Gaslight in Page Street (61 page)

The group looked taken aback and one or two were already backing away. The young official turned to the chief dignitary. ‘Sir?’

‘Well, I, er, - I think we should let the doctor get the men away quickly, as he suggests. What do you say, Parish?’

‘Jolly good idea,’ his aide said in a relieved voice.

As the party hurriedly left the concourse, the station master turned to the young doctor, smiling broadly. ‘I’ll make sure your part of the station is cleared of civilians,’ he told him. ‘We don’t want them exposed to any risk, do we, doctor? Besides, it’ll help you get the men away quicker. Good luck.’

The young doctor turned to the staff officer for his nod of approval but the elderly colonel was already hurrying away.

At twelve noon the Red Cross train steamed into the terminus and the platform was suddenly crowded with casualties, hobbling on crutches or being carried on stretchers. Several with bandages over their eyes were forming a line and slowly being led away. Nurses in Red Cross uniform and white-coated doctors moved amongst the men, and slowly order began to be imposed upon the confusion. Tea was handed out by volunteers and some of the helpless casualties dictated letters that were hastily scribbled down by helpers. Some of the soldiers were laughing and joking, but others looked blank-faced and shocked. Some were mumbling to themselves, ignorant of the noise around them as they suffered in their own solitary nightmare. One stretchered casualty lifted his head and looked around anxiously as he was carried from the station. Suddenly he grinned and tried to raise himself on his elbows as a young nurse hurried towards him. Josephine smiled with relief as she bent over the soldier and kissed him, then she took his hand in hers and walked beside the stretcher to the waiting ambulance.

Early in December Inspector Stanley and his assistant called at Galloway’s yard.

‘We’ve picked up Sammy Jackson,’ he said, easing his bulk into a chair. ‘We found him sleeping rough under the arches.’

‘Did ’e admit ter startin’ the fire?’ George Galloway asked.

The Inspector shook his head slowly. ‘He admitted to starting the fire, but I don’t think there’s much chance of him going to the gallows. He was ranting and raving when I interviewed him. He was going on about doing the work of the Lord. Unless I’m very much mistaken Sammy Jackson will spend the rest of his life in a loony bin. By the way, the sergeant has managed to track down the victim’s next of kin,’ he added, nodding to his assistant to take up the story.

‘Bernard Dewsbury’s sister is the only surviving relative,’ the sergeant began. ‘They weren’t very close. Apparently he was lodging with her until he was thrown out of the teaching profession for abusing one of the children. For a while he worked as a labourer on the roads and moved about the country quite a bit. He returned to London last year but his sister refused to take him back. Until his death, Dewsbury was sleeping under the arches in Druid Street.’

‘Pity ’e didn’t stay there instead o’ takin’ notice o’ that idiot Oxford,’ George remarked.

‘I don’t suppose he’ll be missed much,’ Frank Galloway commented.

The Inspector shrugged his shoulders. ‘From what we could gather from the headmaster of the school, Dewsbury got on well with the rest of the staff and was a very good teacher until he suddenly started going downhill. It seems he got involved with some religious group, according to his sister, and from then on started acting strangely. Anyway, the matter will have to rest there for the time being. I expect Jackson’s trial will take place early in the new year and the whole sorry mess will get a good airing. By the way, Mr Galloway, we’ll need to hold on to the watch-and-chain until the trial’s over. I don’t see any reason why you shouldn’t have it back afterwards,’ he concluded.

The sergeant left immediately afterwards and the Inspector stood at the gate chatting with George Galloway. Presently he gave the yard’s owner a quizzical look.

‘I understand you’ve got a good man in Jake Mitchell?’ he queried, smiling as he saw the surprised expression on George’s face. ‘It’s all right, Don McBain’s a friend of mine. I was just wondering what Mitchell’s prospects were against Don’s latest boy? From what he tells me this young fighter’s been doing well up in the north-east.’

Galloway smiled slyly. ‘If I was a bettin’ man, I’d put me money on Jake Mitchell,’ he told him. ‘From what I’ve ’eard, McBain’s lad is a rough ’andful but ’e’s got a glass jaw. I don’t fink ’e’ll trouble my man.’

The Inspector took out a large, white five-pound note from his wallet and handed it to Galloway. ‘Put that on your man for me, will you?’ he said with a wink. ‘I’ll call round after the fight.’

