'All right, Mrs Axley ...'

'Axford.'

'All right, Mrs Axford, I'll give you the key, but you must promise me you'll give it to Mrs Tanner immediately,' the young man said firmly.

'Cross me 'eart an' 'ope ter die,' Florrie said with mock reverence.

The young man pa.s.sed over the key with a flourish and Florrie smiled at him.

'I fink yer a very nice man after all,' she said graciously, 'an' I shall tell the manager so, soon's I see 'im.'

There was one more little lie to tell, Florrie thought as she walked quickly back to Page Street. The church clock showed five minutes to nine when she walked in the turning and knocked at Nellie's front door once more.

'Sorry ter trouble yer, luv, but the man from the estate office knocked at my door by mistake an' I told 'im I'd pa.s.s the message on,' she said. ''E said ter tell yer not to worry about callin' in the office fer the key, as 'e's gotta go ter the buildin's ter do some inspectin' an' 'e'll leave it wiv the porter. All right, luv?'

'Well, that's a journey saved, Flo,' Nellie replied. 'Got time fer a cuppa?'

Normally Florrie would have accepted but she had visions of women marching up and down Bacon Street with brooms and mops over their shoulders. 'No fanks, Nell,' she said quickly. 'I've gotta get over uncle's right away before 'e 'as a chance ter put that ring o' mine in the winder. The bleedin' pledge was up yesterday, an' yer know what ole Beckford's like. 'Is a.r.s.e is always makin' b.u.t.tons.'

Florrie hurried along the street and turned left at the end. The gloomy building loomed up large and forbidding against the tidy little houses. Her friends were gathered together with folded arms outside the first block.

'Right then, up we go,' Florrie said, leading the way up a long flight of rickety wooden stairs. The walls were shedding plaster and there was a large sooty mark around the bare gas jet. The first narrow landing led along from the head of the stairs to another similar flight. On the second landing Florrie stopped to catch her breath. 'C'mon, gels, one more flight,' she said encouragingly to her friends as they followed, puffing with exertion.

There were four flats on the landing and Florrie went to the door directly at the head of the stairs and inserted the key.

'Good Gawd! Look at the state of it,' Sadie exclaimed as she went inside. 'We're gonna 'ave our work cut out 'ere.'

'It looks like it's bin used as a bleedin' stable,' Aggie remarked.

'It smells like a bleedin' stable,' Maisie cut in.

'Open that b.l.o.o.d.y winder, fer Gawd's sake,' Florrie commanded.

The two bedrooms proved to be even more filthy, and when Florrie looked into the tiny scullery which led directly from the front room, she shook her head sadly.

'I thought our places were bad enough but compared ter this they're bleedin' palaces,' she murmured.

Beneath the scullery window there was a small sink and a copper. Facing the sink was an iron gas-stove which was caked in grease, and beyond the stove a door leading to the toilet.

'D'yer realise yer could sit on the pan an' cook a meal at the same time,' Maggie remarked. 'I reckin it's b.l.o.o.d.y disgustin'.'

'Well, c'mon then, let's get started,' Florrie said bravely, filling a galvanised pail and putting it on the gas-stove to heat up.

The women set to work. Maisie cleaned the windows, Maggie cleared out the hearth and blackleaded the grate, and Sadie started scrubbing the bare floorboards. Florrie rolled up her sleeves and tackled the filthy gas-stove, while Maudie pottered about with a wet cloth around the woodwork.

Ida Bromsgrove realised that her bright idea had given everyone a mammoth task as she got down on her knees and helped Sadie with the scrubbing. 'D'yer remember the time we all went on that outin' an' Nellie brought us all 'ome after ole Soapy Symonds got p.i.s.sed?' she said with a chuckle.

Sadie leant back on her heels and ran her hands across her forehead. 'Do I! Remember those pair o' toffee-nosed ole cows I nearly set about, Ida?' she laughed.

Ida jerked her thumb in the direction of Aggie who was busy with a toilet-brush. 'Remember when we all lifted 'er in the cart an' she was frightened we was gonna drop 'er? What a day that was,' she said, grinning.

Suddenly there was a loud banging on the front door. Maudie looked worried as she hurried over to open it and was confronted by a large, middle-aged man with a walrus moustache.

'What you lot doin' in 'ere?' he demanded.

