'Well, I'd 'ave waited till the ole git went ter sleep, I'm afraid,' Maisie persisted.

Across the street Ida Bromsgrove peered through her lace curtains. I wonder who those two are gossiping about? she thought. I wish I had time to stand at the street door ga.s.sing all day. She clicked her tongue and went out into the scullery to see how the currant dumplings were doing.

Chapter Forty-one.

Frank Galloway stood in the office doorway and watched as his father walked slowly along Page Street, leaning heavily on his silver-topped walking stick. The June morning was bright with early sunlight as the hulking figure trudged towards the yard. Frank had noticed how downcast the old man had become during the past few months. His hair was completely grey now and his heavy shoulders sagged. Gone were the jaunty step and upright stance he had once had. He looked older than his sixty-one years although he had lost none of his scowling arrogance. Frank felt he had become even less approachable. He had seen how the carmen kept out of the old man's way as much as possible, and Jim Baines the mechanic seemed to have adopted a surly att.i.tude after a few clashes with the firm's owner over the state of the vehicles. Jake Mitch.e.l.l appeared to be the only employee who was not affected by his employer's black moods and he went about his work with the usual indifference.

Despite feeling a little sorry for his father, Frank despised him for bringing so much upon himself. He had hounded Josephine out of the house with his obstinacy and hard-heartedness and now he was suffering under the terrible burden of guilt over her tragic accident. The inquest had given the verdict as accidental death due to drowning, but they both knew that Josephine was heart-broken when she left the house for the last time and must have been in a terrible state when she took that trip. It was so unlike his sister to drink more than one gla.s.s of port or sherry, but on that occasion she had been seen severely intoxicated. She would never have fallen overboard had she been sober. The shameful burden of guilt had aged his father and now he lived alone in that sombre house in Tyburn Square. An elderly woman had taken Nora's place as housekeeper. She came each morning to clean and prepare his evening meal, and would leave as soon as the table was cleared. Frank knew that his father was missing Nora's company, although he would not admit it. She had been much more than a good servant; she had brought a little sunshine into the house.

George Galloway walked into the yard and glared at the mechanic who was bent over the raised bonnet of the big Leyland lorry. 'Is that gonna be fixed terday?' he called out.

Jim Baines straightened up and turned to face him, a large spanner in his greasy hand. 'It's the cylinder gasket. It'll be ready by ternight,' he answered offhandedly.

George entered the office and slumped down at his desk. 'That's the second time this week we've 'ad a lorry off the road,' he growled. 'They're a sight less reliable than the 'orses. It's the b.l.o.o.d.y cylinder gasket now.'

Frank ignored his father's ill temper and nodded towards the roll of papers on his desk. 'I've got some new sites for you to look at,' he said resignedly. 'There's one here that looks pretty good.'

George got up and leaned over his son's shoulder. 'Is this the Abbey Street site?' he asked.

Frank nodded. 'It's a ninety-nine-year leasehold and it's bigger than that riverside site we went for,' he replied.

The mention of the riverside property brought Josephine sadly to mind and a change came over George's florid face. He had been poring over the plans that evening when the policemen called. Frank had put in the bid for him but he had neglected his affairs for weeks and done nothing further. By the time he returned to the matter of the crucial corner property, the working men's cafe had already been sold.

'Right then, you make enquiries. I'll leave it up ter you,' George said with a resigned sigh as he slumped down into his leather chair.

Frank glanced quickly at his father before rolling up the plans. His att.i.tude was very different from what it had been in the past, he thought. The old man seemed a pathetic shadow of his former self as he stared down at the papers on his desk. All his enthusiasm and drive had deserted him, and he seemed to have no sense of purpose any more. He had not even asked after Bella or Caroline lately, not that the apparent lack of concern for his family troubled Frank unduly. After his recent matrimonial differences with his wife he did not feel inclined even to mention her name. She had taken him for a complete fool. Nevertheless, the memory of the confrontation he had with her and Hubert brought a wicked smile to Frank's lips.

