Gaslight in Page Street (18 page)

As she walked into the factory on Thursday morning Carrie was thinking about the coming weekend. She and two of her workmates had agreed to join Mary on a big march to Trafalgar Square where they would be addressed by prominent figures involved in the movement. Carrie’s decision to join the marchers had caused some tension at home and her brother James had been forthright in his condemnation. ‘Bloody stupid if yer ask me,’ he had growled. ‘They should lock the lot o’ yer up.’

Charlie had merely grinned and got on with his tea, but the youngest member of the Tanner family was curious. ‘Why are you goin’?’ Danny had enquired. ‘If yer get locked up, they’ll stick a tube down yer froat an’ force-feed yer. Our teacher told us that’s what they do.’

Silence was restored around the meal table by her father, who glared at Danny and threatened to force-feed
him
if he didn’t finish his meal.

The day seemed to drag on and Carrie’s two workmates, Jessica Conway and Freda Lawton, chatted away incessantly about the big day. Carrie was thinking of other things as she sat at the wide bench, sorting and grading the leathers. She had met Sara Knight in the street a few days ago and persuaded her to go along with her to the church club in Dockhead that evening. Carrie had a special reason for going, for that evening the club was putting on a boxing tournament and Billy Sullivan was fighting in one of the bouts. Billy was eighteen and the eldest of the Sullivan boys. He had asked her to come along to see him box. Carrie had grown up with the Sullivan boys and was looking forward to the evening. Of all the brothers Billy was her favourite. When they were children he had always been quick to single her out from her friends and often gave her little gifts as a token of his friendship. Once he had offered her a whole set of cigarette cards, though she had not taken them, knowing how he treasured them. On another occasion he had removed a bandage from his finger, purposely to show her his painful whitlow, and when she screwed her face up he stole a kiss, only to receive a sharp kick on the shin as Carrie wiped her cheek with the back of her hand. They had remained friends, however, and one time Billy had taken her brothers’ part against the boys from Bacon Street Buildings.

‘Mary reckons we’ll be asked ter carry a banner,’ Jessica was saying. ‘I’m gonna feel silly. Will yer carry one if they ask yer, Carrie?’

‘Sorry. What d’yer say?’

The two girls exchanged glances and Freda nudged her friend. ‘Carrie’s got ovver fings on ’er mind,’ she giggled.

‘’Ave yer got a young man then, Carrie?’ Jessica asked.

She blushed and tried to ignore the giggling. ‘It’s just a boxin’ match,’ she answered quickly. ‘Billy Sullivan’s fightin’ an’ ’e asked me ter go an’ see ’im, that’s all.’

Jessica turned to Freda. ‘I know Billy Sullivan. ’E’s nice. Fancy our Carrie goin’ out wiv a boxer.’

She smiled and got on with her work. Billy
was
nice, she thought. He was the oldest of the seven Sullivan boys and had often been involved in scraps to defend his brothers or to defend himself when his younger brothers turned on him. The Sullivans were always fighting, but most people in the street realised that the family were more often than not the victims of their own reputation. Carrie was aware that her youngest brother Danny idolised Billy Sullivan and had been taking boxing lessons from him. Billy had told her that young Danny was a natural and should join the boxing club. Her mother had forbidden it but her father felt it would do the lad good. Danny was forever pestering his mother to let him join and in the meantime continued to take lessons.

At the end of the working day Carrie left the factory and hurried home with excitement building up inside her. Her workmates’ taunts had set her thinking. Billy Sullivan was just one of the lads in the street but he had taken an unusual interest in her lately and she was flattered. All the local girls liked him and she felt it would be nice if she could boast that Billy was her real beau.

As she hurried into the house and helped her mother set the table for tea, Carrie hummed happily, and when the family gathered for the meal she became the object of a certain amount of banter from her brothers.

‘So yer gonna see Billy Sullivan fight, are yer, Carrie?’ James said, looking at Charlie for support.

‘Billy’s gonna win easy,’ Danny butted in.

‘I dunno so much,’ James said through a mouthful of sausage. ‘I ’eard that bloke ’e’s fightin’ is pretty good. ’E’s the East End champion.’

‘That’s nuffink,’ Danny countered. ‘Billy’s the best boxer in Bermondsey.’

‘Shut yer traps an’ get on wiv yer food,’ Nellie grumbled.

