Eve of the Isle (38 page)

The room was stacked high with books and ledgers and a thick, papery smell filled the air. Two or three other clerks were hurriedly sifting through their work and glancing at their watches.

To Charlie's immense relief, the male clerk returned. But the relief was short-lived as the pinch-faced and bespectacled older man shook his head. ‘The
Tarkay
was due to dock the day after tomorrow. But we are told she has been delayed.'

‘Delayed?' Charlie frowned.

‘This could be due to any amount of reasons,' the clerk said dismissively. ‘Not sufficient crew, bad weather, a storm somewhere – especially if the voyage takes in Cape Horn through the Straits of Magellan. Never know what weather they hit round there.'

‘When will you know?' Charlie persevered.

‘When the vessel's owners enlighten us further.'

‘When will that be? I mean, could it still be before the New Year do you think?'

The man slid off his spectacles and frowned at Charlie. ‘Constable, I only work in this office; I don't have a crystal ball.'

Charlie smiled. ‘I'm sorry, it's just that this is important.'

The clerk gave him another stern look. ‘Can you tell me why it's so important?'

Charlie sighed softly. ‘It's a long story, but we are trying to trace a member of the crew.'

‘British or Indian?'

Charlie frowned. ‘A lascar, a man named Somar Singh.'

‘And you are certain he's on board? These crews change quickly, you know.'

Charlie frowned. ‘I can't be entirely certain he's on the
Tarkay
.'

The clerk pushed his spectacles further up on his nose. ‘Have you consulted the British Consul or Customs Office?'

Charlie shrugged. He knew that without Sergeant Moody's authority he couldn't do such a thing.

The clerk peered at him. ‘The masters of each ship must notify the Customs Office of all lascars taken on at the commencement of a voyage.'

‘But what if Singh was taken on in India, not here for the return journey?'

‘Then the Indian authorities would hold that information.'

Charlie thanked the man and left the office. He had no way of securing this information, not without help from his superior. He cringed to think of what Sergeant Moody would say if he knew of all Charlie's exploits in an effort to get at the truth about Raj Kumar's death. No, it was just a question now of patience and waiting for the
Tarkay
to dock.

Outside in the cold air, the Christmas spirit abounded. People were preparing for the celebrations. Charlie felt the exertion of his late shift suddenly kick in. Though he was tired, the morning air was sweet and crisp. He was looking forward to changing from
his uniform into his vest and cotton trousers to help his father with the last of the bread that would stand cooling in the shop for the local tradesmen. Thank heaven his dad was recovering from his chill now. But he'd had a few worries of late. The big oven in the bakery wasn't behaving itself and business had suffered in the Depression. Not as badly as some, but with the relentless upkeep of the bakery and shop, it had been a strain.

Charlie hopped on his bike, intending to enjoy an easy ride from the station, casting a smile to anyone who looked likely to return it. His thoughts as usual turned to Eve; it had been a wonderful Sunday celebration with Eve at his side. She seemed to have taken to Pam and Dulcie especially. Samuel and Albert had got on well with all his nieces and nephews and his parents had been charmed by the beautiful holly studded with red berries and the fragile stems of mistletoe that Eve had brought with her.

After dinner as they sat round singing carols, he'd felt the warmth of the open fire as it reflected on their faces. Eve sat beside him on the couch in the big family room full of the people he most cared about in all the world. He'd been grateful that his family had welcomed Eve in the way they had.

He'd driven Eve and the boys back to the cottage that evening, wondering if he'd ever get the chance to take her in his arms and tell her how much he thought of her. But Peg and Joan had been waiting, eager to
hear their news. Another two hours had been spent in the company of Eve's family and time had flown. How touched he had been when Samuel and Albert had given him his present from under the tree. The scarf and gloves were perfect for winter. He had something rather special of his own to give to them too. A leather football to replace the well-worn one that he had previously given them. This one was top notch quality from one of the big city stores. He'd purchased it at the same time as he'd bought a shawl for Eve, not as colourful as her flower-selling shawl, but it was a good quality wool, and very warm. He'd given Peg a wallet of her favourite tobacco and for Joan he'd got what was now her favourite tipple, a large stoneware bottle of ginger beer. After singing a few carols and eating mince pies for supper, it had been time to leave. Once again, a private moment with Eve had escaped him, but as he drove home he knew that he couldn't have wished for a better Christmas.