It had been hard to contain himself and pretend he was still ignorant of what was going on after what he had witnessed from his bedroom window that night, but Frank had restrained himself until the following evening when Hubert called to take Bella to a charity ball. The young man had looked crestfallen when he saw that the Scotch was missing from its usual place on the sideboard and shuffled his feet uneasily as he faced the man he had made a cuckold.

'I'm afraid there's none there,' he called out over his shoulder when Bella told him to help himself.

Frank smiled evilly. 'You've been helping yourself to my wife for the past year. You can hardly expect me to keep you in Scotch as well, Hubert, now can you?' he said without warning.

'I say, now look here old boy,' Hubert said quickly, his face reddening painfully.

'I'm not your old boy, you spotty-looking little rat,' Frank snarled, reaching forward and taking hold of the white scarf draped around Hubert's narrow shoulders.

'Bella!' the young man shouted in panic as Frank glared at him vengefully.

She hurried from the bedroom, a large powder puff in her hand, and gasped: 'Frank, what are you doing? Put Hubert down this minute! Do you hear me?'

Hubert's face was turning blue as he tried to release Frank's grip on his silk scarf. Frank hit him hard with the back of his hand and sent him sprawling across the room. Bella screamed loudly and jumped on to her irate husband's back, pulling his hair.

'You brutal pig!' she raved. 'Look what you've done to Hubert's face!'

The young man staggered to his feet and dabbed at his b.l.o.o.d.y lips with the scarf. 'He's quite mad! He should be locked up,' he moaned as he backed towards the door.

Frank had managed to dislodge Bella from his back. He gripped her by the shoulders and shook her violently. 'You're not going anywhere tonight, do you hear?' he shouted at her. He turned to face Hubert. 'Get out of here,' he snarled, 'before I change that face permanently!'

Frank realised that he was clenching his fists and snarling to himself as he recalled the confrontation, and sagged back in his chair. His face relaxed and he smiled to himself. He had forced himself on Bella that night and had been surprised at her lack of resistance. In fact, she had seemed to become rather responsive after an initial show of temper. At least she would know better than to bring any other young gad-about-town back to the flat in future. As for waiting on her hand and foot, well, that was a thing of the past.

When Hubert beat a hasty retreat and Bella collapsed sobbing loudly on to the divan, only to be dragged unceremoniously to her feet and thrown into the bedroom, Frank did not know that the demure young nurse from the agency had been listening at the door of Caroline's room. As the house became quiet again the nurse smiled to herself and tiptoed over to the crib. Maybe she had been a little premature in her a.s.sessment of the man, she thought. He had certainly ended that little affair, and the mistress of the house appeared to be in for a hard time this evening. Masterful men were so exciting, she thought to herself, taking off her gla.s.ses and touching her hot cheek.

The summer of 1918 was one of heavy fighting in France and Belgium, and the newspapers were full of casualty lists and battle maps. A full German offensive was met with stubborn resistance, and foreign place names were on everyone's lips. Marne, Amiens, Picardy and Arras were theatres of bitter fighting, and in early August the German offensive was broken. At home people were hopeful of a speedy end to the war, and in Page Street life went on as usual. Lorries rumbled continually down the little turning. Florrie Axford shook her head sadly as she stood with folded arms at her street door. Aggie Temple cleaned her doorstep every other morning now but Maisie Dougall decided that it wasn't worth the effort. 'What's the good, Aggie?' she tried to convince her. 'Soon as it's clean the poxy lorries splash mud all over it. Give us those 'orse-an'-carts any day. The noise o' them there lorries is a b.l.o.o.d.y disgrace.'

Maggie Jones was above all the nagging and moaning. Her son had been decorated by the King on his visit to France and she walked proudly to the market with her head in the air. Sadie Sullivan went to the Catholic church in Dockhead every morning and said a prayer in remembrance of John and Michael, and a prayer for Joe's safety, and a special prayer for Billy that he might, 'get orf 'is backside an' find 'imself some bleedin' work'.

