Gaslight in Page Street (40 page)

At nine o’clock that morning Horace Gallagher walked into the office and peered at William through his thick-lensed spectacles.

‘George and Geoffrey not in yet?’ he queried, easing his long, lean frame into his desk chair.

William shook his head. ‘I expect they’re on business. They’re always in by this time,’ he answered.

Horace was already busying himself with a ledger and the yard foreman got up to leave. He had never liked the accountant very much and was wary of discussing his employer with him. Horace had been with Galloway from the very beginning and handled all the firm’s financial arrangements.

As William made for the door, Horace looked up from his desk. ‘Have you got a minute?’ he asked.

William sat down in the chair again and folded his arms. ‘Yeah. What’s wrong?’

‘Nothing,’ Horace said quickly. ‘I just wanted to ask you something. Have you ever heard of a man called Mitchell? Jake Mitchell?’

William shook his head and Horace leaned forward in his chair. ‘Does the name Gypsy Williams mean anything to you?’ he asked.

‘Wasn’t ’e the one George brought over from Cannin’ Town ter fight at the Eagle a few years ago?’ William remarked, his eyebrows fixing into a frown.

Horace nodded. ‘That’s right. His real name is Jake Mitchell and I understand he’s coming to work here as a carman. I thought you should be warned, although I would ask you not to let on you already know when Galloway tells you,’ he added quickly.

William tried to hide his feelings of disquiet. He had never met Mitchell but Galloway had spoken about him often enough and Sharkey Morris had told him of the night he saw Mitchell almost kill his opponent at the Eagle public house before the fight was stopped. What reason did Galloway have for suddenly employing the man, he wondered, and why should Horace break the habit of a lifetime and confide in him? It seemed very strange to William and he stared at Horace, trying to gauge the man’s reasons.

‘Why should I be warned, Horace?’ he asked with a guarded look.

The accountant glanced at the door anxiously before replying. ‘As you know, Will, I’ve worked for this company for a very long time and I thought I’d seen everything there was to be seen. Lately, however, I’ve started to question some of the things that have happened here. I’ve been ordered to make Sid Bristow’s money up. He’s being put off, did you know?’

William nodded.

‘The man’s worked here for over twenty years, for Christ’s sake!’

William was shocked by Horace’s sudden show of feeling and wondered what else lay behind his outburst.

‘I guessed Bristow was goin’ from what Galloway said last week,’ he remarked. ‘I’m gonna try an’ talk ’im out of it, but I don’t see what I can do. All the old carmen ’ave eivver left or bin sacked. It seems ter suit the ole man but it’s affectin’ the business in one way or anuvver. I can’t understand ’im lately.’

Horace let slip a short, bitter laugh. ‘No, neither can I. Anyway, you asked me why I should warn you about Mitchell. That man is a nasty piece of work and I’m afraid you’re going to have a hard time dealing with him. That’s why I wanted to put you on your guard. I wouldn’t like to see you be forced to leave. Just be careful.’

William nodded. ‘Thanks for the warnin’, ’Orace. An’ don’t worry, I won’t let on I know.’

Horace turned his attention to the ledger and William walked out into the yard, unable to still his troubled thoughts. There was something strange about Horace’s behaviour, he told himself. And what was Galloway’s reason for bringing Mitchell in? There had been no boxing matches at the local pubs since the Eagle’s landlord lost his licence. Some of the publicans must be planning to start up again, he decided. What other reason could there be for Galloway’s move?

William continued to puzzle over the problem while he bandaged a lame horse’s fetlock. Just as he was leading the animal into the small stable, Galloway drove into the yard. Geoffrey was with him and there was another man sitting beside them. Galloway hailed William and waved him over.

‘I want yer ter meet Jake Mitchell, Will,’ he said breezily. ‘Jake’s gonna start work termorrer. Jake, this is Will Tanner, me yard foreman.’

William studied the man as he shook his hand. He was about his own height, he guessed, but at least a couple of stone heavier. His bullet head sat squarely on broad shoulders and his face was flat and fleshy. William could see by the way Mitchell’s nose was twisted that it had been broken several times, and there were white scars over both his eyes. His short coarse hair was greying and spiky, and as his mouth parted in a thin smile he displayed chipped, yellow teeth.

‘I’m puttin’ Jake on the ’ops contract, Will,’ Galloway went on. ‘’E’s done that work before so there’ll be no problems. Oh, an’ when yer got a minute, I wanna see yer in the office.’

