Gaslight in Page Street (19 page)

‘That’s better! Go on, yer got ’im now! Use yer jab. Jab ’im!’

Billy’s father seemed more confident at the end of the second round. ‘If ’e keeps out o’ trouble, ’e’s won it,’ he told Sadie.

The bell sounded for the last round and the hall erupted as the local hero went all out to finish his opponent. The East Ender was plucky and fought back gamely, but as the bell sounded for the end of the contest everyone realised that Billy Sullivan had won. The two lads stood side by side with the referee holding on to their wrists, and when he raised Billy’s hand the hall erupted in loud cheering. ‘’E’s won! ’E’s done it!’ Sadie cried out, her face scarlet and tears running down her cheeks. ‘What did I tell yer?’ she said proudly to Daniel. ‘Didn’t I tell yer ’e’d win?’

Carrie stood beside Sara, who was glad the tournament was at last over, and when the boxers left the ring and walked past her along the aisle, she called out to him. ‘Well done, Billy.’

He gave her a smile through battered lips and left the arena to back-slaps and compliments as the lights came up. Sadie had just about managed to compose herself and sat down in her seat exhausted after her feats of vocal support for her son.

The crowd was leaving and as one party walked along the aisle, a man among them turned to his friend. ‘Bloody disgrace if yer ask me,’ he said. ‘Our boy won two o’ the rounds. I reckon the ref must ’ave bin blind, or else ’e couldn’t count the score.’

Sadie was on her feet in a flash. ‘Oi! I ’eard what yer said That’s my Billy yer talkin’ about. ’E won easy. If it ’ad gone on anuvver round, ’e’d ’ave knocked your bloke spark out.’

The man laughed at her. ‘What der you know about boxin’, yer silly ole mare?’

‘She can shout a good fight,’ his companion said loudly.

Sadie turned and glared at the smartly dressed woman by the man’s side. ‘Who you talkin’ to, yer ponced-up prat?’ she sneered.

‘Who you callin’ a ponced-up prat?’ the woman screamed back.

‘You, that’s who,’ Sadie said menacingly.

The woman tried to get to Sadie but was held back by her companion who glared at Daniel. ‘Take ’er ’ome, mate. She should be kept locked up,’ he remarked. ‘She’s a bloody nuisance.’

‘Who d’yer fink you’re talkin’ to?’ Daniel retorted, trying to put himself between the two irate women.

Carrie took Sara’s arm and steered her out of the hall as quickly as she could. ‘I ’ope that woman don’t start a fight,’ she said quickly. ‘It was Mrs Sullivan who taught Billy ’ow ter box!’

The hall was emptying and when the East End party spilled into the foggy night the angry woman pulled away from her companion. ‘I don’t care. She ain’t gonna talk ter me like that an’ get away wiv it,’ she shouted.

Sadie was trying to calm down as she left the hall. Daniel was holding on to her and talking in a soothing manner. ‘It don’t matter, luv. Our Billy won fair an’ square an’ that’s all that there is to it. Don’t let ’em get yer dander up. They’re only sorry their bloke didn’t win. Now, if they’re outside, just ignore ’em an’ walk away. Are yer ’earin’ what I’m sayin’?’

‘All right, Dan, I’m listenin’ ter yer. I’ll just ignore ’em,’ she said, trying to convince herself.

As they reached the street Sadie was immediately confronted by the woman who stood with her feet apart and her hands on her hips. ‘Oi, Bigmouth, I wanna word wiv yer,’ she shouted.

Daniel held Sadie’s arm in a tight grip. ‘Remember what I said, luv,’ he muttered out of the corner of his mouth. ‘Let it be an’ jus’ walk on by.’

Sadie gave her husband a quick smile and suddenly tore her arm free. Before Daniel could do anything, his fighting wife was squaring up to the angry woman.

‘C’mon then, yer scruffy-lookin’ cow,’ she jeered. ‘We won five-four. ’Ow about makin’ it six-four?’

The East Ender suddenly made a grab for her hair but Sadie dodged sideways and then threw a punch in the woman’s face which sent her staggering backwards into the gutter.

Sadie was shaping up with her fists and snarling as she watched the woman closely. ‘C’mon then,’ she sneered. ‘Want some more? There’s plenty where that come from.’

Daniel was a slightly built man and no match for his large wife. As he tried to restrain her, she swept him to one side.