'We're doin' a bit o' cleanin' fer Nellie,' Maudie said meekly.

'Oh, is that so?' the man said haughtily. 'Well, I'm Mr Pudsey the porter an' I'm in charge o' this 'ere buildin'.'

'Please ter meet yer, Mr Pudsey, I'm sure,' Maudie replied.

The porter hooked his hands through his braces and glared around at the women. 'Yer'll 'ave ter leave,' he said in a loud voice. 'Yer should 'ave come an' seen me before yer decided to stroll into the flat.'

Sadie got up and made for the door with a malevolent look in her eye but Florrie beat her to it.

'I'm Florrie Axford an' I'm in charge o' this lot, so anyfing yer got ter say yer can say ter me,' she told him firmly.

'Yer'll 'ave ter leave is what I'm sayin',' the porter said, eyeing her warily.

'Oh, that's what yer sayin', is it?' Sadie growled over Florrie's shoulder. 'Well, yer can p.i.s.s off orf out of it. We're cleanin' up this pigsty an' that's that.'

The porter knew all about the Sullivans and he stepped back a pace. 'I've got me job ter do, missus,' he said in a less commanding voice.

'Yeah? An' we've got our job ter do, so why don't yer leave us ter get on wiv it?' Sadie berated him.

Florrie had often found herself acting as the leader not least because of her guile and cunning, and on this particular Friday morning she was not found lacking. 'All right, Sadie, jus' get on wiv yer scrubbin',' she said quietly. 'Me an' the buildin's manager are goin' ter 'ave a little chat.'

Albert Pudsey had been called a few names in his time by the tenants of Bacon Street Buildings but never a 'manager'. He brushed his hand across his bushy moustache as Florrie slipped out on to the landing and pulled the door half closed behind her.

'I've often seen yer pa.s.s me winder an' I never knew yer was the manager o' these buildin's, Mr Pudsey,' she remarked. 'I was only sayin' ter Mrs Dougall the ovver day, "Maisie," I ses, "who's that big fella walkin' up the street?" An' Maisie ses ter me, "Yer know, Flo, I fink 'e's a copper, one o' them plainclothes coppers." 'Ave yer ever bin in the police, Mr Pudsey?'

The porter shook his head. 'Nah. I used ter be on the roads, before I got this job,' he said, throwing out his chest.

'A commercial traveller?'

'Nah, I used ter dig 'em up,' he told her.

'What, the roads?' she asked innocently.

The porter was not sure whether the woman was making fun of him or whether she was just tuppence short of a shilling. He backed away. 'Look, I've got me rounds ter do,' he said. 'Don't ferget ter make sure that door's shut when yer leave.'

Florrie gave him a big smile. 'All right, Mr Pudsey. Jus' leave it ter Auntie Flo. Oh, by the way, the manager at the office said you'd 'ave ter see Mrs Tanner in, so I'd better drop the key through yer letterbox. She should be 'ere about five o'clock.'

Later that morning the porter watched the band of weary women marching away and shook his head slowly. 'It's gettin' b.l.o.o.d.y worse round 'ere,' he muttered.

The following Monday morning Carrie arrived at Fred Bradley's and took her place behind the counter. All day the usual comings and goings went on, and as she served the teas and coffees, took the food orders and tidied the tables, Carrie's mind was racing. She had decided what she was going to do now and there could be no turning back. It was a decision born of desperation but her inner feelings told her that it was the right one, the only one. She would have to be bold and straightforward. There must be no misunderstanding.

She felt a churning in her stomach as she walked resolutely into the back kitchen after Bessie Chandler had left, and sat down at the freshly scrubbed table.

Fred was hanging up the pots and pans and looked at her in surprise. 'I expected yer ter be makin' b.u.t.tons ter get away, Carrie,' he said, smiling. 'Yer look as though yer don't fancy the prospect o' goin' 'ome ter Bacon Street Buildin's.'

Carrie stared down at her fingernails and took a very deep breath. 'There's somefing I wanna ask yer, Fred,' she said, her eyes coming up to meet his.

He sat down facing her, concern on his face. 'Yer not gonna ask me ter let yer leave, are yer?' he said quickly.

She looked down at her hands and then fixed him with her eyes again. 'Yer told me some time ago that yer wanted ter marry me. D'yer still feel the same way?' she asked quietly.

