The Street

Tilly loved Jack and she knew he loved her. She knew she did things she shouldn’t. She said things she shouldn’t. And as for that temper of hers . . . it was a bitter consolation reminding herself that he was far from perfect. If he’d taken on that job for Mr Keane it would have seen them straight for several weeks. He’d let his blooming pride get in the way of a bit of decent grub on the table.

With a savagery born of frustration Tilly hammered loudly on a door. She got no response to that so, after a moment or two, made to walk in unannounced. The door was locked. ‘You in, Fran?’ She rattled the handle. Still no one came to open it so she gave the panels another thump. ‘Fran? Jimmy? Anyone home?’

‘Saw him go out,’ a voice behind Tilly informed her.

Tilly turned to see Mr Prewett locking his door. He had the room in front of her sister Fran’s. Tucking his walking stick beneath his arm he began to limp down the stairs. He hopped down a step at a time with the aid of a rickety banister that seemed to hang in space. Over time the spindles had been prised free and used as firewood by tenants desperate to keep warm. ‘Surprised I was, I can tell you, to see either of ’em walkin’ after the bleeding commotion coming out of there last night.’ Having made his complaint, Mr Prewett hopped down another tread.

‘They was at it last night?’ Tilly demanded, frowning down at the top of his shiny head.

‘Thought the whole road must’ve known what went on, the row they was making.’ Bill Prewett settled himself firmly on one foot and looked up at her. ‘Banged on their door meself, I did. You gorn deaf or summat?’

‘I was out for a while . . .’ Tilly explained.

‘Oh . . . out, was yer?’

The knowing tone made Tilly itch to run down and slap his smug face for him. She knew that it was common knowledge around here that she liked a drink. So what? So did most people struggling to survive in this shit hole.

‘Anyoldhow,’ Bill went on quickly, having recognised the dangerous glint in Tilly’s eyes, ‘I saw Jimmy slope off around seven this morning. He looked alright, as far as I could tell, but that don’t mean nuthin’.’ With that he eased himself forward and carried on his slow descent of the stairs.

Tilly turned back to the locked door and renewed her efforts with both hands. Her concern for her younger sister’s welfare had put a fire in her belly. ‘Fran? Open the door if you’re in there.’ Her fists were raised to recommence the assault when her sister finally opened the door a crack. ‘Let me in, you silly cow.’

‘Only if you promise not to go mad and start shouting. Me head’s fit to explode as it is.’

Tilly gave an impatient sigh and shoved past Fran into a room as dingy and depressing as the one she’d just left on the floor above. She turned about and gave her sister’s appearance a thorough inspection. Her back teeth began to grind but she fought down her anger and simply continued to stare at the sorry sight before her. The light was poor but even so Tilly could see blood spatters on Fran’s blouse and her bruised and battered face. Calmly she asked, ‘What the fuck started him off this time?’

‘He’s a bastard.’

‘Yeah, I know that.’ Tilly waited, hoping to hear a better explanation for Jimmy’s savagery. None was forthcoming. ‘Look at the state of you, fer Gawd’s sake,’ she burst out. ‘Didn’t you try and belt him back?’

‘Just makes him worse.’ Fran grimaced in pain. ‘Besides, me arms hurt too much. Felt as though he’d twisted them out of their sockets. He had them right up behind me back.’ She tried to ease her shoulders but even small movements made her gasp. ‘I’ll get him one o’ these days,’ she vowed shakily. ‘I’ll creep up on him with a knife when he ain’t expecting it. You see if I don’t.’ Her bravado flagged and she slumped against the wall. ‘We’re finished this time, in any case.’

‘You said that last time.’

‘Now I mean it ’cos he’s give me no wages in over a week. I know where the money’s gone, too. I know for sure he’s got a fancy piece.’

‘You said you was finished last time when you found out he had a fancy piece,’ Tilly reminded her a mite too sarcastically.

‘It’s alright for you,’ Fran shrieked, stretching her cut lips. ‘We ain’t all lucky enough to have a decent man like Jack.’ Gingerly she raised her fingers to her face as she felt the warm wetness on her chin. ‘Me mouth’s started to bleed again,’ she wailed and bent her head to a cuff to staunch the flow.

‘Where’s the boys?’ Tilly asked after her two young nephews.

‘Got them off to school somehow. Bobbie’s gone off bawling fit to burst. Stevie’s wet the bed. I gotta get that cleaned up before Jimmy turns up. If he finds out he’ll give him such a hiding.’

‘I’ll change the sheet,’ Tilly promised. ‘And if Jimmy turns up, I’ll see to him too,’ she vowed grimly. ‘First, let’s see to you.’