The woman who had confronted Sadie was now holding a handkerchief to her bloody nose and crying hysterically. ‘She attacked me!’ she cried. ‘The woman’s a ravin’ lunatic. She should be locked up.’

The large crowd who had enjoyed the tournament stood around hoping for an extra bout, but they were disappointed. The bloody and bowed woman was led away by her companion muttering into her handkerchief. Sadie turned away, feeling quite pleased with the way the evening had turned out, when she was suddenly halted in her tracks.

‘Now what’s bin goin’ on ’ere then?’

Sadie looked at the uniformed figure in front of her and gave him a weak smile. ‘It’s nuffink, mate. We was jus’ ’avin’ a little disagreement, that’s all,’ she said meekly.

The bloodied woman’s companion had seen the policeman approach and hurried over, still holding on to the casualty. ‘That woman attacked my lady friend,’ he said, jerking his thumb at Sadie. ‘She’s mad, I’m sure of it. Look what she’s done.’

PC Harkness had been patrolling the local streets for many years and he knew all about the fighting Sullivans. ‘’Ave yer bin up ter yer tricks again, Sadie?’ he said in a tired voice.

Daniel tried to speak but the constable held up his hand. ‘I’m askin’ Sadie,’ he said.

‘She started on me,’ Sadie replied, trying to look suitably aggrieved. ‘She pulled me ’air out. I ’ad ter defend meself, officer, didn’t I?’

The policeman took out his notebook and sucked on a pencil stub. ‘D’yer wanna make a complaint?’ he asked the woman’s companion.

‘Yer bet yer life I do,’ the man replied. ‘People like ’er should be locked up. My Clara wouldn’t ’arm a fly, would yer, luv?’

‘Right, I’ll ’ave yer names an’ addresses. An’ don’t walk away, Sadie. I want your particulars as well,’ the constable sighed.

Carrie had been watching the affray along with Sara, and when Billy emerged from the hall they ran up to him. ‘Yer mum’s whacked this ’orrible woman, Billy,’ Carrie said quickly. ‘She’s got nicked. There was a copper an’ ’e took ’er name.’ Billy winced. Carrie could see his swollen lips and the graze under his right eye. ‘It’s all right though. Yer mum an’ dad’s gone ’ome wiv yer bruvvers. Are yer feelin’ all right?’

Billy laughed painfully. ‘Yeah, it ain’t so bad. I bet the ovver bloke’s a bit sore too.’

The Sullivan boy carried his boxing-trunks and vest rolled up under his arm as the three of them made their way home through the swirling fog. A tug whistle sounded as they turned into Page Street and when they neared Carrie’s front door, Sara turned to her friend.

‘I’ve enjoyed ternight, Carrie - except fer the blood,’ she said with a big grin. ‘It was nice comin’ out wiv yer. It’s bin a long time since we did it. I’m so pleased yer won, Billy. Me an’ Carrie was cheerin’ fer yer.’

Carrie looked at the young man. ‘We’ll see Sara ’ome, won’t we, Billy?’

He nodded. ‘It’s a bad night ter be out alone. Take me arm.’

The two friends walked the length of the dimly lit turning, each holding on to one of Billy’s arms. They were laughing happily as they turned into Bacon Street and strolled along to the ugly tenement block. The two girls hugged each other good night, and when Sara’s footsteps had faded on the stone stairs Carrie and Billy retraced their steps back into Page Street. Billy was chatting away about his bout and Carrie held on to his arm feeling very grown-up. She liked the young lad and hoped he would ask her out in the near future, but Billy was feeling hazy after his exertions and was still carried away by the excitement of beating the East End champion. When they reached Carrie’s front door he kissed her on the cheek shyly and quickly made off to his house at the end of the turning, leaving her feeling a little disappointed.

Chapter Eleven

On a cold damp Saturday Carrie left the Wilson factory at noon with Jessica and Freda and hurried along to the pie shop in Dockhead. The three girls joined the line of customers. When they were eventually served with plates of hot pie, mashed potatoes and steaming hot parsley liquor, they slipped into a bench seat and quickly devoured their meal.

