Lizzie of Langley Street (26 page)

‘Well, it’s true ain’t it?’ Flo cried as tears plopped over her lashes.

‘It’s no concern of yours what time Frank comes home,’ Lizzie snapped. ‘Now get dressed.’

‘Bet you don’t know where he is, though.’ Flo’s tears had vanished.

‘And neither do you, so don’t start.’

‘You don’t want me to enjoy myself. You hate my friends.’

‘I don’t like one or two. And you know who they are.’

‘Sydney Miller’s all right. He isn’t a bit like what you think.’ Flo’s cheeks were red. ‘He ain’t a hooligan like everyone says, he’s
a—’

Lizzie’s mouth fell open. ‘So you are seeing him, then?’

Flo’s expression was defiant.

‘He tried to set fire to the school, Flo.’

‘It wasn’t him, it was someone else,’ cried Flo indignantly.

‘And how would you know?’ Lizzie demanded. ‘I’ve forbidden you to see him.’

‘He ain’t no worse than Frank! He ain’t done half what Frank’s done!’

Lizzie swallowed hard. ‘Don’t talk rubbish—’

‘It ain’t rubbish, it’s true. He walloped you the other night. And don’t say he didn’t, ’cos I heard everythin’.’

‘Flo—’

‘And it ain’t the first time neither,’ Flo spluttered. ‘I hate him!’ Flo was shaking, her white flanelette nightdress clutched in her hands.

Lizzie walked round the table. She wanted to put her arms round Flo and tell her everything was all right. But everything wasn’t all right and Flo knew that. She must have heard all that
had gone on when Frank came home drunk. Nothing that Lizzie had been able to do or say had prevented the quarrels. She couldn’t lie to Flo. Instead she said quietly, ‘Flo, listen to me.
Frank has provided us with a home, food in our stomachs and decent clothes. We want for nothing. You go to school dressed properly in a uniform, unlike some of your friends. Yet you mix with the
likes of Sydney Miller—’

‘Now I know why Babs left home,’ Flo yelled. ‘You drove her out, that’s what you did. You turned into a right bossy cow after Ma died. Babs couldn’t stand it and
neither can I.’

‘Stop it.’ Lizzie wasn’t going to let Flo see how much her accusations had hurt. ‘You’re growing up and there are rules to obey. Ma would have told you the same.
Sydney Miller is trouble.’

‘Vinnie says he ain’t,’ burst out Flo, her tone defiant.

Lizzie stared into Flo’s face. ‘Vinnie? When did he say that?’

‘I dunno. I can’t remember. But he said it.’

‘When did you see him?’

‘It . . . it was one day – on the street . . .’

‘You didn’t tell me.’

‘Why should I?’ Flo turned away, but Lizzie pulled her back.

‘When did you see Vinnie?’ she demanded.

‘You don’t understand,’ Flo sobbed miserably. ‘But Vinnie does.’

‘All right, I don’t understand.’ Lizzie was loosing patience. ‘Now, are you going to tell me the truth?’

‘I went up his house – a real nice one in Poplar,’ Flo admitted spitefully. ‘He took me there. He said I could take Sydney too.’

‘You mean that bookie’s place?’ She couldn’t believe it. Flo had gone inside a brothel. ‘Flo, don’t you know what kind of house that is?’

‘Our Vin and Babs live there,’ Flo hurled at her. ‘Me brother and me sister. And they don’t treat me like a kid, neither.’

‘I don’t want you going there again.’

Tears of frustration slid down Flo’s cheeks. She ran out of the kitchen and the bedroom door slammed.

Lizzie sank down at the table. Flo – at the house in Poplar! She closed her eyes, trying to block out the thought. How could she stop Flo going there?

For the first time she felt a real dislike for her brother and sister. The determination she had always had to hold the family together was now gone; it was Flo who mattered – whom she
must protect. Vinnie and Babs had gone their own way.

Lil Sharpe stood in the shop with her shopping bag open, four fruit cakes inside it. ‘How many do you want?’ she asked Lizzie, lifting them out one by one on to the
counter.

The Saturday morning frenzy was over. Boxes of fresh fruit and vegetables had been rummaged over, bargained for and nearly all sold. Bert was sorting the remainder. His big hands turned over the
apples and pears, the cauliflowers and cabbages, dropping the damaged ones into a box at his feet for halfpenny bundles.

Lil’s homemade cakes were always popular. Together with the brandy balls and toffee apples, they were displayed in the glass-fronted cabinet at the back of the shop.

‘I’ll take all four, Lil.’ Lizzie inspected the cakes, which were carefully wrapped in greased paper. ‘Can’t seem to get enough of these fruit ones.’