Nora Flynn leaned back in her comfortable armchair and closed her eyes. The newspaper she had been reading lay on the floor beside her and her glasses rested in her lap. The accounts of the battles raging in France had made depressing reading and she tried to think of happier things as she let the heat of the fire permeate her aching body. She had been very busy that day going through the house, turning out drawers and clearing out the odd corners. She had polished the silver, scrubbed the kitchen and stairs, changed the front room curtains and generally tried to brighten up the drab, miserable house. When she was finished Nora had felt no better for all the hard work. There was no one to praise her efforts or remark on how nice the place looked except Josephine, and she was hardly ever at home these days.

It saddened Nora that George spent so little time in her company, preferring to go to his room after the evening meal and sit alone with his thoughts, and the inevitable bottle of whisky. For months now he had almost ignored her, treating her merely as a paid housekeeper and forgoing the intimate chats they had once had together. It seemed ages since he had shared her bed, and Nora was beginning to face the hard truth that George Galloway had used her the way he used everyone. She had been available to him when he needed a woman, and that was the beginning and ending of it. She had been silly and foolish to expect more. She was a middle-aged widow, plain and staid, with little physical allure to ignite a man’s passion. Why had she allowed herself to be used? she wondered almost desperately. Did she really want to build a new life for herself before it was too late, or was it just loneliness?

A light tap on the door made Nora start. She sat up in her chair as Josephine looked in. ‘Come in, luv, I was jus’ takin’ a well-earned rest,’ she said stretching.

Josephine sat down in the chair facing her and spread her hands towards the fire. ‘I saw Charlie Tanner at the station today, Nora,’ she said, smiling. ‘He was on the first train.’

‘Is ’e badly ’urt?’ the housekeeper asked anxiously.

‘It’s a chest wound but he’s all right. He’s been taken to Woolwich. I’ll be able to visit him soon.’

‘Have you told your father yet?’ Nora asked, her eyes searching the young woman’s face.

Josephine shook her head. ‘I know I’ve got to tell him, Nora, but I keep putting it off. I made up my mind that I’d do it tonight but I’m frightened of what he might say.’

‘Look, Josie, yer goin’ on fer twenty-one,’ Nora said firmly. ‘Yer’ve a right ter pick a young man an’ go courtin’, the same as anybody else. Yer farvver’s got the right ter know when yer find that young man, so tell ’im, but let ’im see that yer know what yer doin’. ’E’ll be pleased for yer, I’m sure.’

‘Do you really think so?’ Josephine asked, concern showing in her deep blue eyes.

Nora smiled at her. ‘Go an’ see ’im now,’ she urged. ‘Get it over wiv, an’ don’t ferget what I said. Let ’im see that yer know what yer doin’.’

Josephine stood up and walked to the door. ‘Wish me luck,’ she smiled, holding up her crossed fingers as she left the room.

Chapter Thirty-six

As soon as the Tanners returned home from the Woolwich Military Hospital, William rounded angrily on his wife.

‘I fink yer should ’ave at least waited till the boy was on ’is feet before sayin’ what yer did,’ he shouted.

‘I’m sorry if it upset ’im but ’e’s got ter know ’ow I feel about it,’ Nellie shouted back. ‘Nuffing good’s gonna come out of ’im an’ that gel o’ Galloway’s gettin’ tergevver. Christ! There’s plenty of ovver gels round ’ere wivout ’im gettin’ mixed up wiv ’er.’

‘Look, Nellie, we’ve got no right to interfere,’ William countered. ‘Charlie’s entitled ter make ’is own choice. From what ’e was sayin’, yer could see ’e finks a lot of ’er.’

‘I don’t care,’ Nellie said, tears welling up in her eyes. ‘I don’t want a son o’ mine marryin’ inter the Galloway family. George Galloway’s a bad man an’ ’e’s put ’is mark on ’is children. That bad streak runs in ’em an’ I won’t ’ave Charlie marryin’ inter that lot.’

‘But that’s silly talk,’ William retorted. ‘Yer condemnin’ the gel wivout knowin’ ’er. S’posin’ Galloway told ’is daughter ter keep away from our Charlie? Yer’d be up in arms then, wouldn’t yer?’

‘No, I wouldn’t. ’E’d be doin’ Charlie a favour,’ Nellie said, her voice breaking with emotion.

Carrie had been listening quietly and felt moved to say something. ‘She seems a nice enough gel, Mum.’