James folded a thick slice of bread and dipped it into his gravy. He had grown into a hefty young man since starting work at the sawmills. The heavy work had developed his arms, and his thick neck was set on wide shoulders. His fair hair was full and tended to curl, and his dark blue eyes were deep-set and wide-spaced. James had begun to feel grown-up and tended to ape his father’s mannerisms. Charlie, on the other hand, was a quiet, studious lad who had just started work in an office. He had had to take a certain amount of good-natured teasing about the sort of job he did - his older brother was always reminding him that office work was for cissies. Charlie took it all in good part and rarely lost his temper, to the chagrin of his two brothers and particularly James.

‘One day yer might be comin’ ter see me fight at the club,’ Danny remarked after a while.

‘Oh no she won’t,’ Nellie said firmly. ‘I’m not ’avin’ any o’ my kids growin’ up ter be boxers, so shut up an’ get on wiv yer tea.’

Danny pulled a face and bent his head over his plate. William looked up at Nellie. ‘I dunno, Nell. It’s a good club an’ it teaches the kids ter look after ’emselves,’ he said, pushing his empty plate away from him. ‘Billy Sullivan ain’t turned out such a bad lad. Look ’ow ’e used ter fight in the street. Those Sullivans were always gettin’ inter scrapes. Ole Sadie used ter pack a punch too, although she seems ter be quieter lately. I remember the time when ...’

‘All right, Will, let ’em finish their tea,’ Nellie chided him. ‘I wanna get cleared away early. I’ve got Flo an’ Maisie comin’ roun’ later. We got some fings ter talk about.’

William did not want to ask just what schemes the women were planning and decided it would be better if he departed to the Kings Arms as soon as they turned up.

At seven o’clock Sara Knight arrived and the two girls left for the club at Dockhead. Carrie was pleased to see Sara looking well. She seemed to have put on weight and her long brown hair was well brushed and tied neatly at the nape of her neck with a ribbon. Her eyes were bright, and as they made their way through the drifting fog she giggled happily and took Carrie’s arm, falling into step beside her.

‘I’m startin’ work at the tea factory in Tooley Street next week, Carrie,’ she said. ‘It’s much better than sackmakin’. The girls earn good money there an’ yer get packets o’ tea cheap. Me mum’s ever so pleased. She didn’t like me doin’ that sackmakin’. Yer ’ad ter supply yer own string an’ the money was terrible. Some weeks I only took ’ome ten shillin’s. I’m gettin’ fifteen at this job.’

‘Is yer dad all right?’ Carrie asked.

Sara nodded. ‘’E’s found a real job. It don’t pay very much but it’s better than sellin’ shoelaces an’ collar studs. We don’t ’ave the relief man callin’ on us any more an’ me muvver can put ’er china plates on the dresser now. The lady next door used ter mind ’em fer ’er. If the relief man ’ad seen ’em, ’e’d ’ave made ’er sell ’em.’

‘What’s yer dad doin’, Sara?’

‘’E’s workin’ fer the council on the gate. ’E ’as ter book the carts an’ fings in an’ out. ’E ’as ter do nightwork as well, but Mum don’t mind.’

When the two girls reached the club they saw Sadie Sullivan standing at the entrance with her boys. Eight-year-old Shaun stood between the ten-year-old twins, Patrick and Terry, and Joe, a thick-set eleven year old, was talking to some of his friends. The two older teenage boys, Michael and John, were standing with Billy and all looked serious-faced. Their father Daniel, a docker at the Surrey Docks, stood beside them proudly, looking dignified in his brown suit and knotted red scarf.

When Billy caught sight of Carrie and Sara, he came over. He had grown tall and his powerful shoulders were hunched as he faced the girls. Carrie could see the excitement written on his wide, handsome features, and she gazed at his dark, curly hair and his wide-spaced blue eyes which seemed to sparkle in the evening light.

‘’Ello, glad yer could come,’ he said breezily. ‘I’ve gotta go in an’ get ready. Can I walk yer ’ome afterwards, Carrie?’

‘If yer like,’ she replied, flushing slightly.

Sadie Sullivan walked up to Billy with her youngsters in tow and kissed him on the cheek. ‘Good luck, boy,’ she said heartily. ‘Yer better not lose, d’yer ’ear me?’