Jessica swamped her plate with sour vinegar and garnished the pie with a liberal amount of salt and pepper. She was a big girl with chubby features and untidy, mousy hair cut in a straight line above her neck. As she ate the food quickly, her deep-set eyes blinked constantly and the liquor dripped down her chin. Freda, by contrast, was a tallish, slightly built girl with a flat chest and long arms that seemed to sprout from the sleeves of her tight-fitting coat. She was just twenty-one but her thin face and long neck made her look older. Her dark hair was brushed into a tight bun on top of her head and secured with a large comb, and she was wearing a fur muff which was secured to one of the large buttons of her shabby grey coat. Freda had been made pregnant when she was sixteen by a local lad who had then run off to sea. She had had the baby adopted. She had since become bitter and resentful of men and saw the women’s suffrage movement as a cause she could identify with. Unlike Jessica, who had a more casual approach to it, Freda was becoming a dedicated follower and had already been on quite a few marches during the past year.

Carrie finished her meal and glanced at her two friends as a poorly dressed young woman came along the aisle with her two children following her. The youngsters’ clothes were in rags and they looked tired and cold. Each of the children carried a plate of mashed potato and liquor. When they had slipped into the bench seat behind the three girls, Carrie glanced around and saw the woman cut her pie in half and put the portions on her children’s plates. They all ate ravenously, unaware of her eyes on them.

Freda and Jessica had seen the destitute family too and exchanged sad glances.

‘They’ve got one pie between ’em,’ Carrie whispered to her two friends.

Freda looked at Jessica who glanced quickly at Carrie. Without a word she dipped down into her large handbag and put three pennies down on the table. Her spontaneous gesture was immediately matched by her friends, and between them they collected nine pennies. Jessica quickly scooped up the coins and walked up to the counter. ‘Three pie an’ mash, an’ plenty o’ liquor,’ she said saucily.

The young man behind the counter served up the portions and slapped the plates down on the marble counter.

‘More liquor,’ Jessica said, giving him a hard stare.

The man ladled more of the parsley gravy on to the plates without comment and when Jessica was satisfied she walked back and put the brimming portions down in front of the mother and her two children. ‘’Ere, get that down yer,’ she said, smiling widely.

The woman looked up at her benefactor. ‘Gawd bless yer, luv,’ she said quietly.

The three girls hurried from the pie shop, smiling with satisfaction, and hurried to the tram stop.

‘When women get the vote there’s gonna be a few changes made, mark my words,’ Freda said in a firm voice. ‘People round ’ere are starvin’ while up West those bloody dandies in top ’ats an’ fur coats are stuffin’ themselves full o’ the best food an’ drink. It ain’t fair.’

Jessica nodded. ‘Yer right, it ain’t fair, but there’s a lot o’ well-ter-do ladies in the suffragettes, Freda,’ she remarked. ‘They ain’t all turnin’ a blind eye.’

Carrie remained quiet, thinking of what her mother had said about getting herself into trouble. She wondered just what the march was going to be like. Lately everyone seemed to be talking about the suffragettes and some of the stories she had heard made her feel a little apprehensive. Apart from the leaders who regularly got themselves arrested and imprisoned, there were those who came before the courts and were fined for disorderly conduct. Mary had been arrested and fined on two or three occasions and Freda had told her how groups of young men gathered at the meetings to heckle and jeer the speakers, and that fights often broke out during which the police ignored the young men but arrested the women at every opportunity.

When the tram shuddered to a halt and the three climbed aboard, they saw Mary sitting on the lower deck and joined her. Mary was bubbling with excitement and carried a roll of posters which she opened to show her friends. Carrie was aware of whispered remarks from some of the passengers, and the conductor gave them a suspicious look as he walked up and down the aisle to collect the fares.

‘I ’ope yer not finkin’ o’ stickin’ them there posters on my tram, are yer?’ he said in a gruff voice as they swung round into Tower Bridge Road.

Mary gave him a blinding look and nudged Carrie. ‘Silly ole goat! Who wants ter stick posters on ’is rotten old tram?’

When they pulled up at the Tower Bridge Road market, the conductor jumped down and hurried into a café. As soon as his back was turned, Mary got up from her seat and threw the posters into Carrie’s lap. ‘Won’t be a minute,’ she said, giving the girls a saucy wink as she dashed back along the aisle.

The conductor soon emerged from the café carrying a can of tea and the tram moved off. At the Elephant and Castle the girls alighted and Mary gave the conductor a wide grin. ‘Fanks fer yer ’elp,’ she called out to him as the tram pulled away from the stop with a ‘Votes for Women’ poster clearly visible on the rear end.