Gaslight in Page Street (67 page)

William shook his head. ‘No. I don’t care ter watch two blokes bashin’ each ovver’s brains out jus’ so a few people can get rich bettin’ on the outcome.’

Joe’s face creased in a brief, appreciative smile. ‘Florrie reckons yer a bloke ter be trusted, so I’m gonna put me cards on the table,’ he said, looking William in the eye. ‘But yer’ll ’ave ter understan’, Will, that what I’m gonna tell yer is between us alone. I’ve not even let on ter Florrie what I’m doin’ this side o’ the water, but I will in good time, ’cos I might need a few friends. As I said, it’s a long story so I might as well start at the beginnin’.

‘I come from a river family. Me ole man an’ ’is farvver before ’im were lightermen. Patrick, me older bruvver, follered the tradition, but as fer me they decided I should get an education an’ break the mould. It’s an ’ard an’ dangerous life bein’ a lighterman as yer’ll appreciate. Anyway, schoolin’ an’ me didn’t get on all that well an’ I left early ter work in Poplar Market. I used ter ’elp out on the stalls an’ when I was eighteen I ’ad one o’ me own. I used ter sell fruit an’ veg an’ I made a go of it. Then I got in wiv a dodgy crowd an’ from then on it was shady deals an’ lookin’ over me shoulder all the time.

‘I didn’t take after me bruvver Patrick, ’e was as straight as a die. ’E was a big strappin’ man who could ’andle ’imself in a fight. ’E used ter go ter the fairs an’ ’ang around the boxin’ booths. Patrick couldn’t resist a challenge an’ I’ve seen ’im give a good account of ’imself more than once. ’E won quite a few bob too. One or two o’ the pubs in Stepney started these boxin’ tournaments, jus’ like yer’ve got over this side o’ the water. ’Course, bruvver Patrick ’ad ter get involved an’ ’e ’ad a few fights, winnin’ ’em all wiv no trouble, I ’ave ter say.’

‘Did ’e ’ave a manager?’ William cut in.

‘Only the ole man,’ Joe replied. ‘I used ter go along an’ ’elp out but they didn’t like me bein’ there. I s’pose they was worried in case I got the bug. Anyway, Patrick built up quite a reputation. “The Battlin’ Lighterman” ’e was known as. Then George Galloway came on the scene.’

‘Galloway?’ William said in surprise.

‘Yeah, Galloway,’ Joe said bitterly. ‘’E used ter travel all over the place ter see a fight, an’ before long ’e was promotin’ ’is own fighter.’

‘Jake Mitchell,’ William said quickly.

Joe nodded. ‘Or Gypsy Williams, as ’e used ter be known. Mitchell was in ’is prime then an’ ’e was matched wiv Patrick. There was a lot o’ money staked on the outcome an’ me bruvver was odds-on ter win. Anyway, while Patrick was gettin’ ready ter go on an’ me an’ the ole man were fussin’ around ’im, we was paid a visit by a couple o’ villainous-lookin’ blokes. They didn’t waste no time tellin’ us that eivver Patrick lost or else we’d be sorted out. The bribe money was put inter me farvver’s ’and an’ then they left. There was no way on earth that me bruvver was gonna chuck that fight an’ that night ’e ’ad the best scrap of ’is life. It was the last one ’e ever ’ad.

‘’E dropped Jake Mitchell in the third round, an’ then before I knew what was ’appenin’ a crowd o’ me farvver’s pals grabbed me from the ringside an’ bustled me out o’ the pub. Me farvver knew there’d be trouble an’ ’e wanted ter make sure I got ’ome in one piece. The villains was mob-’anded an’ they caught up wiv Patrick an’ me farvver as they was climbin’ out o’ the winder at the back o’ the pub. Me farvver was done up bad an’ ’e never worked again. As fer Patrick, ’e tried ter fight ’em off but they laid ’im out wiv an iron bar. It was the only way they was gonna stop ’im. ’E was taken ter ’ospital in a coma an’ never recovered. A week later ’e was dead.’

William shook his head sadly. ‘Was Galloway involved?’ he asked.

Joe shrugged his shoulders. ‘I dunno, but ’e ’ad a good few friends in Stepney,’ he replied. ‘One fing I do know - ’e tried ter blind Patrick. There was somefink on Mitchell’s gloves an’ me bruvver was fightin’ out o’ one eye after the first round. Exactly a year after that fight me farvver died, I swear it was from a broken ’eart. ’E idolised Patrick.’

‘What about yer muvver?’ asked William.