‘You’re welcome, gel. How much are you charging for each slice?’ Lil’s frown was speculative.

‘Tuppence. I keep the prices down. The kids can buy chocolate bars at a penny from the sweet shop up Manchester Road. But you get more with the cake.’

Lil chuckled. ‘There ain’t no flies on you, Lizzie Allen.’

‘Nor on the stock!’ Lizzie laughed.

‘Lizzie, I was thinking of sponges. They’d go off quicker with cream. But jam ones would be all right, wouldn’t they?’

‘Make one and we’ll try it out.’

‘How big?’’

‘The same size as the fruit cakes. I’ll get twelve good slices out of it.’

‘Done,’ said Lil as she closed her bag. ‘Business good?’

‘Got nothing to complain about, Lil.’ Lizzie set the cakes on big white china plates. She cut each one into triangles of twelve. As the fruit fell out, they scooped up the left overs
with the tips of their fingers and ate them.

‘You’d better put the price up, gel,’ Lil said, smacking her lips. ‘Though I say it meself, tuppence is too cheap.’

Lizzie placed the cakes on the shelves. ‘I want the customers coming in regular first. Then I’ll add a bit on. Now, how much do I owe you?’

Lil’s eyes grew wide in mock horror. ‘You ain’t gonna chisel me down again, are you?’

They both laughed until Lizzie wiped her eyes on the corner of her apron. ‘Lil, would I do that?’

Lil’s husky laughter crackled in her throat. ‘You probably will one day. But I don’t blame you. You’ve got a business head, I’ll give you that. No one can beat your
prices. Lil glanced around the shop, at the shining windows and decorated boxes of fruit. ‘You’ve turned this place round, gel, there’s no denying it.’

Lizzie took three silver coins from the till. Lil grabbed them with a wink and tipped them in her purse. ‘Ta, love.’

‘I’d like to sell more lines,’ Lizzie murmured as she removed her apron, hanging it on the hook behind the door. ‘More confectionery. Sweets are popular. They don’t
go off like the fruit and veg. But I can’t do it all, not unless I find another shop.’

‘Blimey, that’s a bit ambitious, ain’t it?’ Lil looked impressed.

‘Maybe. But not impossible.’

‘I said to Doug you’d go far.’

Now it was Lizzie’s turn to laugh. ‘As far as Ebondale Street!’

‘Gertie still running the barra?’ Lil asked curiously.

Lizzie nodded. ‘Bill drops off the chestnuts and lights up the brazier on his way back from Spitalfields. Gertie loves it.’

‘Well, I hope me cakes go as well. It’s a real little earner for me,’ Lil confessed. She seemed hesitant to leave. ‘You coming over to Langley Street tomorrow?’

Lizzie frowned. ‘Yes. Why?’

‘Oh, nothing.’ Lil sighed, her shoulders drooping. ‘Don’t suppose you’ve seen your Vinnie lately?’

Lizzie wondered how many more times Vinnie’s name was going to be mentioned this morning. ‘No. But Flo has.’ Reluctantly she added, ‘She went up the house in
Poplar.’

‘What? Without telling you?’

‘Lil, what were you going to say?’ Lizzie didn’t want to talk about the brothel. Lil would only make her feel worse.

Lil paused. ‘Vinnie’s been at your house—’

‘At number eighty-two?’ Lizzie yelped.

‘Calm down, now, love. I knew you’d be upset.’

‘What did he want?’ Lizzie felt her stomach churn.

‘Ain’t Bert said nothing?’

‘No. Not a word lately. I’ve been worried about him. He’s, well, not shaving or washing. I don’t know why.’ Lizzie glanced at Bert outside the shop, looking the
worse for wear.

‘Well it ain’t my place to say, really—’

‘What,
Lil?’

Lil lifted her hands to the scarf that was loosely folded round her neck. ‘For the last couple of weeks your Pa has been in with us. A couple of Vinnie’s, er, friends has been
staying at the house.’

‘What?’ Lizzie screamed. ‘Why didn’t you tell me?’

‘Keep yer hair on,’ Lil said, glancing at the queue. ‘We don’t want half the neighbourhood knowing do we?’

‘Oh, Lil, why didn’t you say about the blokes before?’ Lizzie had begged her father to move to Ebondale Street, but he had stubbornly refused. Bert said he didn’t want to
come either. She knew something would happen to them if she left them on their own. Now it had.

Lil’s brown eyes travelled up slowly. ‘They ain’t blokes, love, they’re women.’

‘Women?’ Lizzie stared at Lil.