‘I’m alright,’ Fran muttered and again brought her cuff up to her face. ‘Nothing I ain’t dealt with before.’

‘Come upstairs.’ Tilly got hold of her sister’s arm but, hearing Fran cry out in pain, she instead slipped a hand about her waist. ‘Come on,’ she urged and tugged her gently towards the door. ‘Let’s get some tea on the go and we’ll sort it out.’

‘I reckon he’s got a woman round here this time. That’s where he’s spending his money.’ Fran dipped her head to hide her weeping eyes.

‘We’ll sort it out,’ Tilly repeated firmly. She opened the door and propelled her sister out onto the landing.

Alice and Bethany were sharing the job of wiping the crockery dry and stacking it on the battered old dining table. Sophy had said she’d done her stint washing up yesterday and had got going to school. When their mother reappeared with Fran in tow both girls stopped what they were doing to gawp at the state of their aunt’s face. One of her eyes was puffed to a slit, her lips looked gigantic and her jaw was red and grazed from chin to ear. She greeted her nieces quite jovially even though her eyes were suspiciously wet.

‘You two still here? Bobbie ‘n’ Stevie been gone to school a quarter of an hour or more. You’ll be late, y’know.’

Having heard their cousins had already left, the girls looked at one another. It was not unheard of to get a blackboard rubber aimed at your head by Rotten Rogers if you were last in for registration.

‘We’re just going,’ Alice said and dropped the towel she’d been using to dry up. Bethany followed suit.

Both girls knew that big trouble was afoot, and the two women would want to discuss in private a plan of how to put right whatever had now gone wrong between Aunt Fran and Uncle Jimmy.

‘Where’s Sophy?’

‘Gone to school,’ the sisters chorused in reply.

Moments later Tilly surprised them by saying, ‘You’ll have to stop home.’ She caught one of Alice’s elbows in a strong grip. ‘You get going.’ Tilly tipped her head at the door indicating that Bethany should immediately use it.

With a quick, sympathetic look at her sister Bethany did as she was bid. School was a pain, but at least you could have a laugh with friends on the way there and back. Staying home and caring for Lucy was, to Bethany’s mind, utterly boring. And she knew that was why Alice was being kept off school.

‘Do I have to, Mum?’ Alice asked plaintively. Usually when they had women’s talk they liked to be alone. But there had been one other time Alice had been kept home to act as nursemaid to Bethany when Aunt Fran had problems; it had been years ago before Lucy had been born. On that particular day the whole house had seemed to shake with the commotion that’d gone on.

Uncle Jimmy and her dad had come to blows because Jimmy had accused Tilly of poking her nose in his business. Naturally, her dad had backed her mum although Alice had sensed he thought Jimmy had a point.

Alice was glad her dad had gone out now. At least he would be spared any nastiness that might occur if Jimmy turned up hollering for his missus as he had last time. Not that her mum was unable to stick up for herself. She’d witnessed her fighting in the street with men and women. She’d seen her put a poker over the head of Bart Walsh when he’d refused to pay his rent and had spat at her. Her mum had looked big as a house on that occasion. It’d been only a day or so after that Lucy had been born.

‘Yeah, you do have to stay home today,’ Tilly told Alice. ‘Me ‘n’ your aunt Fran have got to go out a bit later and you’ve got to take care of Lucy ’cos we can’t drag her round with us.’ Tilly sweetened the dictate with a promise. ‘Tell yer what, Al; if you’re a good gel I’ll get you some chips dinnertime. There, how’s that?’

Alice gave a faint smile. In fact it was a nice bribe. They’d had very little to eat yesterday. Dinner had been bread and a scrape of jam. There’d been no jam left for this morning and a slab each of bread with the mould cut off the crust had been their breakfast.

‘I’ve got a couple o’ coppers for you too,’ Aunt Fran said and attempted a smile. The small movement made her wince and moan and hold her jaw.

Alice knew things must be serious if she was getting treats. She didn’t know where her mum and Aunt Fran were heading but guessed it would be to locate Uncle Jimmy. A dingdong was sure to ensue. Alice went to the bed and looked down at Lucy. The baby was gurgling quite con tentedly, her thin legs kicking energetically. Alice gave her little sister a tickle then put a finger onto one of her curled palms. Immediately Lucy gripped it, still giving her a gummy smile. Soon the baby would want a feed and become fractious and her mum was bound to be busy elsewhere. ‘Did Dad bring in any milk?’

‘Don’t think he did, love.’ Tilly grimaced in exasperation. She ferreted in the pocket of her apron and pulled out coins in a fist. ‘Here, nip to the shop and get some and we’ll all have a cuppa tea.’