Nellie turned on her daughter. ‘That’s right, side wiv yer farvver,’ she complained angrily. ‘Yer ’ardly know the gel, anyway. I’m tellin’ yer, she’s a Galloway, an’ that’s enough fer me. It’s bad enough yer farvver ’as to work fer the man wivout Charlie marryin’ inter the family.’

William shook his head slowly as he slumped down in his chair. ‘I reckon yer upsettin’ yerself fer nuffink,’ he said in exasperation. ‘The lad said ’e likes ’er an’ they’ll be walkin’ out tergevver when ’e gets ’ome. ’E ain’t said anyfing about gettin’ married. Besides, why all the sudden fuss about me workin’ fer Galloway? It’s honest work an’ I bring in regular wages. That’s more than can be said fer a lot o’ poor bastards round ’ere.’

‘Yer know I’ve never bin ’appy wiv yer workin’ fer ’im,’ Nellie replied quickly. ‘I’ve seen yer slave fer ’im fer years, workin’ nights an’ weekends wiv those sick ’orses. An’ what’s yer fanks bin? Sod all, that’s what. Yer said yerself George Galloway’s got no feelin’ fer ’is workers. Jus’ ’cos you an’ ’im ran the streets tergevver once don’t mean yer can expect any favours. When it suits him yer’ll be put off, an’ when that day comes we’ll all be out on the street.’

William looked appealingly at his daughter as Nellie hurried from the room. ‘What’s got inter yer muvver ter make ’er carry on like that?’ he wondered aloud.

Carrie sighed and stared down into the fire. ‘I s’pose it was the shock o’ seein’ Charlie lyin’ there. ’E did look queer, didn’t ’e?’ she said quietly.

‘I dunno what ter fink,’ William sighed. ‘It’s not like yer muvver ter get upset the way she did. She knows we can’t do anyfink if Charlie an’ that Galloway gel get tergevver. It’s up ter them what they do. I’m jus’ wonderin’ ’ow George Galloway’s gonna react when ’e finds out, if ’e don’t know already.’

Charlie Tanner’s hopes of being home for Christmas had been dashed when his wound became infected. While he was lying in a haze of pain, he received a visit from Josephine. Now, as he sat propped up in bed against a mound of pillows, he could recall her sitting beside him, holding her cool hand to his forehead. A nurse was putting the finishing touches to a gaily decorated Christmas tree that stood in the centre of the ward and the young soldier watched idly, occasionally lifting his eyes to the high window and watching the dancing snowflakes as they fell against the frosty panes. It was Christmas Eve. Charlie felt warm and comfortable now that the pain had left him and looked forward to seeing Josephine once more. He let his tired eyelids shut out the activity around him, and as he hovered between sleeping and waking he was aware of light footsteps and the scent of lavender as soft lips brushed his forehead. Josephine sat down beside him, and he held her hand in his as she asked him how he was feeling and poured him a drink from the bedside container. She seemed cheerful, he thought, but her striking eyes looked sad, almost melancholic, and he was moved to ask her, ‘Is there anyfing wrong, Josie?’

She shook her head but her eyes gave her away. He pressed her soft hand. ‘Yer would tell me if there was somefink wrong, wouldn’t yer?’ he entreated her.

Josephine stared down at the clean white counterpane for a few moments. When she looked up and met his gaze, he knew he had been right.

‘It’s my father,’ she said in a low voice. ‘I told him about us and he’s forbidden me to see you.’

Charlie looked deep into her troubled eyes. ‘Why, Josie?’ he asked.

‘He said I’m too young to be thinking of courting and he wants me to go to college as soon as the war’s over,’ she replied.

‘Was that all?’ he asked. ‘Did yer farvver not mention me?’

‘That was all he said,’ Josephine told him.

Charles shook his head. ‘Josie, I’m not a child. I can imagine the rest of it. ’E said yer should marry somebody wiv prospects, somebody who ’ad money an’ was able ter provide fer yer. Am I right?’

She nodded, her eyes avoiding his.

‘Would yer be surprised if I told yer me own family don’t like the idea neivver?’ he asked her. ‘I told ’em about us last time they came in ter see me. Farvver was all right, but me muvver was shocked, ter say the least. I couldn’t understand ’er attitude.’

‘I didn’t realise how much dislike there was between the two families,’ she sighed. ‘Why should there be, Charlie? What’s happened between them?’