William nodded and glanced quickly at Geoffrey. The young man sat motionless in the trap, looking uncomfortable. George seemed perfectly at ease. He joked with Mitchell as they got down from the trap and walked into the office.

As Geoffrey stepped down, William discreetly called him aside. ‘I don’t know ’ow much yer know about Mitchell, Geoff,’ he said quietly, ‘but if yer ask me I’d say yer farvver’s playin’ wiv fire employin’ the likes of ’im.’

Geoffrey shrugged his shoulders. ‘I don’t make the decisions, Will,’ he replied quickly.

‘I fink it’s about time yer started then,’ William said sharply as he walked away.

He had tethered the lame horse outside the small stable. When he walked back over to it, he saw that it was sweating. He led the animal into the stall. It stood quietly as he rubbed it down vigorously with sacking and handfuls of straw until its coat was dry and shining. As William filled the box with chaff, George walked into the stable.

‘’Ow is it?’ he asked, running his hand down the horse’s withers.

‘I’ve rubbed it down an’ it’s eatin’. It’ll be all right in a day or two,’ William told him.

Galloway leaned back against the centre post and eyed his foreman closely. ‘I take it yer know all about Mitchell?’

‘Should I?’ William asked curtly.

‘Jake Mitchell used ter fight fer me on the pub circuit,’ Galloway went on. ‘If yer remember, I brought ’im over this side o’ the water ter fight at the Eagle a few years ago.’

William nodded. ‘I remember, but I’d never met the man. Gypsy Williams ’e was known as then, wasn’t ’e?’

Galloway smiled crookedly. ‘That’s right. ’E’s still good, an’ ’e can beat anybody round ’ere that I know of.’

William wiped his hands on a piece of sacking and looked quizzically at Galloway. ‘What I can’t understand is why yer brought Mitchell ’ere. If yer need an extra carman, why not get Lofty Russell back, or even Darbo? At least they were reliable.’

Galloway stood up straight and slipped his hands into his trouser pockets. ‘Jake Mitchell’s reliable enough, an’ besides, ’e ain’t in as an extra. ’E’ll be takin’ Sid Bristow’s place,’ he said firmly.

William threw down the piece of sacking in disgust. ‘Yer tellin’ me yer actually gone and sacked Bristow ’cos the man’s bin off sick fer a few weeks? Christ Almighty! Bristow’s bin wiv yer almost as long as I ’ave.’

Galloway shrugged his shoulders. ‘Bristow’s gettin’ past it, Will. ’E’s ’avin’ trouble managin’ the work an’ ’e never puts in a full week nowadays. I got a business ter run, not a bloody friendly society.’

‘But yer could give ’im the light van an’ let ’im do the runabouts. That’s the least yer could do,’ William said with passion.

‘Look, it’s no good yer tryin’ ter make me change me mind,’ Galloway replied firmly. ‘Bristow’s goin’ an’ that’s the end of it. Mitchell takes ’is cart over termorrer.’

‘But why Mitchell? Wouldn’t it ’ave bin better ter get one o’ the ovvers back?’ William asked.

Galloway shook his head. ‘The Bermon’sey Bashers are startin’ up again,’ he said, smiling. ‘I should fink that makes it obvious why I want Mitchell.’

The yard foreman nodded his head slowly. ‘So that’s it,’ he said quietly. ‘Well, I ’ope ’e does ’is fair share o’ the work round ’ere, George, an’ I’ll tell yer straight, while I’m the yard foreman ’e’ll take orders from me like the rest of ’em.’

Galloway bit on his lip in irritation. He needed Jake Mitchell to fight for him. He was more than a match for anyone the local publicans could put up, and there was quite a pretty penny to be earned betting on the outcome. God knew, he needed the extra money. Rose was becoming more demanding, and she had expensive tastes.

Galloway’s silent stare angered the yard foreman and his eyes blazed. ‘I mean what I say, George,’ he said forcefully.

Galloway raised his hands in a conciliatory gesture. ‘All right, Will, all right,’ he sighed dismissively. ‘That’s understood. I’ve already told Mitchell. Yer’ll get no trouble from ’im, an’ if yer got any complaints come an’ see me an’ we’ll get it sorted out. That all right?’