Fred dropped his gaze momentarily. 'There's no need ter ask, Carrie,' he replied. 'I could never change the way I feel about yer.'

'Well then, I will marry yer, Fred,' she said, her voice quavering.

He stood up, his eyes open wide and his mouth hanging open. 'Christ! I don't know what ter say,' he gasped, holding his hands out to her.

Carrie stood up and walked around the table and the next instant she was in his arms. She closed her eyes tightly as he kissed her cheek.

She had spent the whole day thinking about her decision and was convinced she was doing the right thing. For a long time now Fred had been more than just an employer. He had become a very good friend. She was almost twenty-seven and at that age most of the girls she knew were already married with children. She had no one special in her life since Tommy, and her mother was always asking her when she was going to find a steady lad. Carrie was aware that it would be difficult to find another man as good as Fred. The dining rooms could soon be improved, and with a little thought and a lot of hard work there was no reason why she should not be able to earn enough money to take care of her parents. She had vowed not to let them spend the rest of their lives in that rotting tenement block. Fred was stroking her back tenderly as she nestled in his arms and she said a silent prayer.

'Yer've made me very 'appy,' he said, releasing her and looking into her blue eyes. 'I jus' can't believe it!'

Carrie took his hands in hers. 'I've bin doin' a lot o' finkin' an' I realised I couldn't keep yer waitin' too long,' she said. 'I like yer very much, Fred, an' I can learn ter love yer, I know I can.'

'I'll make a good 'usband an' I'll take care o' yer, Carrie,' he said with feeling. 'One day yer'll know that yer love me. We both will. Now what about a nice cup o' tea ter celebrate?'

She laughed warmly. 'Yer a lovely man, Fred Bradley,' she said.

Chapter Thirty-eight.

One evening early in February Charlie Tanner walked into block A of Bacon Street Buildings and slowly climbed the stairs. The crumbling, insanitary tenement was not unfamiliar to the young veteran. He had played in and out of the blocks when he was a lad and many times had felt the boot of an angry porter on his backside. The place looked smaller now, and even more dilapidated. The walls had become more cracked, the gas-jet had lost its mantle and gla.s.s shade, and paint was peeling from the front doors.

Charlie was completely out of breath by the time he reached the third floor and knocked on the door of number 9. When Carrie threw her arms around him, he grinned sheepishly. 'So this is where we're livin' now, is it?'

She took him by the arm. 'Look who's 'ere, Ma,' she called out.

Nellie came hurrying out from the scullery, her face flushed with the heat. She embraced Charlie, smiling, and stood back, still holding on to his arms.

'Yer've lost weight, son,' she said, looking him up and down. 'Sit yerself down by the fire an' I'll get yer a nice cuppa. Dinner won't be long.'

'Where's Dad?' he asked.

''E's gone off ter work,' Nellie told him, and saw his puzzled look. 'Yer farvver's workin' as a night.w.a.tchman fer the borough council. It's only fer the time bein'. There's nothing else about at this time o' year, he lined up fer hours at the labour exchange. 'E'll get somefink better soon, I 'ope. Trouble is, 'is age. 'E's sixty next birthday.'

Nellie went back into the scullery and Carrie sat down in the chair facing her brother. 'Are yer prop'ly better, Charlie?' she asked.

He nodded. 'Just a bit breathless at times, but the doctor tells me it'll pa.s.s.'

'Tell yer bruvver the good news, Carrie,' her mother called out.

'I'm gettin' married in April,' she said, smiling.

'Who's the lucky man?' Charlie asked with a look of surprise.

'It's Fred Bradley.'

''E's a bit older than you. Yer not worried?' he asked her.

'Fred's a good man. I'm gonna be 'appy wiv 'im, Charlie,' she said, pulling her legs up under her.

'Well, that's all that counts, Sis,' he said, smiling.

Carrie gazed at him as he looked slowly around the room. He had lost weight and his face had grown thinner. He looked much older, she thought.

'This isn't a bit like our old 'ouse, is it?' he remarked.

