Tiger Bay Blues (16 page)

‘This is our patch!’ the girl shouted.

Edyth summoned all her courage. ‘This is a public street.’

‘It’s ours.’ The woman thumped Edyth painfully in the chest.

‘I want to go in the church –’

‘Tell us a story, why don’t you?’ The girl lifted her hand and slapped Edyth soundly across the face. Her head jerked back and hit the railings. The crack of her skull resounded in the darkened street.

Dazed and disorientated, Edyth tried to regain her balance, but the women gathered around her, pulling her hair and slapping and kicking her.

She opened her mouth to scream but the only sound she could make was a barely audible squeak. If it hadn’t been for the pain, she might have believed herself locked into a nightmare.

Jed King left Judy and his wife in the front parlour where his mother lay, finally still and peaceful. The doctor had warned them four hours ago that death was imminent, and he was finding the waiting an intolerable strain. He went into the back kitchen in search of tea. Not because he, Judy or his wife wanted any, but because he felt that he would go mad if he didn’t do something.

The room was full of family and neighbours, who had gathered silently and respectfully to honour his mother. He stood in the doorway and reflected that no one was allowed privacy in Tiger Bay. As babies they were born into houses crowded with well-wishers eager to catch the first glimpse of the newest arrival and press silver into their tiny hands ‘for luck’. And they drew their last breath surrounded by people anxious to ease their passing and comfort those left behind.

But there was one man, slumped, snoring and drunk, in his mother’s easy chair next to the range, who had no place in the house. Or indeed Tiger Bay. Jed wanted him out – now. He walked over to the chair and hauled him upright by his collar.

Joshua Hamilton woke with a start and glared balefully at Jed through pink-rimmed eyes. ‘What the hell do you think you’re doing, Jed?’ he demanded.

‘Throwing you out of my mother’s house, which is what I should have done when you had the nerve to show your face back here.’

‘Judy needs me.’

‘Your daughter needed you eighteen years ago when you walked out on her after her mother died.’

‘I love her,’ Joshua protested.

‘Which is why you came to see her every time you were ashore, and sent my mother money to keep her all these years – I don’t think?’ Jed mocked scornfully.

‘Jed, you were a seaman,’ Joshua whined. ‘You know what it’s like to go from ship’s berth to ship’s berth, country to country. It’s not my fault it’s taken me years to work my passage back to Cardiff. I came as soon as I could.’

‘Destitute, broke and drunk. And you didn’t even have the common courtesy to go to the doss house. Instead you came here to sponge off the flesh and blood you would have dumped in the workhouse if my mother hadn’t taken her in.’

‘Jed?’ His wife opened the door. ‘Your mother and Judy can hear the shouting,’ she whispered.

‘Don’t worry, it’s about to stop.’ Jed clamped his hand over Joshua’s mouth and nodded to Tony and Ron. The three brothers lifted Joshua between them and carried him out of the house and down the street. They dropped him a hundred yards from the front door.

Fuming, Jed clambered to his feet. ‘I’ve a right to see my daughter.’

‘But not to stay in my mother’s house or pawn her belongings. You think my brothers and I are stupid?’ Jed challenged. ‘Didn’t you realise that we would miss the china dogs that have stood in her fireplace for years?’

Joshua tossed out one last desperate lie. ‘Judy asked me to hock them. She said she needed the money for medicine.’

‘It was Judy who noticed they were missing,’ Jed growled. ‘Sober or drunk, don’t come back, Joshua. Not if you want to live to a ripe old age.’

‘Stay away, if you know what’s good for you,’ Tony shouted as Joshua shambled off.

The anger that sustained Jed was replaced by an overwhelming tide of grief. He put his hands on his brothers’ shoulders. ‘Now that we’ve put out the rubbish, let’s go back and say goodbye to Mam.’

Born accident-prone, Edyth had broken both her legs, arms and skull at various times when she was growing up. She’d fallen off horses, down stairs, out of trees and, on one spectacular occasion, from the roof of her Uncle Victor’s barn. But every injury had been self-inflicted and accidental. No one had ever hit her in anger and, for the first few moments of the attack, she simply couldn’t believe it was actually happening.