Despite her mother frequently going to bed under the influence she mostly got up in the morning good as new. To Alice it seemed that two different people lived in her mother’s body. One could be quite nice; the other could be a monster. Today she seemed to have recovered better than usual. The thought of sorting out Jimmy had obviously put her in a good mood.

Alice took the money and, having pulled on her coat, went out. They lived on the top floor of the house in a front and back room of about equal size and state. Now she skipped down the dank staircase and rushed towards the light streaming in through the doorless aperture at the bottom of the flight. Once the building had had a front door but it had been damaged in a ruckus many years ago and never repaired. The remnants had then been hacked off the hinges and used as firewood.

The bitter cold atmosphere outside was preferable to the gloom and stench that shrouded their home. Alice sniffed in crisp, clean air, thrust her hands in her pockets and set off on a brisk walk towards the shop.

Either side of the street loomed terraced houses set behind railings, similar to the one from which Alice had just dashed. Campbell Road marched from Seven Sisters Road at one end to Lennox Road at the other and was cut in half by Paddington Street. The tenements were overcrowded, without adequate washing facilities for either people or equipment. Added to a permeating smell of grime was an atmosphere of rising damp and overflowing privies, for the buildings were badly maintained. The majority of the landlords felt under no obligation to do repairs until threatened by a visit from the sanitary inspector.

The Keivers lived in what was known as the rougher end of The Bunk close to the junction with Seven Sisters Road. That territory had always been intended to house the impoverished. The top half of the road had been built with a better class of occupant in mind. But those people had long since decamped in search of respectable neighbours, leaving their properties to be divided and colonised, often by as many as thirty poor people.

As Alice walked, hunched into her coat, she caught sight of her friend, Sarah Whitton. She called out, waved and darted over to the other side of the road to talk to her. ‘You not at school either?’

Sarah aimlessly juggled the few groceries she’d just bought from the corner shop. ‘Mum’s took bad again this morning.’

Alice grimaced in sympathy. It was well-known by her neighbours that Mrs Whitton hadn’t been right since her son passed away. He’d caught the whooping cough and died, making the whole road fearful of going the same way. Lenny Whitton had been a strapping lad of fourteen and the consensus of opinion had been that if it took him out, anyone was fair game. In fact only one other person had succumbed and she had been sixty-nine and already in poor health.

Now Sarah’s mum suffered with nerves and spent most of her time shut indoors. She survived by living off her three daughters. Sarah, who’d not yet had her twelfth birthday, spent the weekends doing whatever odd jobs she could find. Ginny Whitton’s husband had departed shortly after Lenny. But he’d gone just around the corner to Lennox Road and a woman who was less trouble to live with.

‘Why aren’t you at school? You bunkin’ off?’ Sarah asked.

‘Nah! I’ve got to look after Lucy ’cos there’s trouble brewin’.’

‘Yeah? What?’ Sarah had immediately perked up at the prospect of a bit of gossip.

‘You should’ve heard the racket going on in ours last night. There won’t half be big trouble when me mum ‘n’ Aunt Fran catch up with Uncle Jimmy.’ Alice’s blue eyes grew round in her pale face. She leaned forward to confide, ‘Should see the state of me aunt Fran! She looks like she’s been street fighting with a pro.’ Alice whipped a chilly hand from her pocket to demonstrate her poor aunt’s disfigurement. ‘Lip out here and eye like that ‘n’ already going black.’

Sarah’s jaw dropped open. ‘Yer dad going after him?’

‘Dad don’t know yet what’s gone on. Me mum’ll get Jimmy first, anyhow, if she can find him.’

‘I know where he is,’ Sarah gasped triumphantly.

‘Where?’ Alice demanded with a grin.

‘Seen him go in number fifty-five as I was coming out of the shop. It was only a few minutes ago.’

Alice blinked at a house a few doors away. ‘Cor! Dunno why he’s hiding in there. You’d have thought he’d scarper further’n that. Nellie Tucker lives there, don’t she?’ Alice didn’t know much about Nellie Tucker other than she worked nights and lived with her old mum. Although she did recall that a lot of the women round here seemed to have taken against her since she moved in about six months ago. But then feuds between people were commonplace in The Bunk. She shrugged. ‘Suppose I’d better get going. Gotta get some milk. See yer, then.’

When Alice returned home she found her mum in the process of bathing Aunt Fran’s face with a cloth.

‘Hold still,’ Tilly ordered as Fran tried to duck from the pressure on her cuts and bruises.

Alice put the milk on the table and watched.

‘Get the tea goin’, Al, there’s a good gel.’

Alice obediently set the half-full kettle on the hob grate. ‘I just saw Sarah Whitton. She’s off school ‘n’ all.’