'Florrie Axford an' some o' the women cleaned it all out fer us,' Carrie told him. 'Mum was really surprised. It was very nice of 'em, wasn't it? The people round 'ere 'ave bin really good. Yer remember Sharkey an' Soapy who used ter work at the yard? Well, they borrowed a cart ter move us. They got the bedroom furniture out frew the upstairs winder an' Soapy smashed one o' the panes o' gla.s.s. Mum was a bit worried but 'e said if Galloway ses anyfink about it, tell 'im the removal men done it an' 'e'll 'ave ter claim orf o' them.'

Nellie came into the room carrying a large pot and started to serve up the mutton stew. 'I've bin keepin' this 'ot. I 'ad ter do it earlier 'cos o' yer farvver,' she said, holding her head back from the steam. When he had wiped his plate clean with a piece of bread, Charlie leant back in his chair and rubbed his stomach. 'I've bin missin' yer cookin', Ma,' he grinned. 'It's a lot better than the muck we got in France.'

Nellie smiled at him and then her eyes strayed over to the shrouded photograph of James on the wall and the photos lining the mantelshelf. 'I wonder 'ow young Danny is?' she said anxiously. 'It's bin a long time since we've 'eard from 'im.'

''E'll be all right. The war won't last much longer,' Charlie replied encouragingly. 'I should fink Danny'll be in a rest camp by now. 'E's done 'is time in the line.'

The two women started to clear the table while Charlie made himself comfortable by the fire. He had been thinking about telling his family that he had spent a few days with Josephine in Ramsgate after leaving the hospital but had decided against it. Now that his father had lost his job and the family had had to leave the old house, they would naturally be bitter towards the Galloways. It made Charlie sad to think about his father and how he must feel ending up as a night.w.a.tchman. He was skilful and experienced with horses, but men like him were a dying breed now. In a few years' time the roads would be full of lorries.

Charlie could hear the clatter of crockery coming from the scullery and the women's voices chattering, and he thought about Carrie's forthcoming marriage to Fred Bradley. She had often talked about him and said what a decent man he was, but she had also said he was a bit set in his ways and old-fashioned. What had made her suddenly agree to marry him? he wondered. Maybe she wanted to put herself in a position where she would be able to take care of their parents. It was just the sort of thing Carrie would do. Well, Fred Bradley had better take good care of her, he told himself, or he would have her two brothers to answer to.

Nellie and Carrie joined Charlie around the fire and began chatting about everything that had been happening. They talked of the fire at the yard and the body that was found in the ashes, and Nellie spoke about the trial of Sammy Jackson which had taken place the previous week.

'Accordin' ter what yer farvver 'eard, the police didn't fink Sammy Jackson would go ter trial,' she explained. 'They reckoned 'e'd be unfit ter plead but the doctor who examined 'im said 'e was sane as the next man. It was in all the papers. It seemed strange reading about yer own street an' people yer know. Anyway 'e got sentenced ter death. Apparently there's an appeal but yer farvver reckons 'e'll 'ang. Mus' be terrible standin' there an' seein' the judge put on that black cap.'

'P'raps Sammy Jackson played it straight instead of actin' mad,' Charlie said. 'Maybe 'e knew the alternative was ter spend the rest of 'is life in a lunatic asylum.'

Nellie nodded. 'Well, the papers said it was a deliberate attempt ter kill Jack Oxford. We all thought it was 'im in that fire. I'll never ferget the look on yer dad's face when 'e come back an' told us Jack was alive an' well. 'E always 'ad a soft spot fer ole Jack. Mind yer, 'e's doin' well now, by all accounts. I was talkin' wiv 'is lan'lady an' she said Jack's got a cushy job at the tannery. 'E's smartened 'imself up too. 'E wears a nice suit an' 'e goes out wiv 'er ter the pub an' the music 'alls. I reckon the next fing we'll 'ear is that 'er an' Jack's got spliced.'

'Galloway done Jack a favour givin' 'im the sack, but 'e didn't do Dad any favours, did 'e?' Carrie said bitterly. 'After savin' all 'is 'orses too.'

'Yer can bet yer life 'e blamed yer farvver fer the fire. The way Galloway sees it yer farvver should 'ave made sure n.o.body could get in the yard,' Nellie remarked.

'I was terrified when I see Dad pullin' them 'orses out,' Carrie recalled with a shudder.

'So was I when I see yer strugglin' wiv that geldin'. I thought the pair of yer was gonna get trampled under its 'ooves,' Nellie said, shaking her head.