‘I never knew ’er. She died when I was very young,’ Joe told him. ‘What I’ll never get over is the fact that I wasn’t there ter ’elp Pat an’ the ole man. What I did do though was ter go round an’ sort out the publican. ’E swore ’e didn’t ’ave anyfing ter do wiv it but I wasn’t listenin’. I was done fer grievous bodily ’arm an’ I got four years ’ard labour. When I got out o’ the nick, I got tergevver wiv a few o’ me farvver’s ole pals an’ one or two o’ Patrick’s best mates an’ eventually we got the names o’ four out o’ the five villains be’ind me bruvver’s killin’. Two of ’em are doin’ long stretches, one died o’ syphilis before they get ’old of ’im an’ anovver one ended up in the river, compliments o’ Patrick’s mates. The fifth one was never named. We’re still tryin’ ter identify ’im. Me an’ the rest o’ the lads managed ter get the tournaments stopped, though. Names, locations and times was forwarded ter the police. It was then that I decided ter take a look at Galloway.’

‘So yer fink ’e might be the last one yer lookin’ for?’ William asked.

‘I’m not sure, but that’s what I ’ope ter find out,’ Joe replied. ‘Galloway didn’t show ’is face in Stepney after me bruvver was killed. I tried ter find out where ’e’d disappeared to but all the leads came ter nuffink. At that time I ’ad a stall in Roman Road an’ I was buildin’ up a nice business. Anyway, one day out o’ the blue I suddenly got word that Jake Mitchell was fightin’ in Bermondsey an’ I guessed that was where Galloway was. It didn’t take me long ter find ’im. I knocked on a door in Page Street lookin’ fer lodgin’s an’ the woman there sent me ter Florrie’s ’ouse.’

‘Didn’t Galloway reco’nise yer when yer moved in the street?’ William asked. ‘’E must ’ave seen yer about.’

‘It’s almost eight years ago since Patrick climbed in that ring wiv Jake Mitchell,’ Joe answered. ‘I was jus’ somebody who stood in Patrick’s corner as far as ’e was concerned. I’d never ’ad anyfink ter do wiv Galloway in any case.’

‘’E’d remember the name though, wouldn’t ’e?’ William said. ‘’E would ’ave read about yer gettin’ put in prison, or at least somebody would ’ave told ’im.’

Joe smiled. ‘I thought about that when I knocked on Florrie’s door so I told ’er me name was Maitland. In fact it’s Murphy. Our family come from Ireland originally.’

They had strolled slowly back to the hall and when they reached the entrance steps William turned to face the young man. ‘I’ve got no reason ter like Galloway,’ he said, frowning, ‘but I’ve known ’im since we were kids tergevver. ’E’s a lot o’ fings, but I don’t fink ’e’d get involved in murder.’

‘Well, we’ve got four names an’ I’m not gonna rest till we get the fifth,’ Joe replied. ‘What’s more, I’m gonna get those tournaments stopped. I owe it ter me bruvver Pat. If in the process I find out Galloway was be’ind me bruvver’s killin’, so much the better.’

They had climbed the few steps and William turned at the entrance to the hall. ‘I was told yer go ter the fights,’ he said with a wry smile. ‘So that’s the reason why.’

Joe nodded. ‘I’ve got enough evidence tergevver, an’ if it was a straightforward matter I’d ’ave turned it all over by now,’ he said bitterly.

‘What’s the problem?’ William asked.

The young man looked at him and smiled cynically. ‘If I walked inter the Dock’ead nick an’ gave them the evidence, the next mornin’ yer’d be readin’ about me. I’d be fished out o’ the river or found in some alley wiv me throat cut. One o’ the top coppers at Dock’ead nick is takin’ a cut. ’E wouldn’t be too ’appy ter fink I was spoilin’ ’is little earner, would ’e? What I’ve gotta do is bide me time until I can get ’im dead ter rights, then I’ll turn the lot over ter Scotland Yard an’ let them deal wiv it. Now yer can understand why I don’t want this ter go any furvver. If the wrong person got wind o’ me little game, I’d be done for.’

William gave him a reassuring smile. ‘Yer got no need ter worry on that score, Joe,’ he replied. ‘There’s one fing puzzlin’ me, though. Why did yer ’elp me save those ’orses from the fire? I would ’ave thought yer’d be ’appy ter see the ’ole business burn down.’

Joe laughed. ‘In the first place I was scared yer daughter was gonna get ’urt. After she pulled that wild ’orse away from yer she tried to go back. I ’ad ter stop ’er. She’s a brave young woman is Carrie. The ovver fing is, nobody’d suspect I’m out ter get Galloway seein’ me ’elp yer save the ’orses, would they? In fact Galloway sent me a letter o’ fanks wiv a fiver in it. I burnt the letter an’ gave Florrie the money. There was no way I’d take anyfink off ’im.’

William laughed and put his arm round Joe’s shoulder. ‘D’yer know somefink?’ he said. ‘I’m beginnin’ ter feel a little sorry fer George Galloway. Now what about a drink? I could do wiv one.’

