Gaslight in Page Street (68 page)

He swallowed his drink and walked back into the lounge to refill his glass.

The young nurse looked up in surprise. ‘I thought you were asleep,’ she said demurely as he made for the drinks cabinet. ‘I don’t wish to interfere, Mr Galloway, but it’s rather dangerous to mix sleeping pills and spirits.’

Frank smiled at her. ‘It’s all right, I didn’t take the pill. Those things are inclined to make me sluggish next day.’

The nurse went back to her magazine and Frank eyed her as he filled his glass. She wasn’t a bad-looker, he thought. Rather plump on the hips, but her eyes were a nice shade of blue behind those ugly spectacles. Maybe she was a tigress beneath that professional demeanour, stringing along several young men and dominating them. Or maybe she preferred the older man. Someone like himself who was worldly and discreet. Well if he tried his luck Bella couldn’t blame him. She gave him little enough of her time these days or nights.

‘Could I offer you a drink?’ he asked.

The young lady shook her head vigorously. ‘I never touch strong drink when I’m on duty,’ she replied. ‘The agency would be horrified.’

‘But they’d never know,’ Frank said slyly.

‘No, thank you, Mr Galloway.’

Frank nodded and walked back into the bedroom. I’m sure Bella hand-picked that one, he thought.

Silly fool, the nurse was thinking in the other room. Anyone who allowed his wife to have an affair right under his nose deserved all he got, and he wasn’t getting anything from her. It was so obvious that something was going on between the other two, she thought. Surely he could see it? Perhaps he was condoning it. She had heard about those strange people who got their enjoyment by listening to their promiscuous partner’s graphic accounts of their experiences. The nurse shook her head and went back to her magazine.

At ten minutes after midnight Frank heard the motor cab draw up outside and quickly went to the window. Bella seems to be taking a long time getting out, he thought as he peered through the curtains. Ah, there she is now, and there’s Hubert. My God, he’s kissing her on the lips! Frank screwed up his fists with rage as he saw the effeminate young man waving to Bella from the cab as it drew away. Hubert was going to have trouble with his lips very soon, and the rest of his face, Frank promised himself as he lay down in bed and pretended to be fast asleep.

Carrie and Fred returned from Margate on Sunday evening, and early on Monday morning the café opened its doors once more to the usual clientele of dockers and carmen. Bessie was as garrulous as ever as she helped in the kitchen but Fred did not seem to mind this morning. Carrie served the tea and coffee as usual and took food orders, telling herself that the first alteration would be to get a large printed menu put up behind the counter instead of that silly little sheet of paper that was pinned to the wall. The whole place could do with a coat of paint as well, and the end storeroom wall could be knocked down to make room for a few more tables, she thought. She would have to talk to Fred about the lease too. He had told her some time ago that it was running out and it would be a good idea to try to purchase the freehold.

There was no time to dwell on the changes needed as the café began to fill up with hurrying workers who tempered their impatience with bawdy humour.

‘Find out what Fred’s doin’ wiv my bacon sandwich, will yer, Carrie?’ one of them asked her. ‘I’ve bin waitin’ ten minutes. I s’pose ’e’s ’avin’ a doze back there, tryin’ ter catch up on all that sleep ’e’s bin missin’.’

‘Come out an’ show yerself, Fred,’ a carman called to him. ‘Let’s see if Carrie’s put a twinkle in yer eye.’

The teasing went on throughout the morning, and Fred smiled in embarrassment as he worked in the kitchen while Carrie laughed and joked with the men. There was no sense in taking offence, she thought. They were honest, hardworking men just having a bit of fun. They meant no harm, and if she was going to help her husband build up the business she could not afford to be too prim and proper.

The first day back at work seemed to pass very quickly but Carrie was grateful when she finally slipped the bolts and pulled down the blinds. She felt then that she really was in her own little place with her husband at last. Fred had already decorated the dingy flat above the shop and had turned the cluttered-up store-room into a cosy sitting-room. The upper room at the front looked out on a good view of the river in both directions and Fred had converted it into a bedroom, installing a large double bed and a satin walnut bedroom-suite. The downstairs room at the back of the shop was kept as a parlour, and that evening after tidying up the shop and wiping off the tables Fred and Carrie sat down together there, sipping their tea and unwinding. Fred had an evening paper spread out over his lap, and as Carrie glanced at him over her cup she noticed how that lock of dark, greying hair was hanging over his forehead again. It made him look younger than his years, she thought. He was staring down at the newspaper and as he read she noticed how he occasionally moved his lips, as though concentrating over a particular word or sentence. He had told her he was not a good scholar and that reading did not come easy, but Carrie knew that he ran his business very well and was certainly no fool.

