Lizzie of Langley Street (22 page)

Lil walked back through the market, but just as she came to the second-hand clothes stall she caught sight of Frank Flowers. He was leaning on a lamppost, talking to a girl. Lil picked up a navy
blue jumper and examined it, looking up every so often. A third person joined them. She wasn’t surprised to see it was Vinnie Allen. They all stood talking for a while, then walked off in
different directions.

Lil dropped the jumper and made her way out of the market. It was none of her business – Doug would say – what that little trio was up to. Doug always told her she’d sniff out
a gnat’s fart at a mile. He’d also reminded her that the Flowerses had been good to Lizzie and she’d have to agree. There was no denying that life was a lot rosier now for the
Allens than when poor old Kate was alive.

As she headed home, Lil decided not to tell Lizzie what she’d seen. It would serve no purpose to upset the girl. But that Vinnie mixed with a rough bunch! Last time she had bumped into
him, it had been up Poplar High Street with the bookie. Was Frank also involved with Mik Ferreter?

By the time Lil reached Langley Street she felt proud of herself for making the decision to resist temptation. She would button her lip for once.

But resisting one temptation didn’t mean she had to resist another, did it?

As soon as Doug got in, she’d tell him.

Lizzie had made the bed with clean sheets and washed all Flo’s clothes. The wardrobe, cupboard and floor were scrubbed and disinfected. And the stairs and passage were as
clean as a new pin. The boiler had been going non-stop since the weekend. Taking four days off from the shop meant that she could be with Flo until Sunday. Then Lil said Flo could stay with her
until half term whilst Lizzie was at the shop, and, if Flo felt better, she could go back to school before Christmas. Flo said she would like that. She missed her friends and it would break the ice
before the New Year.

Just as Lizzie came down the stairs, a small hand came through the letterbox and grabbed the string. Lizzie’s heart hammered in her chest. She stopped still as the door slowly opened.

There stood Flo, eyes wide as saucers in her pale, gaunt face. Behind her was James, carrying a big brown paper parcel tied up with string. Her mind flashed back to the day he had brought her
home from Hailing House. That had turned out a dreadful day, but Lizzie knew this was going to be one of the happiest in her life.

Flo was home.

Bursting with joy, Lizzie ran down the rest of the stairs. They were soon in each other’s arms, laughing and crying at the same time.

‘Flo, Flo,’ was all Lizzie could mumble, sniffing back her tears. She looked at James and went red.

‘I’ve ’ad a lovely ride,’ Flo said wheezily. ‘We went really fast this time.’

‘No too fast,’ said James with a wink at Flo. She giggled as he handed her belongings to Lizzie.

‘Thank you for bringing her home,’ Lizzie said quietly. There was a tremble in her voice. ‘Will you thank the ladies for me?’

‘Indeed I will,’ said James in a deep voice. ‘Is there anything else?’

Flo giggled again.

‘No thank you.’

James touched his hat and returned to the big black car. They watched it move off slowly.

When Lizzie closed the door she looked Flo up and down. ‘Well, miss, we’ve got to put some weight on you.’

Flo looked at her with big brown eyes that seemed almost too large for her face. She was wearing her old gabardine mac that was now too small, the sleeves stopping halfway down her arms. Lizzie
had put a bit by for a new coat and was saving the excursion to the market for a surprise.

‘Where is everyone?’ Flo asked looking round.

‘Babs is at the House and Bert’s at the shop.’

‘Ain’t you supposed to be there too?’

‘I’ve got the rest of the week off.’

Flo pouted in her old fashion. ‘You ain’t gonna be around all the time tellin’ me what to do?’

Lizzie kept a straight face. ‘Oh yes I am. I got it all planned out. It’s yer medicine three times a day, sitting nice and quiet till tea time, then early to bed.’

Flo’s face dropped. ‘Ain’t I allowed out to see me friends?’

Lizzie shook her head.

‘I thought you said I could go back to school for Christmas.’

‘I thought you didn’t like school.’

‘Well I’ve changed me mind, ain’t I?’ Flo said belligerently.

At this, Lizzie couldn’t keep from laughing. ‘That got you going, miss, didn’t it?’

Flo looked cross for a moment, then burst into laughter. Suddenly the door of the front room opened. Lizzie and Flo turned to stare at their father sitting in his wheelchair. He pushed the
wheels forward and moved out into the passage. He looked clean and shaved and his grey hair was neatly combed back from his face. Lizzie couldn’t believe her eyes. She had asked him a dozen
times if she could help him wash and tidy up before Flo came home. Each time he had refused. Now she knew why. He wanted to surprise them – and he had.