Maisie Dougall was not disposed to church-going but she also said a prayer every night by the side of her bed. Her surviving son Albert was recovering from frostbite in a field hospital.

In nearby Bacon Street Nellie Tanner worried over her youngest son Danny, although she felt relieved that Charlie was not at the front. She worried too over William, who seemed to be more morose and withdrawn than ever. His job at the council depot meant that he was still working nights and weekends, and he had become a pale shadow of himself. Only Carrie was able to make him laugh with her accounts of the customers who frequently called in at the cafe and Nellie knew how much her husband looked forward to her regular visits. She had to admit that her daughter seemed happy and contented; she had never seen her looking so radiant. Married life seemed to suit her and Nellie was impatiently waiting for news of a baby, but had refrained from broaching the subject with Carrie. She tried to discuss it with William, however, but he sighed irritably as he sat listening to her.

'She should be finkin' o' startin' a family before it's too late. After all, 'er Fred ain't exactly a young man, is 'e?' Nellie remarked. 'If they leave it too long the fella's gonna be too old ter play wiv the child. Besides, it don't do ter 'ave yer first one when yer turned firty. Fings can go wrong. Look at that woman in Page Street who 'ad that imbecile child. She 'ad ter push it everywhere in the pram till it was seven. Then she 'ad ter get it put in one o' them children's 'omes, poor little bleeder.'

'Christ! What yer goin' on about, Nell?' William sighed. 'That woman was nearly forty, an' she wasn't all that bright 'erself. She used ter 'ave fits, an' look at 'er ole man. 'E wasn't all there neivver. Carrie's doin' all right fer 'erself, an' if she wants ter wait a year or two, good luck ter the gel.'

Nellie was not to be put off. 'P'raps they can't 'ave any kids,' she suggested anxiously. 'Sometimes men o' Fred's age can't manage it, 'specially if they marry late in life. Ida was tellin' me only the ovver mornin' about 'er cousin Gerry. Forty-five 'e was whe 'e got married, an' ...'

'Will yer give it a rest, woman?' William growled, rounding on her. 'I'm ten years older than you an' we 'ad no trouble makin' babies, an' they all turned out all right. Let the gel be, fer Gawd's sake.'

Nellie watched sullenly as her husband took down his coat from the back of the door and strode heavily out of the room. She sighed regretfully. Life had changed drastically for her since William had lost his job at the stables. Making herself look nice for him was not the joy it had once been. It was only very rarely that Will showed feelings of love for her now, and it wasn't anywhere near as pleasurable as it used to be. He seemed to have lost interest in everything these days, Nellie rued, and that old goat Galloway was to blame. Once he had almost destroyed her family life; now he was totally to blame for the miserable existence she and her husband had been reduced to. Well, at least Carrie had managed to get one up on him, she told herself, and with that small consolation Nellie set about washing up the breakfast things in the dingy tenement flat.

Throughout the long, hot summer the Bradleys' cafe in Cotton Lane was always full of carmen and river men. Carrie had insisted that the dining rooms should be smartened up, and after the premises closed each evening the renovation work began. For two whole weeks Carrie and Fred spent long evenings sc.r.a.ping at the grimy paintwork and rubbing down the wooden benches. Each night they went to bed exhausted but happy with the progress they were making, and slowly the results of their labours began to show. The ceiling was given two coats of whitewash, and varnish was applied to the benches. All the woodwork was painted pale blue and behind the counter a large menu was displayed, something of which Carrie was very proud. She had painstakingly painted the sign in black paint on a large whitewashed board and Fred had nailed it up above the tea urn. At the back of the cafe a new seating area was set out in what had once been the store-room and a few of the managers from local firms started to use this for their morning coffee. The outside of the cafe had been repainted too and above the large windows Fred had painted the word 'Bradley's' in large gold letters. Carrie had decided early on that there should be a greater variety of food, and soon kippers and bloaters were added to the menu. All the hard work had eventually paid off, and Bessie soon found less and less time to chat about her friend Elsie Dobson as the cafe filled every morning.

