Carrie squeezed his arm playfully as she caught the mischievous look in his large dark eyes. He was certainly a handsome young man, she thought, and very sure of himself too. 'Whereabouts d'yer live?' she asked him, trying to start a conversation.

'St James's Road, near John Bull Arch,' he told her. 'Me an' me ole mum live in one o' those 'ouses facin' the shops.'

'What about yer farvver?' Carrie asked.

Tommy shrugged his shoulders. 'I never knew 'im. 'E left years ago. When we was all little. All me bruvs an' sisters are married, there's jus' me at 'ome. I sort o' look after the ole gel. She's gettin' on a bit now.'

''Ave yer always bin a carman?' Carrie asked.

Tommy smiled. 'I started work in a sausage factory in Dock'ead an' I flitted in an' out o' factory work till I was seventeen. By that time I couldn't take anuvver job in a factory so I got a job on the brewery as a cart boy. That's where I learned ter drive a team of 'orses. I've bin a carman ever since. Well, that's my life story, what about you?'

'I worked in a leavver factory until I got put off, then I got the cafe job,' she replied.

''Ow comes yer got mixed up wiv the suffragettes?' he asked.

'There was a gel who worked at the factory an' she was always goin' on marches an' she was always askin' me ter go wiv 'er. In the end I went on one o' the marches an' it sort o' grew on me. I could see the sense in what the women were campaignin' for an' I wanted ter be a part of it.'

They had reached the tram stop and Tommy leaned against the post. 'I always thought it was those upper-cla.s.s women who done all the protestin' an' gettin' 'emselves chained ter railin's.'

'Those women usually organise the meetin's, but there's loads o' workin'-cla.s.s gels who march,' Carrie informed him.

'You've never chained yerself ter railin's, 'ave yer?' he asked her, smiling broadly.

Carrie shook her head. 'I've bin on meetin's an' marches that got really rough, though.'

Tommy laughed. 'I was at one of 'em, remember?' Then his face became serious. 'Is that right they force-feed suffragettes in prison?' he asked with a frown.

Carrie nodded. 'My mate Mary knew a woman who was force-fed. She said this woman 'ad a steel clamp put in 'er mouth an' then a tube pushed right down inter 'er stomach. All 'er gums were cut, an' when they fed 'er some o' the food went inter 'er lungs. She got pneumonia an' nearly died.'

Tommy looked shocked. 'That's terrible. I reckon women should 'ave the vote anyway. I bet my old mum would vote if she got the chance. She's always goin' on about 'ow unfair fings are fer women. Mind yer, she ain't 'ad much of a life what wiv the ole man p.i.s.sin' off - sorry, runnin' off - an' 'avin' ter look after all of us kids. That's why I didn't get married when I 'ad the chance.'

The tram was slowing to a halt and Carrie had to wait until they were aboard before she could satisfy her curiosity. 'Yer was sayin' yer 'ad the chance ter get married,' she reminded the young man. 'Was she nice?'

Tommy nodded. 'Yeah, she was nice. We was courtin' fer two years an' she wanted ter get married. It was 'ard at the time. Me muvver was ill an' there was no one but me ter look after 'er. Fings jus' got impossible.'

'Did she leave yer?' Carrie asked, forgetting herself as she became intrigued.

'No, not really. She was seein' anuvver bloke while she was goin' wiv me an' I found out. I caught 'em tergevver one night an' there was a big fight. After it was all over she came back ter me pleadin' ter start again, but I couldn't. Fings would 'ave stayed the same, an' it wasn't fair ter 'er. She went back ter the other bloke an' last I 'eard she'd married 'im an' 'ad a kiddie.'

Carrie felt a sudden wave of pity for the young man. 'Yer must 'ave bin very young,' she remarked.

'I was nineteen at the time we broke up. That was ten years ago this November,' he answered.