The girls stared at him. Slowly he raised his arms to Flo. She fell into them, hugging him gently. Lizzie saw tears in his pale eyes and she guessed there were big ones in Flo’s.

All three of them were silent. Then Flo broke away, sniffing.

‘You look a bit thin, me girl,’ Tom said huskily, taking out a handkerchief and blowing his nose. Lizzie was pleased to see it was one that she had boiled and ironed yesterday for
him.

‘Yeah, well, the food at the ’ome wasn’t like Lizzie’s.’ Flo held on to her father’s hand, her cheeks flushed.

Tom Allen smiled, his gaze going up to his eldest daughter as he said softly, ‘You ain’t ever said a truer thing, Florence Allen. Next to yer mother’s cooking, yer
sister’s is the best you’ll get anywhere.’

Lizzie was so surprised she didn’t know what to say. A lovely warm feeling was melting inside her and she didn’t want the moment to end. By the time she had got her breath back, Tom
was pushing his chair towards the kitchen and Flo was talking ten to the dozen, giving him a running commentary on the time she had spent away.

Then the front door burst open again. Babs hurried in, breathless and panting. ‘Is she home yet?’

Lizzie nodded. ‘She’s just arrived.’

‘The ladies let me come home early,’ Babs gasped, dragging off her coat and flinging it on the stair rail. ‘I got some sherbet dabs in me pocket.’ Delving into her coat,
Babs pulled out a brown paper bag. ‘Can she have ’em?’

‘Course she can,’ Lizzie replied. ‘And I’ve got a cake in the pantry. We’ll have a nice bit of tea. Pa’s in the kitchen too.’

It was Babs’ turn to look surprised. ‘Blimey,’ she grinned, widening her pretty brown eyes. ‘That’s a first, ain’t it?’

Lizzie’s heart was beating very fast as she walked down the passage with Babs. They were on speaking terms again. Flo was safely home and Pa had come out from his room to have tea with
them in the kitchen. Life felt wonderful.

Lizzie couldn’t sleep. She wasn’t used to Flo in the bed again, squeezed between her and Babs. There was less room but the extra warmth was lovely. Lizzie tossed
and turned. Her mind was still whirling. The family was united once more. She hoped it would always be like this. Pa, Babs, Bert, Flo and her all sitting round the table at supper time as Flo
caught up on the news. Only Vinnie had been absent, the family’s fly in the ointment.

Lizzie got out of bed, unable to rest. She pulled her coat over her nightdress and went downstairs. The house was silent, except for Bert’s snoring, which bounced off every wall.

In the kitchen, Lizzie lit the oil lamp. Bill had given it to her as a little perk of the job when she had first started at the shop. It was like one of the lamps off the cart that Frank had lit
the night they came home from hospital in the fog.

Lizzie made herself a cup of tea and sat by the lamp’s warm glow. Her thoughts turned to Danny as they always did at night. Whilst she had been visiting Flo in hospital she had been too
tired to lie awake for long. A picture of Danny’s face would flash up in her mind and she would soon be asleep.

But today, a day of celebration, had left her wide awake, the questions going round and round in her head. Why hadn’t Danny written? Where was he? Why had he broken his promise? Did he
ever think of her? Could he imagine the depth of sadness in her heart? Did he know that she was still waiting for him?

Lizzie sighed as she stared into the flickering shadows of the kitchen. Suddenly there were shapes and figures filling the chairs and reflected on the walls. Ma was sitting in the rocking chair
talking to Granny Watts and Granny Allen, who were perched on the hard wooden seats in their long skirts and shawls. They were all laughing and gossiping about their men and families, every now and
then lowering their voices for the best bit of gossip. Other figures crowded round them, ones Lizzie didn’t recognize but knew were family too, men, women and children who made up the
generations of the Allens and the Wattses.

She felt a deep, tranquil sense of love and security. Her ancestors were there to remind her that life was a drop in a vast ocean.

The figures began to fade, leaving the kitchen quiet and still again. But the feeling of love and peace remained. Lizzie knew that help had come at the time in her life when she most needed
it.

She stood up and extinguished the lamp.

As she went quietly up the stairs, she squared her shoulders. She had to forget about Danny and move on, making the best of everything she had.

