Eve of the Isle (23 page)

If Jimmy wasn't back in the morning, that's exactly what she'd do. Hadn't been near a bucket and pail in years and like Jimmy, hated the thought of breathing the same air as a bluebottle, specially one of them that stood like Lord Muck behind a desk. He'd look her up and down and have that smirk on his face that only coppers possessed. A flower-seller, he'd say – gone all night – what was unusual about that? He'd snigger to his 'oppo and they'd look at her as if she was no more than a dock dolly herself. Because who was going to believe that Eve Kumar, a mother of two kids, wasn't a tart but a decent sort, a girl who had never asked for the law's help in her life.

Peg sucked the last of the strength from her roll-up, cast it in the gutter and returned to the cottage. What was she going to tell the boys?

She sat down at the kitchen table and waited for dawn.

Charlie was striding along the embankment, his helmet square on his head, looking at the passers-by, a big smile stretched across his face. He was looking for someone, he wasn't sure who, but he'd know them when he saw
them. Trouble was there was a brawl going on. He was reluctant to intervene, yet it was his job to do just that.

Or was it? Something was wrong. He looked down at his legs. Instead of boots, his feet were bare. One of his ankles had a manacle round it. Suddenly he heard laughing. He looked up to see Johnny Puxley standing outside the Tower of London. The jackdaws were flying around him and there was a woman dressed in royal attire and wearing a crown. A big red heart was painted on it.

The Queen of Hearts . . . now, how did she get there?

He couldn't run away, the ball and chain were too heavy. In the distance he heard the hooting of a ship and in the moat, a man was drowning. He knew in one part of his mind that he was dreaming but in the other, he was terrified. Johnny was going to throw him in too. And with the heavy weight on his leg he would drown alongside the sailor.

‘Son, wake up.'

Charlie opened his eyes to see the flushed and flour-streaked face of his father under his floppy white baker's cap. ‘Dad?'

‘You all right, Charlie?'

‘Yes . . . yes. I must've been dreaming.'

‘You've got a visitor, son.'

Charlie took a minute to get his bearings. ‘A visitor? What time is it?'

‘Half three.'

‘You still cooking?'

‘No, we're all done now. Your mother and me are going for our kip now. Won't get more than a few hours as it's Saturday. You gonna lend us a hand in the shop?'

‘Yeah, 'course.'

‘Good lad. Now get downstairs and see what your chum wants. I'm off to me bed.'

Assuming it was Robbie, for it could only be him at this hour, Charlie threw off the covers hurriedly. What the devil did Robbie want? Had he been drinking until this hour and decided to play some sort of joke? If that was the case, he'd find out pretty soon that robbing a man of his well-earned kip would brook him no favours.

Charlie dragged on his trousers and shirt. With the disturbing memory of the dream still in his head, he hurried down the narrow flight of stairs that led to the bakery. As children, Charlie and his two brothers had enjoyed the diversity of the old building, playing tag, or hiding from one another in the warren of rooms above the bakery. From outside the row of shops seemed to be squashed together in a crooked line, but it had always been a happy home to them. They had helped out in the bakery, run errands and even pulled pies from the hot ovens and delivered them, still sizzling, to the local traders. Pounding down the wooden staircase, the unmistakable aroma of fresh bread engulfed him. He should be accustomed to it after all these years, but there was something about the smell that never failed to give him a sense of well-being. And by the time he
reached the lower floor, his irritation at having been woken was already subsiding.

Charlie hurried past the little store room filled with provisions for the benefit of the local tradesmen, marketeers and rounds men. As he approached the counter, he saw the trays of freshly baked bread arranged on shelves, ready for the first purchasers of the day. The little shop at the front would be bustling, filled to capacity. As a family baker of long standing, his parents were well respected. Even the Jewish shopkeepers traded with them on occasion. His dad's bagels were beyond belief.

The light was on in the shop and Charlie blinked. He was surprised to see not Robbie, but Jimmy Jones, Eve's friend.

The boy was ashen faced and dripping sweat. ‘I come on me bike, Charlie,' he said in a rush, ‘been looking for you – didn't have no number or street. Only knew your dad's shop was off the Commercial Road.'