They lapsed into silence as the tram carried them towards the Elephant and Castle and Carrie could feel the pressure of Tommy's shoulder against hers and sense the faint smell of the toilet water which he had dabbed on his clean-shaven face. She was relaxed now that they had got over their initial awkwardness. Tommy had spoken of his earlier romance and how it had failed without sounding bitter or sorry for himself, she thought. When he answered her questions he didn't seem to be looking for any pity, although he could not quite conceal the sad look in his eyes. Carrie was feeling mixed emotions. Tommy was a good-looking young man and it was sad that he had loved and lost, but he would surely have no trouble where finding lady friends was concerned. Apart from his good looks, he had charm and a sense of humour. Why had he suggested she go out with him for the evening? Carrie began to wonder. Perhaps he wanted to start a new relationship, or then again maybe he was just feeling lonely. She must be careful, she told herself. It would be easy to fall for someone like Tommy. Her lack of experience would go against her if she found herself in a tricky situation with him, and she could quite easily be overwhelmed by his charm and persuasive behaviour. It had been difficult that time with Billy. Rejecting his advances on that one occasion had obviously cooled him as far as she was concerned.

Carrie realised she was clenching her hands into fists as she sat beside Tommy. She was silly to take the blame, she told herself. Billy Sullivan was now making his name as a professional boxer and his sole ambition was to fight for the championship one day. Their brief time together had meant nothing to him except a chance to prove his manhood. With Tommy it might be different. They had met by chance and become attracted to each other. She was determined to let things progress slowly between them, and quietly resolved that she would not be carried away by his attractiveness and his debonair ways.

The tram squealed to a halt at the Elephant junction and they climbed down and crossed into London Road. Crowds were milling around outside the music hall and Carrie felt excited as Tommy took her arm. She had only ever been to the South London Music Hall on one occasion when her parents took her to see a pantomime, and could remember very little about it. As Tommy led her into the main hall Carrie looked about her and saw the well-dressed couples who stood around waiting to go into the stalls and the more soberly dressed people, some with young children, who milled around by the entrance to the gallery. Tommy led her up to a kiosk and bought her a tube of Nestle's chocolates and then they climbed the wide staircase to the circle.

When they were seated comfortably Carrie looked up at the high ceiling and gazed at the sputtering gas-jets around the gilded, blue-painted walls. She could smell peppermint and the strong scent of lavender, and sighed with antic.i.p.ation as the orchestra took their places. Suddenly the conductor raised his baton and loud bra.s.sy music filled the auditorium. Carrie sat enthralled as the show began with a dancing troupe. In the darkness she felt Tommy's hand reach out to hers. She kept her eyes fixed on the stage as the artists followed each other in quick succession, aware of his fingers gently caressing the back of her hand. Red-nosed comics followed the tumblers and jugglers, and when the baritone finished singing and the lights came up for the interval Tommy leaned towards her. 'Would yer like an orange?' he said.

Carrie was fearful of marking her new skirt and shook her head.

He grinned and leaned back in his seat. 'It's bin quite a while since I was 'ere last,' he remarked, looking around at the flickering gas-jets and up at the lofty chandelier.

Carrie glanced quickly at him and saw a faraway look in his eyes. This was where he brought his lady friend, she thought. This was where he sat holding her hand in the darkness and whispering words of love in her ear.

Tommy turned towards her, smiling as he raised his eyes to look at her hair and then glanced at the place where her stand-up collar touched the tip of her ear.

'I must 'ave bin still at school when I was 'ere last,' he said. 'I remember sittin' in the gallery wiv me bruvvers an' sisters. Eight of us there was, as well as me muvver an' this smart bloke who said 'e was our uncle. None of us believed 'im, or if any of us did, we know better now. We 'ad a lot of uncles after me farvver left. I don't blame me muvver. She 'ad a tribe of us ter clothe an' feed. Fings wasn't easy.'

Carrie felt she wanted to hug him. He looked so childlike and yet so handsome, and she sighed inwardly as she watched the glint of wry humour flicker in his dark expressive eyes. She wanted to go on talking with him, but the orchestra was coming back and the lights were dimming. She sat quiet in the dark, and as the show resumed felt Tommy's hand reach out for hers once more.

The orchestra struck up with 'Has Anybody Here Seen Kelly' and the star of the show walked out to the front of the stage. He was tall and lean, and when he started to sing his Irish tenor voice carried out to the far corners of the auditorium. He performed his repertoire of popular tunes and received loud applause and cheers from the enraptured audience. When the Irishman finally held up his hands and smiled graciously the audience knew that this was his own song and there was a hush. The orchestra led him into 'Meet Me Tonight In Dreamland', and the singer's silky voice seemed to float out from the stage and linger timelessly in the darkness of the smoke-filled theatre. When he finally reached the end of the song everyone jumped to their feet applauding wildly and Carrie found herself standing beside Tommy, moved with a strange elation by the poignancy of the singing. It was something to remember, she told herself with a thrill of pleasure. A wonderful ending to the show.