The Saturday evening train was chugging through the Kent countryside as Carrie sat close to Fred, idly watching the wisps of steam from the engine drift away and disappear over the green fields. The wedding had gone off very well, she thought. The bridesmaids had been really sweet and well behaved. It was nice to see Jessica and Freda once more but it was a pity her old school friend Sara had not been there. Carrie had written to her last-known address but there had been no reply. Carrie guessed she must have moved. She was sorry too that Mary Caldwell could not come. She was doing war-work in a munitions factory in the north of England but had sent her best wishes.

The newly-weds were alone in the carriage except for an old lady who was nodding off to sleep. Fred shyly slipped his arm around his bride. It had been a mad dash back to his house, where Carrie changed into a flower-patterned summer dress and a long cotton coat of powder blue. Her blonde hair was still nicely in place on top of her head and Fred looked admiringly at her as she snuggled back in her seat. He felt all dressed-up in his blue serge suit and collar-and-tie, with his highly polished shoes and sleeked-back greying hair. Carrie had been intrigued by the blue shadow which showed around his square chin even though he had taken care to strop the razor before shaving that morning. She felt it made him look strong and protective. She had dusted the confetti from his hair and suit and removed the carnation from his buttonhole before they left his house. Now they were on their way to Margate and Carrie sighed contentedly as she gazed out of the window. Already she had made plans to brighten up the café and encourage Fred to expand the business, but now she was looking forward to a whole week in which to get to know her new husband. She had to put aside all her secret fears and make certain that the marriage would be a happy union. Carrie leant her head back against the seat and closed her eyes. She was starting out on a new adventure, she thought excitedly, but any casual observer would just think they were a married couple taking a trip to the seaside.

The old lady in the carriage was feigning sleep. She had watched as the young couple boarded the train at London Bridge Station and had noticed how the young man held the lady’s arm as he assisted her into the carriage. The pretty young thing had blushed as he squeezed her hand in his and she noticed how the young woman kept glancing at the ring on her finger. They were newly-weds for sure, the old lady told herself. It was all so obvious. Maybe she should offer the couple her good wishes for the future, but that might embarrass them. Lots of couples were not too happy to let the whole world know that they were going away to make love together. That was the way she had felt all those many years ago. Perhaps it would be better if she pretended to sleep. It would allow the couple to whisper sweet nothings in each other’s ear and the young man to slip his arm around the young lady. They certainly wouldn’t do it while they were being watched, the old lady felt.

The train chugged on, passing open fields and tiny hamlets, and Fred glanced quickly at their fellow traveller before stealing a kiss. The old lady saw the kiss through slitted eyes. She was right, she told herself, they were newly-weds. Wasn’t it clever of her to spot all the little signs? Well, it would be an hour yet before the train arrived at Margate. Perhaps she should take a short nap. Yes it was clever of her, she told herself, having completely forgotten that it was the pieces of confetti in the man’s hair which had first revealed to her their secret.

Chapter Forty

Frank Galloway poured himself a large whisky and soda and then walked back into his bedroom. He had heard Caroline crying but the nurse had reassured him that it was only a bad dream or a tummy pain and his daughter was now sleeping soundly. Why did Bella have to go out so much in the evening? he wondered resentfully. After all, she had landed the part in the new show and should be home with him and their daughter. Once the show opened, he would see very little of her. There were to be two performances nightly as well as the matinee, which would leave Bella exhausted. Sunday would be her day of recovery as it had been the last time she was in a show, and then she had only a small part. Now that she had landed the female supporting role, Bella would be expecting him to run around the flat at her every whim, like a trained poodle. Well, he was no one’s lackey. That was nancy boy Hubert’s job. The detestable young oaf had put in his dreaded appearance once more and now seemed to be almost living in the flat. He knew where the Scotch was kept and certainly drank his share. What was it Bella called him? A popinjay? Frank knew a few more colourful ways of describing the obnoxious idiot and felt like trying them out on him next time he called at the house.

Rain was lashing against the window-panes and thunder rolled in the distance as Frank got out of bed, glanced at the alarm clock and walked over to the drawn curtains. It was only nine o’clock. They would be hours yet. As he looked out at the rain beating down on the empty street, he bit anxiously on his lip. It was a sneaky thing to do, pretending he had the shivers and saying he was going to take a sleeping pill, but he had to find out just what kind of game Hubert was really playing. Normally Bella would expect him to look out of the window as the cab pulled up and she usually made a big thing of shouting a goodnight to Hubert as she left him. Would things be different tonight when she thought Frank was sedated? he wondered. Maybe he would catch her kissing the nancy boy goodnight or blowing him a passionate kiss as she ran up the steps to the front door. At least it would prove that Hubert was not the effeminate little toe-rag Bella made him out to be. Well, if Frank did spot any untoward goings-on, Hubert would be sorry the next time he showed his spotty little face in the flat, he vowed.