‘Hey, take it easy lad. You look done in.'

‘Charlie, I . . .'

‘Here, get your breath. Come and sit down.' Charlie led him behind the counter and pulled out a stool. He brushed off the flour. The boy was out of breath and panting. ‘Do you want a drink?'

‘Yeah, wouldn't mind.'

Charlie ran cold water from the tap in the store room and handed Jimmy the enamel mug. He downed it in one.

‘That better?'

He nodded.

‘Now, take your time and tell me what's wrong.' Charlie was certain there was something amiss.

‘It's . . . it's about the ship, the one that's docked in the Pool, the
Tarkay
.'

Charlie stiffened his back. ‘What do you know about that?'

‘Eve showed me your note.'

Charlie slowly pulled out another stool and sat down. ‘Now why would she do that?'

Jimmy rubbed his wet lashes and blinked. ‘I got this new job see. It's down at the PLA, running for the bosses. I gets about a bit, sees a lot of them lascars going and coming. So Eve shows me your note and asks me to find out something if I can. So I can't refuse, can I? Not Eve.'

Charlie felt a wave of apprehension. ‘So what did you find out?'

‘This beggar tells me Singh is in sailortown, Shadwell to be precise.'

Charlie swallowed hard. His mouth was going dry. This wasn't supposed to happen. If Eve had wanted help, why hadn't she come to him?

‘Eve didn't come home last night,' Jimmy continued, his eyes full of fear. ‘Peg and me, we don't know what to do. But I remembered the name on your dad's van and—'

‘Are you saying Eve's gone to Shadwell?' Charlie felt sick to his stomach.

The boy nodded.

‘Could she be anywhere else, with a neighbour, a friend?'

‘We tried 'em all.'

‘When did you last see her?'

Jimmy frowned. ‘Friday morning it was, before she left for work. I was jumping on me bike and waved.'

‘She didn't say she was going to Shadwell then?'

‘No, doubt if she would. She knew I was against it. I told her to come after you.'

‘Well, she didn't.'

‘It was her pride, Charlie. I knew she wanted to.'

‘She told you I was a copper?'

‘Yeah. Don't make no difference to me though. I know you ain't like the rest. That's why I'm here.'

‘You did right, lad.' Charlie rose to his feet, pushing his hand through his hair. He tried to clear his mind, think calmly. ‘But I can't believe you'd leave it till now.'

‘Didn't suss where she'd gone till last night. Wished I'd never told her about Singh.'

It came home to Charlie then that if he hadn't tried to contact Eve again, hadn't written to her of the
Tarkay
, she would be at home now, safe and sound.

‘It's not your fault. I thought she would come to me.'

Charlie drew his hand over the back of his neck. He
tried to think what to do first. He was a policeman, for God's sake, he should know the ropes. Was that what he should do first? Go to the station and report her missing? Or should he search himself? He wanted to do everything at once. As he considered the options, a cold calm came over him. First he would get out his dad's van, drive with Jimmy to Shadwell, have a look round. If they could see nothing, find nothing, do nothing, then he'd go straight to the station and make a report.

As Charlie gathered his coat and his senses together, he was aware that dawn had broken. A soft light was making its way through the shop window. His parents would be rising in a couple of hours and he'd offered to help them.

He'd leave a short note, say that he'd borrowed the van and lock the shop behind him. He was lucky to have no duty this weekend. Though if he couldn't find Eve in the next hour or two, he'd be down at the station anyway, only this time not in his professional capacity but as a friend of the missing person.

‘Where's Mum?' Samuel asked as he sat down at the kitchen table for his breakfast. ‘She didn't say prayers with us last night.'

Peg waved her hand. ‘You was asleep when she got in.'

‘She said she was taking us to St Saviour's this morning.' Albert joined his brother at the table. ‘We got to make our confession.'

Peg shrugged. ‘It won't hurt you to go on your own. Now, eat your porridge.'

Albert pushed away his bowl. ‘Don't want any.'

‘It's not like you to refuse food.'

‘I don't want another ticking off from Father Flynn.'