Charlie was deep in thought as he turned onto the Commercial Road. Had he done right in not telling Eve of the fire at the Drunken Sailor? But again, there didn't seem to be the right time before Christmas. And what good would it have done? Perhaps in the new year they could sit down on their own and quietly discuss things.

What would the new year hold for them? He hoped for good health for his dad and continued employment for George and Joe. For himself and Eve and
the boys, he hoped for a fresh start. For now it was clear that he couldn't think of his future without them.

But did the memories of her husband burn so brightly that the light could never be extinguished?

It was this that spurred him on in searching for the answers to Raj Kumar's death.

Eve and the boys walked to St Saviour's for Midnight Mass. The night was cold and clear and though it was late, both pupils and parents filled the chapel to its last inch. After the carol service, the Christmas Mass began. Soon the air was full of incense, strengthened by the whiffs of the alcohol that had been consumed during the evening. The babies and younger children were sleepily squashed in the pews, hushed into silence as Father Flynn began his oratory.

Eve sat with Samuel and Albert watching their classmates, the altar boys, as they served the Mass. Their black floor-length cassocks and white surplices were complemented perfectly by the golden vestments draped over the altar. Though her sons now knew the Latin Mass word-perfect, they had not been chosen to assist Father Flynn. Eve knew that Sister Mary and Sister Superior hadn't found it in their hearts to forgive her for her outburst. But as the service continued, Eve comforted herself with the thought that Raj would have been proud to see his sons as they sat straight-backed in the hard wooden pews, reciting the Latin responses.
Raj had been a good Catholic, this was what he would have wanted for his boys.

When the Mass was over, they filed out into the night and hurried home for the excitement of Christmas Day. Eve had bought large ripe oranges and big red apples, two brown bags full of liquorice and a pennyworth each of barley twists to put in the boys' stockings. Under the tree there were small presents from Joan, Peg and Jimmy. It was going to be a wonderful day.

On Boxing Day the Higgins asked them all to tea. There were cold meats, pickles and bubble and squeak that they ate to their hearts' content. The Higgins' cottage was full to the brim with family, and dirty-faced, squabbling children ran up and down the stairs playing hide and seek. The out of tune piano was in use all day as Maude played a never-ending series of music hall tunes. Joseph had been invited, but he had declined. Eve knew that he had visitors of his own, a young couple who had travelled from Russia to start a new life in this country and to whom Joseph was affording hospitality.

Jimmy brought his friend from Shoreditch, another errand boy, with whom he had stayed during the flood. And together with Samuel and Albert and some of the Higgins' grandchildren they went to the park with Charlie's new football. Enjoying the peace, the grownups were left to entertain themselves for an hour.

When it grew dark, the visitors began to leave. As Eve, Peg, Joan, Jimmy and the boys walked down the hill to number three, they were singing carols. Behind them, Joseph's lights shone out, reflecting the silhouette of a tall ship at the dock walls. The darkening sky still held a little light blue magic and the rigging and furled sails looked like a picture postcard. Eve inhaled the tarry salt and oily scents that rose up from the quiet river. There was no water traffic to speak of and the docks were still.

She could hardly believe that a year ago, there had been such a violent storm that shook the whole nation. This same peaceful river had risen up and leapt over its banks to flood the city's capital. Just like the stories she had always repeated to the boys, Old Father Thames seemed to have lifted his weed-covered spirit from the riverbed and tossed his watery vengeance at the people of London.

It was cold as they entered the cottage, but Eve quickly made up a fire in the front room whilst the boys went upstairs to put on their cut-down coms. Peg busied herself in the kitchen, stoking the stove and squeezing out the last of the heat.