After the two young people had left the theatre they soon found a coffee stall at the Elephant and Castle where they stood eating hot meat pies and sipping sweet, scalding tea. Tommy was amused as Carrie tried to keep the soft filling of the pie away from her clothes and held her mug of tea for her while she struggled to retain her dignity.

The night had stayed mild and the sky was filled with stars as they walked slowly along the New Kent Road. Carrie held on to her escort's arm and they chatted happily about the show. Late trams trundled past and hansom cabs sped by, their large wheels spinning over the cobbled roads as the lean ponies trotted along at a lively pace. Piano music and singing voices drifted out from public houses, and as they reached the Bricklayers Arms a drunk staggered out from a bar and reeled dangerously beside the kerb before recovering himself and stumbling back through the door.

Carrie took a tighter grip on Tommy's arm as he led her into the warren of backstreets. She could feel his body next to hers as they wound their way through the gaslit turnings. Sounds came from the houses - babies crying, voices raised in anger, and badly tuned pianos playing popular songs - and slowly faded away into the ominous nighttime silence that surrounded them. Drunks reeled past and clung to the lampposts, mumbling and cursing. Carrie felt relieved when at last they emerged from the maze of narrow streets into the brightly lit Grange Road. She was feeling tired now and her shoes were pinching. They had been walking for quite some time and when they finally reached Jamaica Road and turned into Page Street it cheered her to hear the familiar sound of a tug whistle on the river. She saw the light burning in her parlour window and turned to Tommy as they reached her front door.

'Thanks fer takin' me ter the show, Tommy. It's bin a lovely evenin',' she said, looking up into his eyes.

He smiled, and without replying bent down and kissed her gently on the cheek. 'I'd like ter take yer out again soon, if yer fancy it,' he said quietly.

Carrie nodded. 'I'd like it very much.'

He stood there while she slipped her hand into the letterbox and withdrew the door key. Then, as he was about to walk away, Carrie quickly stretched up and kissed him on the side of his mouth. Tommy grinned in surprise and stood watching as she hurried into her house, then he turned and walked off, whistling loudly.

On Monday morning George Galloway drove his trap into the yard and strode into the office with a look of irritation on his florid face. 'The b.l.o.o.d.y spring's gone on the trap,' he moaned to Geoffrey. 'Get on ter the coachmaker's right away, can yer? I'll be needing it this afternoon.'

Geoffrey looked up from his desk, reluctant to impart more bad news. 'Symonds is leaving, Father,' he said gently. 'He put in his notice a few minutes ago.'

Galloway sat down at his desk and swivelled the chair around to face his son. 'Did Symonds say why 'e was leavin'?' he asked.

Geoffrey nodded. 'He's got a job with Hatcher. He said it's more money. Oh, and Bristow's wife called in this morning. He's down with bronchitis again.'

Galloway puffed noisily. 'I'll 'ave ter replace Bristow. I can't afford ter keep payin' 'im while 'e's off sick. I'm not runnin' a benevolent society,' he growled.

Geoffrey turned away to use the phone and his father got up and paced the office in agitation. It was bad enough having a broken trap without more problems on top, he groaned to himself. Rose was expecting him to take her for a ride today and he wanted to make a good impression. Her benefactor was out of London on business and he was eager to make the most of his good fortune. Rose had proved to be a very lissom, energetic woman, and she had told him in no uncertain terms that her elderly provider was beginning to flag and she was now looking for a more virile partner. George found her remarks flattering but had no ambition to become sole patron of the woman. She had been set up in a comfortable flat, with a personal allowance to go with it, and he did not intend to make himself responsible for that side of her affairs. Going to visit her during the day while her benefactor was away on business was an ideal arrangement. The old man would not be any the wiser, and nor would Nora.

Geoffrey put down the phone. 'They're sending someone along right away,' he said.

George felt slightly better. He sat down heavily in his chair. 'Did Tanner fix us up wiv casuals?' he asked his son.

Geoffrey nodded. 'We got a couple of decent carmen in but we'll have to get a permanent man to replace Symonds,' he pointed out.

Galloway leaned his elbow on the arm of his chair and stroked his chin thoughtfully. 'I've bin finkin' o' bringin' Jake Mitch.e.l.l in,' he said almost to himself. 'I 'eard 'e's moved over this side o' the water an' 'e shouldn't be 'ard ter get 'old of.'

