Authors: Jean Fullerton

Tags: #Romance, #Historical, #Fiction

A Glimpse at Happiness (37 page)

BOOK: A Glimpse at Happiness

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Josie shifted on his lap. ‘Why don’t you go to the police?’

‘A man sorts out his own problems and doesn’t go bleating to the nabbers,’ he said, running his finger over her cheek lightly. ‘Don’t you worry, sweetheart, I’ll see it right.’

He reached up and managed this time to capture her lips. He kissed her deeply, hoping that would be the end of the matter. With Josie sitting on his lap he could think of a number of things he’d rather do than talk about the Tugmans. She melted into him for a few moments but then pushed him away again.

‘I know you think you can sort it out, Patrick, but now we have a chance at happiness I can’t bear to think of it ruined by you ending up at the end of someone’s knife - or worse.’ She looked him squarely in the eye. ‘Think, my love. You send them packing and they sink someone’s boat. Ma’s thrown out of Mattie’s wedding and more boats are damaged. You all join together and they smash up the Town, kill Brian - God bless his soul - and then try to sabotage the
Mermaid
. Charlie attacks me and you all but kill him.’ She grasped his face in her hands. ‘I know it’s hard to admit, but the police are the
only ones
who can put a stop to Ma’s gang for good, otherwise there’ll be more widows and orphans queuing up for parish relief. And don’t try to tell me that Ma isn’t biding her time until she can pay you back for Charlie,’ she said, with just the hint of a tremor in her voice.

Patrick enfolded her in his arms. ‘There, nothing’s going to happen to me,’ he told her. ‘And I won’t let anyone harm you again, I promise.’

She struggled against his embrace and sat up. ‘For goodness’ sake, I’m not afraid for myself. It’s
you
! I don’t want to lose
you.
’ A twisted smile played over her lips. ‘Don’t you understand, you great lummox? I love you and want to spend my life with you. My whole life - for years and years - not just until the next fight when Harry catches you out one night.’

A tear swelled up over her lashes and Patrick hugged her to him. This time she snuggled down with her head on his shoulder.

She was right of course. From the moment the pipe had connected with Charlie’s head there was no going back. He didn’t fear for himself. If anything happened to him his family would look after the children, but Josie would be alone and then what would become of her? She wouldn’t be able to go back to her family and society would shun her without him. Josie would be destitute.

He looked over to her bonnet hanging on the back of the chair. He had fished it out from the bottom of the
Mermaid’s
hold where it had tumbled on that fateful night. The shape of the brim was intact but the ribbons were ripped off. Coal dust had sifted itself in between the woven straw. Josie had dampened it and dried it several times in an effort to remove the black specks but its brightness had gone. Even the fresh ribbons couldn’t restore it to its former pristine condition and, unfortunately, the world Josie had turned her back on would regard her in much the same way as her bonnet - beyond rescue.

But would he wish her anywhere else? he asked himself silently, enjoying her head resting on his collarbone and her hand slipped around his body. In truth, with the joy of loving her each night he couldn’t - and he thought she had the right of it: if the docks were ever to be free of the Tugmans it would need more than street law to remove them.

Chapter Twenty-Two

Josie pushed open Mattie’s door and called out a hello before making her way down to the kitchen at the back of the house. As she’d expected, Mattie was there with her mother Sarah preparing the midday meal. Queenie Maguire sat in a rocking chair in the corner of the room.

‘You’re looking well,’ Josie said as she gave Mattie a kiss on the cheek.

Mattie smoothed her hand over her swollen stomach. ‘I feel fine. I still can’t . . .’ she bit her bottom lip and gave Josie a bright smile. ‘I’ll be glad when the young ’un’s out in a few months and not doing a jig in my belly all night.’ She glanced at Brian’s mother rocking back and forth. ‘He’ll soon be here, won’t he, Mother?’

Mrs Maguire gave a vague smile but didn’t answer. Josie nodded at her and then turned back to her friend. ‘Is she any better?’

‘Well, she’s talking now - sometimes,’ Mattie replied, putting the pot back on the stove. ‘But she’s still wandering about at night.’

Mattie put her hand onto the small of her back and her mother waved her to a chair. ‘Sit down and fold those clothes while I peg the sheets on the line,’ she said, picking up the basket full of damp linen, and smiled across at Josie. ‘It’s good to see you,’ she said, as she went out the back, leaving Josie and Mattie to talk.

‘You’ll be needing these in a week or two,’ Josie said, and handed Mattie the baby clothes she’d been sewing.

‘Oh, they’re beautiful,’ Mattie said, holding them up and inspecting them. She gave Josie a crafty look. ‘You might need some of these yourself soon.’

Josie cheeks grew warmer. She should have had her monthly visit by now, but with all the upset of the past few weeks she was out of rhythm - or that was what she kept telling herself. ‘Not this month,’ she said.

‘I suppose you’re relieved,’ Mattie said. ‘I mean with your mam and pa being away and all.’

Josie sighed. ‘Patrick has this strange idea that they would look more kindly on us if I wasn’t with child.’

Mattie tutted. ‘Men do have some odd thoughts, so they do.’ Josie bit her lower lip. ‘I tell you, Mattie, I’m a bit worried that I haven’t heard back from Mam. What if she’s taken a turn for the worse?’

‘I’m sure she’s fine and dandy. You told me that she and Dr Munroe had been out and about and even went to see the military band,’ Mattie said, reassuringly.

‘I know, but that was a month back. What if the fever’s returned?’

‘Josie, I think you’re just getting yourself all het up over nothing. You father wouldn’t have taken her if he didn’t think she was fit enough to make the journey safely.’