She came to her senses when she heard the sound of her hair being torn out by the roots. She dropped her overnight case and handbag, lifted her arms over her head and tried to protect herself. After two barely audible croaks, she finally found her voice and screamed loudly, in the hope that someone would hear and help her. But her cries only resulted in the women intensifying their attack. Covering as much of her head and face as she could with her hands, she tried to escape. But no sooner did she elbow one woman out of the way and gain an inch of ground, than another closed in.

Fingers padlocked around her wrists and forced her downwards. She was hemmed in by a forest of bare legs and feet encased in high-heeled shoes. The kicking started the moment her knees hit the pavement, the toes and heels of the women’s evening shoes connecting with her back, arms and thighs. Curled into the foetal position, she breathed in the sour stench of the women’s sweat and smelled their breath, a rank mixture of beer, whisky and undigested food, the whole permeated by a mix of sickly sweet, cheap scent.

The sharp sound of cloth tearing rent the air. To her horror, she realised they were stripping her frock from her. She made one last valiant effort to free her wrists. When that failed, she lowered her head, sank her teeth into the nearest hand and bit down with all her strength.

A woman yelped and sprang back, tearing her dress even more. Edyth took full advantage of the momentary diversion, lifted her head and screamed with all her might. Even her blood ran cold, as her cry echoed hollowly down the street.

Her neck bones cricked when her head was yanked back by her hair. She stared up at the stars and full, bright moon. A hand closed into a fist in front of her eyes and pulled back in preparation to slam into her unprotected face. But miraculously it froze in mid-air.

‘What you doing, Anna girl?’ a man asked in a Caribbean accent. ‘You don’ want to kill no sister goodtime girl, now do you?’

‘Let me go, Sam.’ The red-headed woman rounded soundly on the speaker, slapping his face with her free hand.

Edyth took advantage of the diversion and gasped for breath. For the first time she was conscious of hot, sticky blood running down her face and arms. She retched, but there was nothing in her stomach to vomit. A draught blew across her bare skin and she retched again.

An Irish woman cried out, ‘Watch your frocks, girls, she’s throwing up.’

The rest of the women stepped away from her. Edyth felt herself slipping into unconsciousness. It would be so easy to lie down on the pavement and close her eyes … She moved her hand in front of her face, and fought with what little strength remained to keep alert.

More shadowy figures materialised, merging with those of the women around her. There was a hubbub of angry conversation. A strongly muscled, bare black arm reached down to her.

‘Come on, love, the pavement’s no place for a young girl to sleep. That’s it, ups-a-daisy, on your feet. Can you stand?’

Too shocked to think, let alone answer, she wrapped her arms around her rescuer’s chest and clung to him.

‘You all right, miss?’

Edyth stared blankly up into the face of a black man, who was looking down at her in concern.

‘Here, miss, tie your dress together.’ A handkerchief was pushed into her hand. She took it, but the dark mist continued to veil her eyes and she saw only segments of the scene around her, as though she were trapped inside a telescope.

Nailed boots rang out and a strong masculine voice rose above the hubbub. ‘What’s going on here?’

‘New girl’s working our patch, Murphy,’ the red-head yelled angrily.

A wit shouted, ‘The lady doesn’t want to play with Anna and the girls, constable. And we don’t think they should try to make her.’ A burst of laughter followed the quip.

‘They were slapping her around.’

‘If we hadn’t come along and stopped them, you’d have had a murder on your hands, copper.’

Constable Murphy stood in Edyth’s line of vision and pushed his helmet to the back of his head. ‘That’s what I like to see, boys, public-spirited locals. I won’t forget to tell the sergeant about your good deed.’ He lifted his hand to his mouth and the piercing sound of a police whistle brought the thunder of more hobnailed boots. A dozen or more officers appeared. They turned to Edyth, who was still being held upright by the black man.

‘Anna’s been beating up a new girl,’ Murphy shouted to his colleagues.

‘Grab as many as you can, coppers,’ one of the Negroes shouted, as the police ran around trying to round up the women, who were now charging off in different directions.

‘They’re slippery as eels and sting like wasps, especially in your wallet,’ another yelled.

The crowd of men stood back, laughing and jeering, as the police officers continued to chase the women. Too quick for the constables, who were hampered by their thick uniforms and truncheons, most disappeared up dark alleyways. But a few fell prey. And every time one was caught, she screamed, reminding Edyth of the noise her Uncle Victor’s pigs made at farrowing time.