As she gazed at him she thought about the honeymoon and their first night together. He had been touchingly shy and seemed to caress her body as though handling a delicate piece of china. He had not fulfilled her on their first night but she had been happy to lie close to him and let him feel how responsive she was to his nervous caresses. It was on the second night that their marriage was consummated and she had felt a warm glow inside her as she finally fell asleep in his arms. It would be a good, loving marriage, she thought. Fred had a wonderful nature. He was kind, considerate and loving, and his easy laugh made her feel happy and contented.

A knock on the side door made him look up quickly. ‘I wonder who that can be?’ he said as he got up from his chair, frowning.

When Fred showed the young woman into the room, Carrie jumped out of her chair excitedly. ‘Sara!’ she gasped, holding out her arms.

The two women hugged each other warmly and then Sara looked at Fred with a smile on her face. ‘We were ole school friends,’ she said, and turned towards Carrie. ‘I ’ope ’e’s takin’ good care of yer,’ she joked.

The two young women chatted happily together while Fred was brewing fresh tea. ‘I got yer letter when me an’ Norman got back from Scotland,’ Sara said. ‘I was so sorry ter miss yer weddin’, but never mind, I’m ’ere at last.’

Carrie looked closely at Sara, hardly believing it was the same girl. Her face was rosy and plump, and she was smartly dressed. Her dark hair had been cut short to her neck and neatly waved, and her fawn dress and silver-buckled shoes looked expensive. Carrie recalled how her friend used to come to school in a ragged coat, a tattered dress and worn-out shoes.

‘’Ow’s yer family?’ she asked.

‘All married,’ Sara laughed. ‘The two boys are in the army an’ me youngest sister married a grocer. They’ve got a nice ’ouse in Bromley an’ mum an’ dad live wiv ’em.’

‘Yer look like yer done well fer yerself,’ Carrie said with a smile.

Sara grinned. ‘My Norman’s a partner in an estate agent’s. We’re very ’appy, I’m glad ter say.’

‘Any children?’ Carrie asked.

Sara’s face became serious for a moment. ‘I can’t ’ave any,’ she said quietly.

Fred brought in the tea and then discreetly left the two young women to chat alone with each other.

‘Fred seems a nice man. I’m sure yer’ll be very ’appy,’ Sara said, smiling.

‘Did yer know me dad lost ’is job?’ Carrie asked her.

Sara nodded and her face became serious. ‘Yeah, I bumped inter Jessica a few weeks ago an’ she told me,’ she said. ‘It must ’ave bin terrible comin’ on top of everyfing else. When I ’eard yer’d moved inter Bacon Street Buildin’s I could ’ave cried. Of all the bloody places! It’s about time they pulled those ’ovels down.’ She made a face, and then looked intently at her friend. ‘Carrie, about the future? Are you an’ Fred plannin’ on stayin’ ’ere?’ she asked.

Carrie gave her friend a quizzical look. ‘Yeah, of course.’

Sara crossed her legs and straightened her skirt. ‘The reason I asked is,’ she went on, ‘my Norman’s firm does a lot o’ business wiv the firm that actually manages this ground fer the owners. Norman’s got a few acquaintances in the ovver firm, naturally, an’ one of ’em told ’im they’ve bin ordered ter put the land up fer sale. Apparently the owners are raisin’ money fer a big deal. It’s all very complicated but I think yer ought ter know that George Galloway ’as put in an offer fer all the available land. ’E wants it fer a new yard.’

Carrie’s face hardened at the mention of Galloway and she clenched her fists on her lap in anger. ‘Yer mean we wouldn’t be able ter renew the lease?’ she muttered.

Sara shook her head. ‘What would ’appen is, the Galloway firm would take vacant possession an’ then ’e’d pull this place down an’ the next two old ’ouses which are empty anyway. ’E’d get the engineerin’ yard as well. The engineers are not renewin’ their lease. Norman told me they’ve gone skint.’

Fred had come back into the room. He sat down with a worried look on his face. ‘The lease is due this month,’ he said. ‘I didn’t think there’d be any problem in renewin’ it.’

‘It’s a pity yer didn’t buy the free’old,’ Sara remarked.

‘I’ve tried before, but it was never on the market,’ Fred told her. ‘I never knew it was goin’ up fer sale now.’