William nodded. ‘I still fink yer’ve bin ’ard wiv ole Sid Bristow,’ he remarked, looking Galloway in the eye. ‘Sid was the last o’ yer ole carmen. It don’t seem right ter me.’

George walked to the stable door and then turned to face his foreman. ‘Look, Will, I don’t wanna argue wiv yer. As I said, me mind’s made up. Don’t you worry though, there’ll always be a job ’ere fer you. Why, me an’ you was kids tergevver. I ain’t likely ter ferget that.’

William watched him cross the yard and sighed deeply as he cut the wires on a hay bale. Talk was cheap where Galloway was concerned, he reminded himself. What if he went down sick? Would Galloway still feel the same then? The horse had started sweating again and William felt troubled as he grabbed another handful of sacking.

Carrie was in a thoughtful mood as she left the dining rooms and walked the short distance home. She had gone with Tommy to the Infirmary on two occasions that week and his mother seemed to be rallying. She was now propped up in bed and had recovered enough to have snatches of conversation with her son. The doctor had said she would be able to go home soon, although there had been some permanent damage and she would never fully recover. Tommy had taken the news quietly. He had not said much, but Carrie was aware that he would be hard put to it to hold down his job as well as care for his mother. One or two of her neighbours had offered to go in and see her during the day but as Tommy had said, she was a difficult woman to deal with and her few friends would soon find it too much to stand.

Carrie thought about their long walks together after they left the Infirmary. They had strolled along the riverside in the cool of the evening and watched the seagulls wheeling over the moored barges. She had taken his hand and they had stolen kisses in the shadows of the lofty wharves, but she had felt that Tommy always seemed to be holding back. He had not invited her to his house again, and when he walked her to her front door he kissed her hurriedly as though all the street were watching him. Carrie believed she understood his reasons and it made her angry with the lot fate had dealt him. She understood that he had loved once before and lost, and now he could not bring himself to open his heart to her and love her the way she wanted to be loved. It seemed to her that Tommy was afraid to take things further, although he must realise that theirs could not remain a simple boy and girl friendship. Carrie felt that she was now ready to experience love completely, and he was the one she wanted to give herself to.

Nellie was laying the table when Carrie walked in. She raised her eyes to the ceiling in a secret sign to her daughter and nodded in the direction of the menfolk who were all sitting around talking together.

‘I’m startin’ work there on Monday,’ James was saying. ‘There’s no future in the sawmills an’ it’s about time I ’ad a change.’

‘Well, if that’s what yer wanna do, Jim,’ his father replied. ‘Cabinet-makin’ is a good trade. Yer can learn French polishin’ an’ veneerin’ as well. I wish now I’d gone in that trade. There’s more of a future in furniture than workin’ wiv ’orses. In time, it’ll be all motors on the roads.’

Jim sat back in his chair and hooked his thumbs through his braces. ‘I made me mind up ter get out o’ the mills when ole Benny Taylor lost two fingers in that band-saw the ovver week,’ he said with conviction. ‘Took ’em right off it did. ’E fainted right over the saw, an’ if it wasn’t fer the foreman grabbin’ ’im ’e’d ’ave bin split right down the middle.’

‘Do yer ’ave to, Jim?’ his mother admonished him. ‘We’ll be ’avin’ tea soon. I don’t wanna ’ear fings like that at teatime.’

Jim grinned at his father. ‘Bloody shame about poor ole Benny,’ he went on. ‘’E plays the pianer in the pub. Well, ’e did do. ’E won’t be able ter do that anymore.’

‘I s’pose ’e could always use ’is elbows,’ Danny said to bursts of laughter.

Carrie stifled a laugh as she saw the look on her mother’s face. ‘Jus’ fink, Mum, Jim’ll be able ter make yer a nice bedroom suite soon,’ she joked.

Danny moved round in his chair to face James. ‘D’yer fink I could get a job at the cabinetmakers, Jim?’ he asked. ‘I’m gettin’ fed up wiv servin’ in that shop. Only women should ’ave ter serve in shops.’

Carrie cuffed him lightly around the head. ‘Don’t yer be so cheeky. One day women’ll be doin’ all the jobs men do, jus’ you wait an’ see,’ she told him forcefully.

‘What, drive ’orse-an’-carts an’ be dustmen an’ fings?’ Danny said, laughing.

‘I drove an ’orse-an’-cart once,’ Nellie cut in. ‘It’s surprisin’ what women can do.’