‘Here, miss.’ The man who was holding her helped her back to the railings, but he continued to support her until the bizarre chase was over.

‘I’d say you lost about three-quarters of them, coppers,’ a cheery voice shouted from the crowd of onlookers.

‘Jones, go down the station and get the Black Maria out. I’d say we’ve found a full night’s work for the desk clerk,’ Murphy ordered a handsome, fair-haired policeman, who looked considerably younger than his colleagues.

‘Serve bloody Pugh right for organising himself a cushy number,’ another officer grumbled.

Holding the red-head called Anna in an arm-lock, Murphy turned to the crowd. ‘We’ll take it from here, boys. Thanks for your help.’

‘Night, officers.’ The men disappeared into the darkness between the lamps.

‘The bitch was working our patch.’ Anna kicked, clawed and bit Murphy, who was only just managing to hold her.

‘Lay off, Anna,’ he warned irritably, ‘or you’ll be facing a charge of grievous bodily harm as well as affray.’

‘The bitch –’

‘We take a dim view of murder, even of bitches, Anna, and there’s nothing to indicate the lady is one,’ another constable remarked, somewhat placidly given the circumstances.

Edyth wondered if someone had switched off the street lamp. Then it went on again. Then off. She continued to stare at the place where it had been. A shadow lifted and she realised the light hadn’t gone out at all. It was simply the officers who were struggling to hold her attackers, moving and blocking the lamp from her view.

‘You all right now, miss?’ the man who was holding her asked.

She nodded, but when he released her, the street whirled around her. She grabbed the railings for support. Confused, feeling as though the women were still pulling her hair, she lifted her fingers to check, although she knew they couldn’t possibly still be tugging at it. Her bodice flapped open and she grabbed the torn edges, holding them together with the handkerchief. Using it as cover, she pulled her bust-shaper back into position and gulped in air.

‘You really all right, miss?’ Murphy handed Anna over to another officer and handcuffed their wrists together.

She croaked, ‘Yes.’ Looking around, she saw that the man who had helped her had left. She was alone with the police officers and her assailants. Constables were fastening handcuffs to the other women’s wrists but as she looked at them she realised they’d only caught four. At least a dozen had attacked her.

She swayed and Constable Murphy grabbed her arm. ‘Don’t go wandering off, miss. Not until I find out what’s been going on here.’

‘They attacked me,’ Edyth murmured.

‘Anna said you were working their patch. Were you?’ Murphy demanded.

She looked at him in confusion. ‘Patch? I don’t understand …’

‘Course she bloody understands, the bitch,’ Anna shouted. ‘Times are hard enough without bloody amateurs muscling in on our territory and taking our customers. We work hard –’

‘Course you do, Anna,’ yawned the constable who was cuffed to her.

‘Here we go,’ another said when the Black Maria pulled up alongside them in the street. ‘A carriage for the hard-working madams.’

‘She tried to steal from us …’ Anna had to be dragged, still kicking, into the back of the police van.

‘That didn’t give you and the girls the right to try and kill her, Anna,’ Murphy called out. He turned his attention to Edyth. ‘Now, young lady.’ He pulled her around in front of him. ‘Perhaps you’d like to explain what you’re doing out here half-naked in the middle of the night?’

‘I was waiting for someone,’ she mumbled.

‘At half-past one in the morning?’

‘Yes.’ She suddenly realised just how ridiculous that sounded.

‘And who exactly were you waiting for?’ he persisted.

Shocked, upset and in pain, Edyth still had enough sense to know that she couldn’t mention Peter. How would it look to the Bishop if he ever discovered that the future wife of the vicar of Tiger Bay had been mistaken for a streetwalker by a group of common prostitutes, and beaten up by them because they thought she was trying to take over their territory?

‘I thought so,’ Murphy drawled. ‘You don’t know the name of your friend because you haven’t met him yet.’

‘I travelled down here this evening from Swansea. The train was delayed. You can check if you don’t believe me. The half past eight was held up by the derailment of a goods train outside Bridgend. If it hadn’t been, I would have been here much earlier. As it was, I didn’t arrive in Tiger Bay until after midnight. My friend was out. I decided to wait for him.’

‘On Anna’s territory.’ Murphy whistled. ‘Now that
was
a silly thing to do, miss.’