Geoffrey's face almost paled with sudden alarm. He had never seen Jake Mitch.e.l.l, but he remembered when he was younger how the name had loomed in his mind, dark and threatening like a spectre. The sinister image of the man had been invoked many times around the meal table when he and Frank were children and their father was in one of his talkative moods. Even now the mere mention of his name conjured up endless tales of wild exploits over the years and Geoffrey wondered whether his father really was losing his powers of judgement and common sense. Jake Mitch.e.l.l was a vicious brawler. He had a reputation for getting violently drunk and attacking anyone without reason, and he was known for a.s.saulting policemen. As a young man he had fought in the fairground boxing booths, and he was as strong as an ox. Some years ago he had been sentenced to four years' hard labour after attacking a slightly built man in a public house and almost killing him with his fists. Stories of Jake Mitch.e.l.l's evil doings still abounded, and Geoffrey ran his fingers through his dark hair in perplexity. 'Surely you're not thinking of letting Mitch.e.l.l work here, are you, Father?' he said in disbelief. 'After what you've told Frank and me about him. You said yourself the man's an animal.'

George smiled slyly. ''Ave yer 'eard about the Bermon'sey Bashers?' he asked.

Geoffrey shook his head and his father leaned back in his chair and clasped his hands together in his lap.

'When you an' Frank were still at school, there was a group o' local publicans who banded tergevver an' sponsored fighters. They called 'emselves the Bermon'sey Bashers. They each 'ad their own fighter. I can tell yer there was a lot o' money changed 'ands when those fights took place. Twenty-rounders they was, an' I've seen some o' those fighters 'ammered ter pulp. They used ter 'old the fights in the pubs. It was eivver in the back yards or in one o' the large rooms upstairs.'

'What's that got to do with Mitch.e.l.l?' Geoffrey asked, but the answer was already dawning on him.

'I'm comin' ter that,' George went on. 'The bettin' on those fights got out of 'and. People were layin' their bets on street corners wivout knowin' the form o' the fighters concerned. Word jus' got around that so-an'-so was fightin' a new boy, an' o' course the police got wind of it. They raided the Eagle in Tower Bridge Road one night an' nicked everybody who was there. At least 'alf a dozen publicans lost their licences an' it came to a stop. Well, I've jus' bin told on good authority that it's startin' up again. This time, though, it's gonna be run more tightly. They've even changed their name. Now they're gonna be known as the Bermon'sey Beer Boys. It's got a nice ring to it, don't yer fink?'

'And you're thinking of sponsoring Jake Mitch.e.l.l?' Geoffrey remarked incredulously.

His father grinned. 'Jake's still more than an 'andful fer anybody the Bermon'sey Beer Boys can put up. 'E's still only in 'is mid-thirties. 'E was only twenty-five or -six when I brought 'im over from Cannin' Town ter fight fer me at the Eagle. I won a packet that night. Funny enough, it was only the followin' week that the police raided the place. Fortunately I wasn't there that time.'

'But won't the local publicans cotton on to your scheme, especially if Mitch.e.l.l's already fought in the pubs?' Geoffrey asked.

George shook his head. ''E only fought once an' that was at the Eagle. There's a new publican there now, an' besides, Mitch.e.l.l fought under the name o' Gypsy Williams, an' that was ten years ago.'

Geoffrey flopped back in his chair. 'So you're going to give him a job as a carman and back him in the ring.' He shook his head slowly. 'Supposing he won't agree to fight - that's if and when you do find him?'

Galloway stretched out his legs and clasped his hands, pressing his thumbs together. 'Jake never could turn down a sc.r.a.p an' I'll make it well werf 'is while,' he said with a satisfied grin. ''E can also 'andle a pair of 'orses as good as anybody. All I gotta do is find 'im.'

'Who told you Mitch.e.l.l was living over this side of the water?' Geoffrey asked.

'It was Nora, funny enough,' George told him.

'Nora?'