‘One of them is that Lena person, the tart that caused trouble at your wedding. She’s bedded in your room at the back. The other bit of skirt’s livin’ in Bert and
Vinnie’s room by the looks of it. Gawd knows where Bert’s disappeared to. I ain’t seen him there at all. I think this cow must have kicked him out, because she hangs out of his
window all day smoking fags. And she’s . . . she’s . . . well, she ain’t dressed in nothing proper, that’s for sure.’

Lizzie’s hand went over her mouth. ‘How can this have happened, Lil? What’s going on? I should never have left. I knew something awful would happen if I did.’

‘’Ere, don’t let me hear you talking like that. You had the chance of getting married and you took it.’

Lizzie saw that Lil was watching her. ‘I just meant I was feeling bad about leaving Pa and Bert.’

‘Well, Bert is twenty-four, love.’

‘Yeah, but he’s like a big kid.’

‘You never know, it might be all right. The house might be empty tomorrow. Doug said you would never have to know if I didn’t open me gob. But I was afraid someone like Vi would come
in the shop and blab it all out. And you’d think why ain’t Lil told me? And it would be an even bigger shock for you then. And we might fall out, ’cos you know how these things
happen . . .’ Lil took a deep breath, her lips twitching as she sighed. ‘At least you know I ain’t kept you in the dark. I didn’t mean to upset you.’

‘You haven’t, Lil. But me temper is a bit short today.’

‘See you tomorrow then?’

Lizzie nodded.

‘Your dad will be in with us, don’t forget,’ Lil told her as she gathered her bags together. ‘We’ve got him on the mattress in the front room.’

‘Oh, Lil, what a mess this all is!’

‘It ain’t no trouble for us, love. But there’s none more sorry than me – for you.’ Lil sighed again as she tucked the handles of her big bag over her arm and
left.

‘I thought marrying Frank was for the best,’ Lizzie whispered to herself as she watched Lil’s thin figure hurry down the road. She looked about her, at the once dilapidated
shop that she had built up into a thriving business. Success had come at a high price. A price she had been willing to pay.

B
enji plodded towards the kerb and Bert drew in the reigns. Number eighty-two looked much the same. The front door was shut and the windows were
closed, the lace curtains drawn across them.

The street was deserted. The men were in the pubs and their women busy cooking Sunday dinner. Lizzie had a plan: if she couldn’t gain entrance, she would call the police. Bert had objected
to this during their quarrel last night. It was their first real quarrel in years and neither of them had recovered from it. They sat stiffly beside one another on the cart. Was Bert right in
suggesting they wait, Lizzie wondered?

Wiping his forehead with a grubby cloth, Bert eased the rim of his cap from his head. ‘Probably down the boozer,’ he muttered.

‘All the more reason to go in.’

‘The front door’s shut. There ain’t no key on the string now. I tried it the other night. Someone must’ve took it off’

‘I’ve got me spare key,’ Lizzie said determinedly. ‘You’d better move the cart up a bit, Bert, because you’ll be seeing that top window open shortly and
whatever I find in our house that don’t belong there, it’s shooting right out of it.’

‘Aw, Lizzie, you’ll only cause more trouble.’

‘It’s them that’s caused the trouble, not me.’ She lowered her legs and slid to the pavement, firmly brushing down her coat.

Bert jumped down beside her. ‘I reckon you should see Vin first.’

‘What good would that do?’ She looked at her brother and sighed. ‘Vin moved them in here. And I’m moving them out.’

Bert lowered his eyes. ‘I wish you’d wait a bit, gel, that’s all.’

‘For how long? It’s our house, Bert. Whatever were you thinking of, to be driven out of it by strangers.’

He looked at her sadly, his great head drooping. ‘They . . . they said things about me. So I went down Island Gardens and slept on a bench. Me mind was all confused. Then they took away
the string and wouldn’t let me in.’

‘And you came into the shop each day, not saying a word?’ Lizzie stared up at her brother.

‘I didn’t want no trouble.’

‘So you keep telling me. Well, we’ve got trouble whether we want it or not.’ She squared her shoulders. ‘Now, are you coming?’

Bert nodded gloomily.

Lizzie nodded at Lil’s house. ‘We’d better tell Lil we’ve arrived.’

Lil’s door was on the latch. They walked into the passage. An aspidistra filled the space under the stairs. In number eighty-two there was a cupboard in the same place. A narrow carpet
with a triangular design of mustard and black ran down the hallway, and shiny brown linoleum covered the boards. By comparison to their house it was a palace.

‘Lil?’ Lizzie shouted.

In the front room a striped mattress was rolled up and pushed behind the gateleg table. Light shone through Lil’s white Nottingham lace curtains and reflected on the couch. It was a
surprise not to see Doug there. He always read his newspaper on Sunday morning as the dinner was cooking.

‘No one’s in,’ Bert grunted.