Billy winced at the kiss and hurried off into the club, with his family following along into the hall. Carrie and Sara found seats near the front a row behind Billy’s family. It was noisy in the hall, with people milling around and talking in loud voices, and Carrie was enthralled by the air of excitement and anticipation.

Suddenly the lights went out, leaving the boxing-ring illuminated by a large gaslamp set high in the ceiling. The announcer climbed into the ring and welcomed everyone, including the supporters of the visiting team from Stepney. Soon the first two contestants climbed into the ring and the bout commenced. Sara held Carrie’s arm as the two thin, pale lads belted each other around the ring, and when one lad’s nose started to bleed she put her head down on Carrie’s shoulder. The lad went after his opponent with both fists flying.

When the three rounds were over and the referee raised the Bermondsey lad’s hand, a loud cheer went up. Sadie Sullivan had been getting more excited as the bout went on. She stood up at the decision and clapped loudly, only to be pulled down by her embarrassed husband.

‘Wait till my Billy gets in there. ’E’ll show yer,’ she shouted loudly to the Stepney contingent.

‘Shut up, luv, fer Gawd’s sake. Everybody’s lookin’ at yer,’ Daniel growled.

‘Sod ’em,’ Sadie said in a loud voice.

As the bouts progressed, the Stepney club were proving themselves to be worthy opponents. They won two contests in succession and after nine bouts had won a total of four. Sadie had been vociferous throughout and when the last two contestants left the ring, turned to Daniel.

‘When’s my Billy gonna come on?’ she shouted above the din.

‘’E’s on next. It’s the last bout,’ Daniel replied. ‘If ’e loses, the match is a draw. It’ll be five all.’

‘What d’yer mean, if ’e loses?’ Sadie screamed. ‘Billy’s gonna slaughter ’im.’

‘All right, Muvver, keep yer voice down,’ Daniel muttered, his eyes rolling with embarrassment.

During the fights Carrie had been on the edge of her seat with excitement and the sight of blood did nothing to lessen her enthusiasm. Sara, on the other hand, was constantly turning away when the exchange of blows became furious.

‘It’s a wonder they don’t kill each ovver,’ she remarked, averting her eyes again as one lad’s lip started to spurt blood.

‘They don’t really ’urt each ovver, well not much anyway,’ Carrie laughed. ‘Look at the size o’ those gloves.’

Sara was not convinced and gritted her teeth as the blows sounded.

When the last two contestants climbed into the ring, Carrie leapt to her feet trying to catch a glimpse of Billy over the shoulder of Sadie Sullivan who was shouting instructions to her eldest son. ‘Don’t let ’im get inside, Billy,’ she screamed out. ‘Use yer jab.’

‘Shut up, Sadie, they ain’t started yet,’ Daniel groaned, hearing the laughter from the other side of the hall.

‘You can laugh,’ the excited Sadie shouted out. ‘Wait till my Billy clonks ’im. ’E’ll go down like a sack o’ spuds.’

The boxers were being introduced and when Billy’s name was announced the local fans’ cheers rang out. All the Sullivan boys were on their feet as the fight got under way and Carrie stood on tiptoe to get a glimpse of the ring. Sara pulled at her coatsleeve. ‘Is Billy winnin’?’ she asked above the roar.

‘I dunno,’ Carrie replied. ‘I can’t see a fing.’

Suddenly a shout went up and Sadie jumped up and down in anguish. ‘Get up, Billy!’ she screamed.

‘It’s all right, luv, ’e’s only slipped,’ Daniel reassured her.

Carrie was feeling a little apprehensive as she peered through the crush in front of her. Billy’s opponent looked much bigger than him and he was moving around the ring confidently. As the bell went for the end of the first round, Sadie looked as though she had just stepped out of the ring herself. Her face was a bright red and her piled-up hair had slipped down on to her shoulders. ‘’Ow’s ’e doin’, Dan?’ she asked anxiously.

‘I make it about even,’ her husband replied, aware that Billy’s opponent packed a good punch.

Carrie could see blood on Billy’s lip and he looked tired as he slumped down on to the stool.

As the bell went Sadie was on her feet once more and screaming louder than ever. ‘Do ’im, Billy! Knock ’im out, fer Gawd’s sake!’ she cried.

‘Why don’t yer sit down, lady? I can’t see a bloody fing,’ someone shouted.

Sadie did not hear the remark. She was punching the air and leaping up and down, with Daniel holding on to her coatsleeve in an attempt to restrain her.