Josie’s heart sank. It was just what she’d been telling herself for the past three weeks, and it left only one explanation for her mother’s silence.

‘I know Mam would have been as mad as a captured elf when she read that Patrick was still married but I hoped she might have been a bit more understanding. Especially as Bobby’s birth certificate is a year older than her and my stepfather’s marriage lines.’ Josie shrugged. ‘But as she hasn’t written back I’m starting to think I was wrong. Perhaps, after all the scandal she and Pa went through before, and what with her recent illness, she just can’t bear any more heartache. If that is the case, I can’t see it matters if I’m in the family way or not.’

‘Maybe Mrs Munroe has your mam’s reply.’

‘It’s possible, but Bobby sent Sam around with a letter from Aunt Mary. If Mam had written a letter back, I’m sure she would have sent that too.’

‘Well, I must say, I have to hand it to your sister. She’s got some pluck, smuggling out your clothes like that.’

‘That she has,’ Josie replied.

‘I hear Patrick wasn’t very pleased though,’ Mattie said.

‘It wasn’t the clothes that riled him; it was the fact that I sold them. Oh, he didn’t say anything but he got his what-have-I-done-to-you look in his eyes again,’ Josie said. The image of her family sitting in the parlour loomed up in Josie’s mind and sadness washed over her. ‘I won’t lie to you Mattie, it has been so very hard to think that my parents have turned their backs on me and I’ll never see my lovely sisters and brothers ever again . . . But I would still rather be with Patrick, even as we are now, than not at all.’

‘Pat feels responsible, and you know he’s as stubborn as a mule.’

A satisfied glow spread across Josie’s face. ‘I know, and I love him for it. But I do wish he wasn’t quite so obstinate about the Tugmans.’

Mattie was shocked. ‘You don’t mean he
should
ferry their gear upstream?’

‘No,’ she laughed. ‘I mean about going to the police and helping
them
put the Tugmans where they belong - on the gallows. My stepfather worked with the police to put an end to Danny Donovan so why can’t Patrick do the same with the Tugmans?’

Mattie looked doubtful. ‘I don’t know about the police, Josie. Our men like to right their own wrongs, you know that.’

‘But at what price?’

Mattie shrugged, then looked down at the baby clothes again. ‘You’re so good with the needle. My wedding dress wouldn’t have . . .’ She stopped, and let her hands fall on her lap. One large tear dropped onto the tiny white-work garment.

‘Oh, Josie, I miss him so much! It’s as if he’s taken my heart to the grave with him,’ she said, her bottom lip trembling as she spoke.

Josie pulled her chair next to Mattie’s and gathered her friend into her arms. Mattie buried her face in her shoulder and sobbed.

‘I lie there each night with his empty place beside me and I wonder how I’m going to get through another day without his cheery whistle as he harnesses the horses or puts on his boots sitting by the fire.’ She lifted her head from Josie’s shoulder. ‘How can something that hurts so much not kill you?’

Josie kissed Mattie’s tear-stained cheek. ‘I don’t know and I don’t want to find out, which is why I urged Patrick to forget about how scores are usually settled and go to the police.’

Mattie wiped her eyes with the back of her hand.

‘Maybe you’re right,’ she said. ‘I couldn’t bear to see Pat end up like Brian. Oh, Josie, everyone tells me I’m young and I’ll find someone else one day. I know they mean well but there can be no one else for me now. Not after Brian.’

‘I know,’ whispered Josie. And she did. Many a night she’d start awake with a vivid image of Patrick rather than Brian lying in a coffin. She would calm her frantic heart by putting her hand on his chest and feeling his steady breathing and, as the daylight filtered in, she would study every feature of his sleeping face.

As the first few lights appeared in the windows, Patrick flipped his collar up to his ears and pulled his cap down over his face. Keeping to the shadows he quickly opened the yard gate and slipped into the narrow alley at the back of the houses. A dog barked a couple of streets away but then fell silent. Without looking either side of him and with his shoulder scraping the brick wall he headed towards the new police station in Arbour Square.

He had spent three days chewing over Josie’s words and, although it went strongly against the grain, he knew she was right. Still he had to be careful. Ma didn’t just have eyes and ears in the streets, she had them amongst the local police, too.

It was for that reason that he now skulked around in the shadows praying to God that he could get into the station to see Superintendent Jackson before anyone knew what he was doing.

The gaslighter was already setting the lamps ablaze when he passed a couple of drunks stumbling about in Commercial Road. Skirting around them, he continued on towards Turner Street. The old Wapping Police office was nearer but Arbour Square was now H-division headquarters and also where Superintendent Jackson worked.

Dangerous was not even half the word to describe the risk of crossing Ma Tugman in normal circumstances, but with her precious Charlie still paralysed from the blow he’d inflicted, reckless might be a more accurate description of his present plan.

Picking up his pace, he soon reached the front of the new, stone-clad police station then, with a quick look left and right, he slipped through the double doors. The front office had a wooden screen from floor to ceiling with a couple of notices pasted on poster boards. Overall, it resembled a small shop - even down to the polished counter behind which sat a sleepy-looking constable writing up the evening ledger.

With a swift glance around to make sure no one was lurking around who might recognise him and high-tail it back to the Tugmans, Patrick whipped off his cap and went to the desk.

‘I’d like to speak to Superintendent Jackson,’ he said, turning his face as far to the wall as he could.

The sandy-haired officer, who was probably around Patrick’s age, stared at him from under a straight, fair brow.

‘What about?’

‘I have information,’ Patrick replied, in a firm voice.

BOOK: A Glimpse at Happiness

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