‘Well, it’s only bin made official this mornin’ but Galloway must ’ave bin given the nod ’cos ’is bid came in terday,’ Sara replied, glancing at Carrie. ‘I wouldn’t ’ave known anyfink about it, ’cos Norman don’t usually talk ter me about ’is work, but I’d showed ’im yer letter, yer see, an’ when ’e saw the address ’e mentioned about the land goin’ up fer sale. Norman was surprised ’ow quickly Galloway’s bid come in. I s’pose the ole goat’s bin buyin’ drinks ’ere an’ there ter get the information.’

‘Can ’e do that, pull the places down fer a transport yard?’ Fred queried.

‘As a matter o’ fact I asked my Norman the same question an’ ’e said the borough council is ’appy for firms ter build up their business,’ Sara replied. ‘It’s all down ter more rates, I s’pose. In any case, money speaks all languages. Galloway’s prob’ly put a few bob in somebody’s pocket.’

Fred slumped back in his chair, feeling suddenly sick. ‘This Galloway geezer’s startin’ ter mess fings up already,’ he groaned.

‘Well, ’e ain’t gonna mess fings up any bloody more,’ Carrie said quickly, her face flushed with anger. ‘George Galloway kicked me farvver out an’ ’e’s not gonna do it ter us, if I can ’elp it. Can we afford ter buy the place, Fred?’

Sara held her hand up before he could answer. ‘Look, I’ve already ’ad a long chat wiv Norman,’ she said. ‘I told ’im about us bein’ ole friends, an’ about the way yer farvver’s bin treated by Galloway an’ ’ow ’e chucked yer out o’ the ’ouse. By the time I was finished Norman was on your side, an’ ’e told me that if I wanted ter be of any ’elp I should call round ter see yer as soon as yer got back from yer ’oneymoon. I knew from your letter yer’d be back terday. I never ferget a kindness, Carrie, an’ I’ll always remember ’ow kind yer was ter me when we were at school tergevver. I also remember that time yer mum an’ ole Florrie Axford looked after my mum when she was poorly, so don’t you worry. If yer can see yer way clear ter buyin’ the free’old, pop roun’ ter our place termorrer. Norman said it shouldn’t be too ’ard persuadin’ the ovver people ter ’old on ter Galloway’s bid, an’ ’e’ll leave a few details wiv me ternight about what yer should do. If yer get in quick, yer’ll beat the ’oreson at ’is own game,’ she said, grinning.

The teacups were replenished and the three sat chatting together for some considerable time. When Sara finally took her leave, Carrie hugged her at the front door. ‘Fanks fer comin’, Sara, an’ fanks fer everyfing,’ she said affectionately.

‘There’s nuffink ter fank me for, yet,’ Sara replied. ‘You an’ Fred talk it over, an’ if yer can manage ter find the money come roun’ an’ see me termorrer. Norman’ll be able ter sort it all out fer yer, or else ’e’ll ’ave me ter deal wiv.’

Nora Flynn sat by the window of her upstairs flat in Rotherhithe and stared out at the early May sky. The sun had dipped down beyond the chimney-stacks and the evening shades of red were now fading and changing to a darker hue. She sighed sadly as she recalled that fateful Thursday morning just over a month ago. Josephine had slipped into the house after her father had left and when she opened the letter from Charlie her face had lit up. ‘He has asked me to marry him, Nora!’ she said excitedly. ‘Fancy that, proposal by letter. Don’t you think that’s romantic?’

Nora recalled how she had tried to forewarn Josephine by telling her that she needed to talk to her father before she made up her mind to say yes to her young man, but Josephine had placed her hands on her hips in indignation and jutted out her chin assertively. ‘I can’t talk to him. I never could,’ she had said loudly. ‘I’m going to marry Charlie and that’s the end of it, Nora. I’ll tell Father tonight and if he tries to stop me marrying, I’ll leave this house and never come back.’

Her words had been prophetic. In the growing darkness of her room, Nora brushed away a tear. She could still hear that terrible, heart-rending cry as Josephine dashed from the house on that Thursday evening; still see her running out of Tyburn Square, sobbing and distraught. It was the last week Nora spent in the house. Early on Monday she packed her battered old suitcase and left. She did not see George Galloway that morning, nor did she want to. The curt note she left on the kitchen table had to suffice. She had left that gloomy house forever, and at last she would be able to sleep easy and enjoy the few good memories of her years in Tyburn Square.