The busy days hurried by, and as autumn approached the general feeling was that an end to the long war could not be far off. There had been a new offensive against the Kaiser's army and the newspapers were full of the battles at Meuse-Argonne, Flanders and Cambrai, where British, American, French and Belgian troops were advancing. Carrie was becoming more fearful for Danny who was back in action and experienced a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach every time she thumbed through the ever-increasing casualty lists.

During that summer and autumn Carrie gradually became accustomed to life as a married woman. Most nights Fred was exhausted and too tired to give her the attention she desired, and on the rare occasions when he did manage to love her it was soon over, leaving Carrie with little sense of fulfillment. Her disappointment was tempered by her husband's kindness and concern for her. She loved to feel his arm around her shoulders as they shut the shop each evening, and the brief kisses he stole in quiet moments during the day. Carrie knew that her sudden decision to become Fred's wife had been influenced in no small degree by what had happened to her family, but she had carefully considered everything and was determined to make the union a happy one, come what may.

Joe Maitland sat facing his landlady with a serious look on his handsome face.

'Look, Florrie, I know what yer sayin', but it's not as easy as all that,' he said. 'Fer a start, I can't just expect the Yard blokes ter believe me wivout givin' 'em the proof they need. Don't ferget I've done time as well. Ter them I'm a lag. They wouldn't believe me in front of one o' their own, 'im bein' an inspector an' all.'

Florrie leaned back in her chair and toyed with an empty teacup, pursing her thin lips. 'Well, what the bleedin' 'ell are yer gonna do?' she said finally. 'Yer could be goin' on like this ferever, an' yer need ter remember what'll 'appen if somebody finds out what yer really doin' at those fights. After all, anybody could walk in there from over the water who reco'nises yer, an' then it's goodbye Joe.'

The lodger allowed himself a brief smile. 'I've jus' got ter be patient fer a while longer,' he said quietly. 'I'm accepted as one o' the regulars now an' I put meself about while I'm there. All the bookies know me an' sooner or later somebody's gonna let somefing slip. I'll find out who that last toe-rag is. I'll get ter the bottom of it all, in the end.'

'Well, don't go takin' no chances, son,' Florrie warned him. 'If ever yer do find out who it was, let the coppers 'andle it. Yer only one on yer own. Yer wouldn't stand a chance wiv that lot o' no-good 'ore-sons.'

Joe's eyes narrowed. 'When I find out fer sure, I won't trouble the coppers, Flo. That's somefink I'm gonna take care of meself,' he said firmly. 'They can 'ave the proof about the goin's-on there an' the crooked copper, if I ever do get any, but that b.a.s.t.a.r.d who was involved in me bruvver's death is gonna answer ter me, I swear it.'

Florrie stood up with a sigh and gathered together the empty teacups. 'Well, I'm glad yer told me everyfing, son,' she said. 'I was beginnin' ter wonder about yer comin's an' goin's. I 'ad a feelin' there was somefing goin' on. Don't worry though, I won't breave a word about what yer up to. Yer can trust yer ole Florrie ter keep 'er trap shut. Now what about a fresh cuppa?'

At eleven o'clock on the eleventh day of the eleventh month of 1918 the war finally came to an end. Along the river tug-whistles sounded, their high-pitched notes almost drowned by the booming fog-horns of the large berthed ships. Maroons were fired from the Tower of London, and paper-boys ran excitedly through the streets with special editions. Fireworks were let off and terrified horses shied, setting the carmen struggling desperately with the reins. Factories and tanneries in Bermondsey shut down for the day, and when Florrie Axford looked through her fresh lace curtains and saw Maisie Dougall talking excitedly to the neighbours she was quick to put on her coat and hurry out to the group lest she miss any of the latest news.