Samuel nodded. ‘Or me.'

Peg would like to say a thing or two to that old misery Father Flynn. His hand shot out quicker than a lizard's tongue when he was holding the offertory plate, but ask him to give a word or two of comfort to his flock and you'd be more likely to get sackcloth and a bell thrown at you.

‘He says he's going to learn us the catechism.' Samuel looked at his brother. ‘We'll be in chapel all day. And it ain't even Sunday.'

Albert nodded. ‘It ain't fair.'

‘No, I don't reckon it is,' agreed Peg as she washed the dishes. She knew her tongue was getting the better of her but she couldn't have this. ‘Look, your mother will be upset if you don't go to confession as she promised Sister Mary. But I tell you what, when the old bug – Father Flynn,' she corrected herself swiftly, ‘has finished giving you the lecture, then you tell him you can't stop as you're gonna help me with the chores and if he wants to contest that, he can walk down to Isle Street and I'll tell him personally.'

Samuel and Albert giggled.

‘He won't like it, but he knows better than to upset old Peg.' She dried her hands on the towel and pulled
open the table drawer. Inside it were the sweets she kept alongside her spare tin of tobacco. She gave the boys two long strips of liquorice. ‘Don't eat them all at once and take a handkerchief to wipe yer lips.'

They dashed upstairs and she listened to the sound of their boots on the floorboards as they got themselves ready.

She had not had to explain their mum's absence thank goodness. If only Jimmy would hurry back and let her know what had happened.

‘'Bye Peg.' The boys ran out of the front door. She watched them play fight in the road and wondered if she should seize her chance now they had gone to look for their mother. But they wouldn't be long. She had given them the excuse to come home early and the thought of going to the police station was as repugnant now as it was last night.

She stood indecisively as a cart came down the hill. To Peg's surprise the big horse stopped a few yards away and a whiskery looking fellow jumped down. He pulled two baskets from the back.

Peg felt her blood run cold. They were Eve's.

Chapter Fourteen

‘W
e'll try the waterfront now so keep your eyes peeled,' Charlie told Jimmy as they left the Commercial Road.

Jimmy suppressed a yawn as he pushed his face up to the window.

‘Are you supposed to be at work this morning?'

‘Yeah, the boss will have to run his own errands.'

Charlie felt a good deal of respect for this young lad. He was risking his job to find Eve.

‘If Singh is on shore leave,' Charlie said quietly, ‘he'll stay in lodgings. Perhaps with a woman, perhaps on his own.'

‘We can't go knocking on every door.'

‘No, but it's the doss houses we're interested in.'

‘We'll have our work cut out,' Jimmy frowned. ‘No one takes kindly to enquiries in sailortown.'

Charlie knew Jimmy had a point. Yet what other course of action could he take?

After a short drive, interrupted frequently by the early morning traders, their horses and carts and a few
trams and buses, they arrived in the shabby streets of Shadwell. Here there was no movement from the near to derelict houses.

Charlie brought the van to a halt. Singh could be in any one of these stinking, truly shameful dwellings. Most of the doors were bolted by their hard-bitten landladies, pimps and prostitutes. Charlie had made a foray down this way in his training days. Even Sergeant Moody had not stayed long here to press the theft enquiry they were conducting.

Charlie got out of the van and narrowed his eyes at the silent street. The morning had a slight bite to it, and the silence was broken only by the distant river traffic and the cries of gulls overhead.

‘You sure about this?' Jimmy asked nervously.

‘Stay in the van if you want.'

‘Don't be daft.' Jimmy pulled back his shoulders. ‘What do you want me to do?'

‘Go to the next road and knock. If you manage to get a response, ask for a room. Say your friend has told you there might be one going and you can pay a week's rent up front. That way you'll get their interest. Only then mention Singh is your friend. See if you get a result.'

‘What kind of result?'

‘You'll know when you get it.'

Charlie watched the boy walk off, his shoulders sloping under his dirty jacket. Had he done right in allowing the youngster to accompany him?

Charlie made his way to the first front door and knocked. There was no reply so he knocked again. He wasn't surprised when the window above him opened and a woman leaned out.