'That's right,' he replied. 'Nora don't know Jake, o' course, but she does know most o' the people in the turnin', an' that's where she 'eard the story. It turns out that there's a new copper on the beat an' 'e's one o' those who likes ter take 'is coat orf an' sort the trouble out in 'is own way. Well, accordin' ter Nora, this copper come across two jack-the-lads 'angin' around outside a pub an' they was gettin' a bit boisterous. This copper tells 'em ter b.u.g.g.e.r orf an' one ses, "Yer wouldn't say that if it was Mad Mitch standin' 'ere." Anyway, the copper gets a bit shirty an' 'e ses, "Tell this Mad Mitch that I'm keepin' me eye out fer 'im, an' if I come across 'im 'e'll know all about it." A couple of hours later one o' the blokes comes back an' by that time 'e's well tanked-up. As it 'appens 'e b.u.mps inter the same copper. "'Ere, yer was lookin' out fer Mad Mitch, wasn't yer?" 'e ses. "That's right," ses the copper. "Well, I'm 'im," the bloke ses. It turns out they 'ave a right set-to, an' apparently the copper give as good as 'e got. Come ter fink of it, p'raps I ought ter offer the copper a job instead,' George added with a chuckle.

Geoffrey did not see the funny side of his father's att.i.tude and grimaced openly. 'Well, I don't like the idea of it, to be perfectly honest,' he said firmly. 'I can see trouble coming from all of this. What happens if Mitch.e.l.l gets shirty with Will Tanner? Will's the yard foreman and he gives the carmen their orders. He won't take kindly to being undermined by the likes of Jake Mitch.e.l.l.'

'That'll be no problem,' George replied. 'While 'e's in the yard Mitch.e.l.l does 'is share o' the work. I'll make sure 'e understands that right from the start. I want 'im ter save 'is energy fer the ring. Anyway, I've already put the word out fer 'im ter contact me. Now do us a favour an' get on that phone again an' chase that b.l.o.o.d.y coachbuilder up. I've got an important meetin' wiv a prospective customer an' I wanna be on time,' he said, hiding a smile.

Chapter Twenty-two.

Carrie Tanner was finding her working week unbearably long. Each day she waited hopefully for Tommy Allen to make an appearance but he did not call into the dining rooms. Each day she tried to put him put of her mind as she waited on the tables and served endless cups of tea and coffee. One or two of the regular customers who had been there when Tommy asked her out made bawdy comments and laughed when she rounded on them. They joked with her about seeing the young man with a couple of young ladies on his arm. Carrie tried hard not to show that she was concerned but she could not help wondering what had happened to Tommy and why he had not bothered to contact her again.

Fred Bradley had been acting rather strange too, she thought. Normally he would chat to her at every opportunity but all week he had been withdrawn and moody. Carrie felt that he must be feeling unwell. It couldn't be the business, she reasoned. They were doing more trade than ever, and now that the new berth was operating at Bermondsey Wall even more dockers were coming in.

It was Sharkey Morris who helped to shed light on Fred's mysterious behaviour when he called into the dining rooms on Friday morning. There had been the usual amount of banter between the carmen, then one of them said loud enough for Carrie to hear, 'I ain't seen anyfink o' Tommy Allen lately.'

'Nor 'ave I. I reckon 'e's got 'imself locked up,' another said.

'Nah, 'e's frightened ter come in 'ere in case we jib 'im,' a third piped in.

Carrie tried to ignore the chit-chat but found herself getting more and more irritated by their childish comments. Sharkey could see her face becoming darker and he turned to the first carman. 'Who's this Tommy?' he asked.

'Don't yer know 'im?' the carman replied, grinning broadly. 'Tommy Allen's our Carrie's young man, ain't that right, luv?'

Sharkey jerked his eyes towards the back room. 'What's Fred gotta say about that then?' he joked.

'P'raps yer better ask 'im,' the carman said.

''Ere, Fred, yer don't allow Carrie ter walk out wiv scruffy ole carmen, do yer?' Sharkey said, grinning.

Suddenly Fred came out of the back room and leaned over the counter. 'Why don't yer stop yer silly talk?' he said angrily. 'What the gel does in 'er own time is no concern o' mine, an' it shouldn't be none o' yours neivver. Now if yer finished yer grub, why don't yer p.i.s.s orf an' make room fer somebody else?'

The customers were surprised at Fred's sudden outburst and became subdued. Carrie too was surprised at Fred's behaviour and felt a little embarra.s.sed as she got on with serving the tea. When Sharkey Morris finished his meal, he got up and walked over to her on his way out.