1924

‘T
hat lets me out,’ grunted Frank Flowers. He threw down his cards and raised his arms above his head in a long stretch. The room was
filled with smoke; the gambling, drinking and philandering that had gone on in the airey over the Friday night and into the early hours of Saturday had made the air pungent. With his shirtsleeves
rolled up and collar removed, Frank scratched the top of his chest. The blond, bristly stubble on his chin had formed into a light beard, unlike that of the man sitting next to him.

The gypsy’s dark hair was greased and combed away from his narrow face. Yawning loudly, Mik Ferreter grinned slowly through uneven teeth. ‘Well, Frankie boy, I’m gonna have to
clean you out. No wonder your old man don’t trust you with the takings. You’ve given it all to me.’

‘You ain’t kidding, Mik.’ Frank laughed nervously. ‘It’d pay me to stick to Lena – a whole night with her is a damn sight cheaper than a round of poker with
you.’

‘Yeah, well, no one comes cheaper than Lena,’ muttered Vinnie, who sat on Frank’s other side, his elbows resting on the table. His braces hung loosely round his hips as he
leaned forward on his chair. A dark blue Homburg was tilted over his forehead and a cigarette dangled from his lips.

Vinnie was getting on Frank’s nerves. In fact, Ferreter was too. The luck that had won the bookie the pot on the table was highly suspect, but Frank kept his mouth shut. Ferreter
didn’t play by the rules. He made them up as he went along.

‘Lena ain’t a bad looker,’ Frank said in mild defence of the woman who had spent the night in his bed.

Vinnie laughed. ‘Yeah, but only if you’re desperate.’

If that little toerag pushes his luck much further . . . thought Frank angrily, then told himself to calm down. Vinnie was baiting him. He wanted a reaction. Well he wasn’t going to get
one.

Vinnie nodded to the bedroom, which had not long been vacated. ‘Gave her a right good seeing to, did you, Frankie? Let her know who was boss?’

Frank swigged his beer. ‘Yeah, well, why not? Might as well enjoy me last days of being single.’

The bookie threw his head back and laughed. ‘Now that takes the biscuit, that does.’

‘What do you mean?’ Frank bristled.

‘You ain’t gonna be any different when you’re hitched, you randy old sod,’ said Mik Ferreter gruffly. ‘You ain’t stopped taking your Johnny out since
I’ve known you. Hardly likely to keep it in there just ’cos you’ve got a ring on yer finger.’

Frank regarded this as flattery. He grinned. ‘Nah, I’m gonna turn over a new leaf. You see if I don’t. Anyway, I got me girl’s big brother over there to keep an eye out
for me.’

The bookie sneered. ‘He can’t keep an eye out for himself, let alone you.’

Vinnie’s close-set eyes slid towards Ferreter. Frank felt a wave of satisfaction. Vinnie had sold his soul to the devil years ago, but Ferreter treated him with no greater respect.

‘Dunno about that,’ Vinnie objected in a surly voice. ‘I ain’t done so badly for meself.’

Ferreter’s eyes flashed. ‘Oh yeah? Is that a fact, now?’

‘I mean, I ain’t in a lot of shit,’ Vinnie corrected himself quickly, ‘not like I used to be.’

‘And who got you out of the shit?’ The black-eyed gypsy tilted his head, his dark eyes menacing.

‘Well, course . . . you did, boss.’ A hush fell on the room. Frank was glad he wasn’t in Vinnie’s shoes. ‘It’s all down to you, boss, all me luck, everything
what you done for me,’ Vinnie spluttered.

‘Say it again, Vincent. Louder this time.’

Vinnie licked his dry lips. ‘I owe it all to you, boss. Everything. I owe it all to you.’

‘Put money in yer pocket and clothes on yer back, did I?’

Vinnie was sweating, the beads of fearful moisture standing out on his brow. ‘You’ve always seen me right, Mik.’

‘And kept the law off yer back. And paid all yer fines.’

‘That too . . . that too.’ Vinnie nodded hard.

Frank smiled to himself. Vinnie had got too big for his boots, ever since he took over the house in Poplar. Not that a whore house was much of a feather in anyone’s cap. All Vinnie had to
do was set up a few girls and half a dozen games of poker each week. Poker and tarts – well, even Vinnie couldn’t go far wrong with that.

Ferreter narrowed his eyes. He paused, his tongue flicking out to curve slowly round his thin lips. ‘And o’ course, there was that job a few years back. I hear the Old Bill is still
looking for the bloke who done over that poor sod – night watchman, wasn’t it? A jeweller’s up West?’

Frank turned to stare at Vinnie. Now
this
was interesting.