'My ole man told me. Come back down the street 'specially, 'e did,' Maisie was going on. ''E said 'e b.u.mped inter Alec Crossley on 'is way ter work an' Alec told 'im the pubs are gonna stay open all day. Well, as long as the beer lasts out anyway.'

Aggie Temple chuckled as she turned to Sadie Sullivan. 'I fink I'll tong me 'air an' get me best coat out the wardrobe,' she said. 'I might even get me ole man ter take us up the Kings Arms before 'e gets legless.'

Sadie puckered her lips. 'There's special Ma.s.s at Dock'ead terday. Me an' my Daniel are goin' there first. 'E can get p.i.s.sed afterwards,' she declared.

Ida Bromsgrove had also seen her neighbours gathering and she knocked on Maggie Jones's door. 'Come on, Mag, there's a meetin' down the street,' she told her.

The two women joined the group, quickly followed by Maudie Mycroft who was getting ready for the women's meeting. 'Good Gawd!' was all she could say when she heard the news.

Florrie began to frown. 'Well, this is one time I'm not gettin' wedged in that snug bar,' she growled. 'I fink us women should all march inter the public bar. If they don't like it - well, sod the bleedin' lot of 'em. Our money's as good as theirs.'

Maudie pulled on her bottom lip. 'S'posin they turned us out? I'd feel such a fool,' she said in a worried voice.

'Let 'em try,' Sadie said, showing Maudie her clenched fists. 'If any o' the men try ter chuck me out, I'll smash 'em one.'

'All the dockers'll be in there, an' the carmen from the yard,' Maudie said fearfully.

Maggie nodded. 'It won't 'alf be packed in there. I bet we won't get a seat.'

'Well, I'm not standin' in that poxy snug bar like a sardine in a tin,' Florrie a.s.serted. 'We're all gonna walk in that public bar an' if the men don't offer us a seat we'll all stand at the counter, an' when they see they can't get served they'll soon change their tune.'

'Good fer you, Flo,' Sadie shouted. 'Now come on, gels, let's get ourselves ready. C'mon, Aggie, I'll tong your 'air an' then yer can do mine.'

Early that evening the women of Page Street marched into the public bar of the Kings Arms and were immediately offered seats. Drinks were sent to their tables and the publican did not offer any objections. The sight of Sadie Sullivan and Florrie Axford leading the women into the establishment, with the large figure of Ida Bromsgrove following close behind, was too daunting even for the likes of the landlord.

Chapter Forty-two.

During the bitter cold November and through into December the soldiers' homecoming was celebrated, with Union Jacks hanging from upstairs windows and bunting tied across the narrow Bermondsey backstreets. In Page Street the flags were flying and folk stood at their front doors as the young men arrived back home from the mud and carnage of the Western Front. Maisie's son Albert was the first to arrive, looking pale and thin but in good spirits as he strolled proudly down the street in his khaki uniform with its shining b.u.t.tons, wearing puttees over his highly polished boots. One week later Joe Sullivan came home to a tearful reunion with his mother. His father stood back, smiling broadly and brushing a tear from his eye as he waited for his wife to release their son from a huge bear-hug. Billy stood beside his father and waited to greet his younger brother, smiling broadly and holding himself erect even though his chest was hurting. One week later the Jones boy sauntered into the street wearing his MM ribbon and chewing arrogantly on a plug of tobacco.

In early December Danny Tanner arrived home to a flag-bedecked Bacon Street and an emotional reunion with his parents. Nellie stood back and eyed him up and down critically.

'Yer look pale. Yer need a good dinner inside yer, son,' she said, fighting back her tears of joy.

William pumped his son's hand and immediately noticed the power in his grasp. 'Yer look well, boy. Yer put on a bit o' weight too,' he remarked.

Danny shrugged his broad shoulders and grinned, his blue eyes twinkling in his wide face as he picked up his kitbag. 'I bin doin' some boxin', Pop. I was the regimental champion,' he said proudly.

Nellie shook her head and sighed deeply. 'I'll never understand you men. Didn't yer see enough blood wivout knockin' yer mates silly?' she moaned.