Eve stared into the flames and thought of Charlie. Had it been a blessing in disguise when they were trapped upstairs in the cottage by six feet of foul water? It was then, almost a year ago, that she had first met Charlie. Since then, with his help, she had searched for the truth about Raj and had only been saved from
drowning by the very man who had rescued her from the flood. She had also been ‘outside of herself', as she had now come to think of the experience on that murky night on the foreshore when she had watched Charlie trying to revive her.

Eve sat on the chair in her coat, mesmerized by the scarlet flames licking at the chimney from the piece of wood she had placed on top of the cold embers. The fire had caught and was burning brightly.

It was as if that was what had happened to her. When she met Charlie, small sparks of happiness began to land on her grieving heart and bring it back to life.

Yet she still thought of Raj and wondered when and how he had departed this earth. Had he sunk below the waves as she had and struggled for his life? Or had something else happened? And why? If only she could set her mind at rest . . .

As Eve tucked the boys into bed that night, she saw Raj in their innocent faces. They had lit a candle for Raj after Midnight Mass and a warm feeling had come over her, as though his presence was close by.

Was he trying to tell her something? Was he reluctant to leave his family until all was well?

Could another person ever love their two boys as Raj had loved them?

‘Mum, when's Charlie coming round?' Samuel yawned as she sat on the foot of their bed.

‘In the new year, I expect.'

Albert stuck his nose over the cover. ‘Duggie said he ain't seen such a good football as what Charlie bought us.'

‘Yes, it's a very good one.'

‘Charlie said we could go to a match,' said Samuel yawning again. ‘With Willie and James and Olly. We can all squeeze in the van, just about.'

‘But what if it's on Saturday morning?' Albert said in alarm. ‘Father Flynn'll get cross if we don't go to confession.'

Albert's question hung in the air but it wasn't long before he spoke, his dark eyes studying her face. ‘Mum, do you think Charlie is nice?'

‘Of course I do,' said Eve as both boys giggled.

‘But nice, like you thought Dad was nice?'

‘What's this all about?' Eve ruffled their hair and pulled up the covers.

‘He thinks you're nice.'

Eve blushed. ‘How do you know that?'

‘He told George and Lucy heard and she told Emily and Emily told Daniel. And then Daniel told us.'

Eve laughed. ‘You children are worse than the adults. Now come on, let's say our prayers.'

When they had yawned their way through their prayers, she bent to kiss their heads. ‘Goodnight and God Bless, see you in the morning, by God's good grace, Amen.'

Later that night before Eve climbed into bed, she
gazed out of the window. The lamplight reflected the ruins of the cottage across the road and, beyond, the dazzle of the sky was breathtaking. A million stars glowed above the city. In six days time it would be 1929, and she wondered what the new year would bring.

Chapter Twenty-Two

I
t was New Year's Day and Joseph Petrovsky watched the young couple walk away from his house and disappear down the hill. He had provided them with food and drink for their long journey to the north where they hoped to find work and a new life. Though he had bidden them a cheery farewell, he was uncertain of their future. They were seeking freedom and had come to England to escape their problems. But they would not find it an easy path, Joseph thought as he went back inside to the warmth of his fire. However, they were in love and had survived an outrageous persecution and that strength of character would see them through.

He had given shelter to many such aspirants, as he quietly went about his life's work, which was to provide shelter and encouragement when his countrymen fled from the persecution. Though England's streets were not paved with gold and most of them were cold and empty places to be at this time of year, the tales of hardship in the old country were abominable to Joseph's
ears. The peasants forced into communes and the kulaks destroyed, whilst each unique spirit was broken for the good of all. In one form or another, the tyranny had come down through the ages. The young man and his wife who had poured out their hearts to him over Christmas had escaped this imprisonment in their search for freedom.

He sat quietly for a while, a gentle satisfaction filling him that once again he had been able to provide a safe house for the needy, but life in England was not an easy one either. Those who sought his help were often starving, tired and frightened when they came secretly to his door. He provided a brief rest for them, but that was all. Until he drew his last breath, he would serve them. It was his destiny and he thanked God he had the means in this old house; though he and Gilda had not been blessed with earthly children, he could aid these infants of the political storm.