'Take no notice o' the lads, luv,' he said quietly. 'They was only 'avin' a bit o' sport. Fred should know 'em by now. If yer ask me I'd say the bloke's jealous, the way 'e carried on.'

Carrie dismissed the idea with a laugh but as she watched Sharkey leave the shop her brow creased in a puzzled frown. Fred had been unusually moody and quiet since that day Tommy asked her out, she thought. Maybe there was something in what Sharkey had said. Fred had been very talkative and he had certainly smartened himself recently. No, it didn't mean anything, she told herself. If he was interested he would have asked her to walk out with him. Fred was a good bit older than her anyway, and he was too set in his ways.

For the rest of the day Carrie busied herself with her ch.o.r.es, glancing up hopefully as customers came into the dining rooms. Later, as she was getting ready to leave, Fred called her into the back room.

'I'm sorry if I frightened yer, shoutin' at those carmen the way I did,' he said quietly. 'I thought they was upsettin' yer.'

'I didn't take any notice, and they didn't mean any 'arm,' she replied, smiling.

Fred nodded. 'Just as long as yer all right. I wouldn't want yer ter get upset an' leave. Business 'as picked up quite a bit since yer've bin workin' 'ere an' I appreciate it. I want yer ter feel free ter come an' talk ter me if anybody does upset yer. I know I'm almost old enough ter be yer farvver, but if ever yer feel the need, don't 'esitate, all right?'

Carrie nodded as she b.u.t.toned up her coat. There was something in the way he spoke that reawakened her earlier misgivings. Perhaps he did want to ask her out but felt he was too old for her, she thought, realising that she would have to be careful not to give him the wrong impression by becoming too familiar with him. It would be difficult though. She had grown fond of him in the short time she had been working at the cafe. Fred was kind and considerate, and she felt comfortable chatting to him. It would upset him if she suddenly shunned him. He was a sensitive man who had always behaved very properly towards her. A girl could do a lot worse than marry a man like Fred, she thought. She would have to think carefully about the way she dealt with the situation. Things were unsure enough between her and Tommy at the moment without any further complications.

Carrie had left the dining rooms and was walking along the narrow turning that led into Bacon Street when suddenly she saw Tommy driving his pair of horses towards her. He waved and pulled up to the kerb, jumping down and hooking a brake chain around the front wheel as she walked up to him. 'I'm sorry I've not bin in ter see yer, Carrie,' he said quickly. 'I've bin off work fer a few days.'

''Ave yer bin ill?' she asked him anxiously.

'No, it's the old lady,' he replied. 'She fell down the stairs last Sunday night.' Carrie winced and drew in her breath sharply. Tommy slowly shook his head. 'I'd jus' gone ter bed when I 'eard the crash. She'd bin at the gin again. I told 'er ter sleep down in the front room but she would insist on goin' up the stairs. I 'ad ter 'ide the bottle before I could get the silly ole mare ter bed, an' as soon as she 'eard my bedroom door go she got up ter look fer it.'

'Is she badly 'urt?' Carrie asked him.

'I dunno yet,' Tommy shrugged, leaning back against the shafts. 'I got the doctor in an' 'e said there was no bones broken, but she started actin' funny the next day. She was ramblin' away an' talkin' a load o' gibberish. I couldn't leave 'er, she'd 'ave set light ter the 'ouse or somefink. Anyway on Wednesday she was no better an' I got the doctor in again. 'E got 'er inter St James's Infirmary. They've got 'er under observation.'

Carrie smiled sympathetically and touched his arm. 'I thought yer didn't want ter see me any more.'

Tommy looked down at his boots for a moment, and when his eyes came up to meet hers Carrie saw how sad they looked. 'I really enjoyed last Sat.u.r.day night,' he said quickly. 'I wanted ter ask yer out durin' the week but I couldn't leave me muvver. Besides, I'm in an' out o' the infirmary now. The ole gel's frettin' in there. She always dreaded goin' in that place an' now she reckons she ain't comin' out. Ter tell yer the trufe, Carrie, it drives me roun' the twist goin' in ter see 'er. They're all ole ladies in 'er ward an' I 'ave ter sit wiv 'er fer a while. Trouble is, yer dunno what ter say 'alf the time, an' she keeps ramblin' on. She asked me ter send the ole man in ter see 'er last night. b.l.o.o.d.y 'ell, 'e's bin gorn fer years.'

'Would yer like me ter come in wiv yer ternight?' she asked him.