Danny glanced quickly at his father and then beckoned to a strong-looking lad who was watching the homecoming. ''Ere, son, carry me kitbag upstairs fer me, will yer?' he asked, handing the lad a silver threepenny piece.

'Ain't yer comin' in?' Nellie said with a disappointed look on her face.

'Later, Ma. I wanna see Billy Sullivan first,' he replied, backing away up the street.

Danny was stopped in his tracks by a loud shriek as Carrie came running into the turning. He staggered back a pace as she threw herself into his arms.

'I knew yer'd be all right. I jus' knew yer'd come 'ome in one piece,' she gasped, kissing him.

Danny was grinning as he finally broke away. He gave the lad by his kitbag an exaggerated glare. 'Well, go on then, carry it up,' he growled.

Carrie slipped her arm through his and smiled lovingly at him. 'C' mon in an' I'll tell yer all the news,' she said excitedly.

'Look, sis, I wanna slip round an' see Billy first,' he said.

Carrie took a tighter grip on his arm. 'Billy can wait a bit longer. First yer gonna eat,' she laughed, pulling him close to her. 'Fred give me some sardines fer yer. I told 'im 'ow much yer like sardines.'

Danny knew it was useless to protest any more and he allowed himself to be led up the dusty wooden stairs to the family home.

The Kings Arms was packed with customers on Friday evening and in the public bar the Tanner family was gathered to celebrate Danny's homecoming. Carrie sat with her mother in one corner and they chatted happily their eyes occasionally straying towards their menfolk who were standing at the counter. Fred and William were listening to Danny's account of his experiences in France but their attention was being distracted by a noisy conversation going on beside them. The large figure with a bloated and battered face was leaning on the counter his ma.s.sive fists clenched on either side of his half-empty gla.s.s of ale.

He suddenly turned his head sideways, his eyes boring into his companion's. 'That was the fifth inside the distance. None of 'em last very long,' he sneered. 'Not against me they don't.'

'Got anyfink lined up?' the carman asked respectfully.

His harsh laugh boomed out. 'Yer better ask Galloway. I don't make the matches or pick me opponents, I only knock 'em out.'

Danny was becoming irritated by the man's loud boasting. 'Who's that loud-mouthed git?' he asked, the muscles in his jaw tightening.

His father's face became stern. 'That's Jake Mitch.e.l.l,' he told him. ''E's always in 'ere braggin' about the fights 'e's 'ad. Take no notice.'

Danny became quiet as he sipped his drink. While he was away Carrie had been writing to him about everything that was happening at home and she had explained how Jake Mitch.e.l.l had taken over their father's job. Danny's blood had boiled when he learned of his father's treatment at the hands of George Galloway and now he could feel his anger slowly rising again as he listened to the ring-scarred brute at the counter. His handsome face became set hard. Slowly he moved so that he was standing against the counter with his back to Jake Mitch.e.l.l.

'Does 'e 'ave ter shout? We don't all wanna 'ear 'is business,' Danny said loudly.

William shook his head and pulled a face but his son ignored the warning. 'Does 'e fink everybody's deaf in 'ere?' he went on goading.

Mitch.e.l.l was bellowing with laughter, unaware of what Danny was saying, and the young man became impatient. He turned to Mitch.e.l.l's companion and whispered something in his ear. The carman's face took on a frightened look and he stared at the young Tanner with wide eyes.

'What's 'e say?' Mitch.e.l.l asked quickly, seeing the carman's reaction.

'Nuffink, Jake.'

'I asked yer what 'e said,' the large man growled menacingly.

Danny turned to face Mitch.e.l.l. 'I told 'im ter tell yer ter keep yer voice down. We can't 'ear what we're talkin' about,' he said, putting his gla.s.s down on the counter.

The frightened carman backed away from the counter as he saw Mitch.e.l.l's eyes start to bulge, and William quickly stepped in front of his son. ''E's just back from the front,' he said quietly, trying to defuse the situation.