‘Her mum bad?’ Tilly asked whilst still patting gently at Fran’s closed eye.

‘Yeah. She just saw Uncle Jimmy going in number fifty-five.’

Tilly halted with the cloth poised above her sister’s face. Both women swivelled to look at Alice. ‘You sure about that, Al?’ her mum asked whilst from a corner of her eye she gave Fran a significant look.

‘That’s what she said. Why’s he gone in there?’

Tilly dropped the cloth back into the basin.

‘I reckon I can guess why he’s gone in there,’ Fran choked out through her fat lips. ‘The bastard! With that scabby bitch!’

‘Come on. Let’s get this done,’ Tilly announced briskly and started rolling up her sleeves.

When they’d gone Alice went to check on baby Lucy. She was still in exactly the same position as when last she’d seen her. But now her tiny face was crumpling and she was making little whimpering sounds. Alice knew she would soon start to wail. Picking up the rag her mum had used on Aunt Fran, she looked for a clean edge. She tore it away then dipped the end into some of the milk she’d just bought. Gently she inserted the milky cloth between Lucy’s lips and watched her suck.

Having satisfied the baby for a moment, she went to the window and angled her head to try to see her mum and aunt. But number fifty-five was too far away for her to catch sight of what might be going on. She pulled a chair close to the window and stood on it but her view was no better from the top sash. Her curiosity was getting the better of her and she quickly found a shawl and wrapped Lucy in it. Then she whipped off her school pinafore and tucked Lucy into that too. Impatient to be outside, Alice scrambled into her coat and, bundling Lucy onto her shoulder, she darted out of the room and down the stairs.

Chapter Three

A little jeering crowd had already gathered about the railings outside number fifty-five. Soon Alice was close enough to see what entertained them. Her mum had hold of a fistful of Nellie Tucker’s fair hair and was dragging her head down close to the pavement. Her other hand was busy delivering swift punches to Nellie’s face. Uncle Jimmy looked embarrassed and keen to get away from Aunt Fran, who was waving her arms and ranting at him.

Alice knew that Uncle Jimmy had beaten his wife, and that it wasn’t the first time. It seemed hard to believe he could ever do such a thing. He always had a laugh and a joke for her and Sophy when they met him. She could see now that he had that soppy smile on his face. It looked like he was puzzled as to what the fuss was all about. Alice edged nearer, hoping to find out what had started this latest upset.

‘Yer fuckin’ whore. Get yerself back down Finsbury Park. Keep to reg’lar clients, or yer’ll have more o’ the same.’ Alice recognised her mum’s raucous voice.

As if to make her point Tilly landed one final blow on the side of Nellie’s head before letting go of her hair. Nellie tipped forward onto all fours. To add insult to injury, Tilly sent the woman crashing down onto her chin by kicking her up the behind. A hoot of laughter erupted from the assembled throng. A few of the women started to clap. ‘New position for you, love, eh? Or perhaps you like it up the jacksie,’ someone shouted.

Another time Tilly might have joined in the banter but she was in no mood for it today. She stuck her hands on her hips and swiftly got her breath back before swinging about. She immediately stalked after her brother-in-law. ‘You fuckin’ animal.’ One of her thick fingers was up close to Jimmy’s unshaven chin. ‘Find yourself another place and another punch bag. Come back here again and touch me sister ‘n’ you’ll be leavin’ in a pine box.’

Bright colour started to creep up under Jimmy’s collar. Having a brawl in the street with a man was one thing; being threatened by a woman in front of an audience was another. Tilly bloody Keiver was making him into a laughing stock and he didn’t even have the consolation of knowing that later he could, behind closed doors and at his leisure, kick the words back down her throat. She wasn’t his to tame, more was the pity. Only once had she been at his mercy and if he’d known what a thorn in his side she’d become over the years he’d have done a far better job of making sure she gave him respect and a wide berth in the future. That soft sod she’d married let her get away with too much and she’d got cocksure.

He took a furtive glance to right and left to see who was witnessing his humiliation. One of his drinking pals from Lennox Road was laughing openly at him and it made his gut start to writhe. He’d have to give Tilly Keiver a smack in public just to save face.

With his fists tightening at his sides he marched after Tilly to confront her. ‘You interfering bitch,’ he enunciated in a furious whisper whilst swaying on the balls of his feet, ready to strike. ‘Why don’t yer piss off home and sort out your own business?’

‘This is my business, you bastard,’ Tilly snarled and lunged forward, her fingers curled. Before she could tear into him she was grabbed from behind and hauled clear of Jimmy’s swinging fist.

Jack Keiver held onto his struggling wife, his arms hooked under hers so she could do nothing but kick out in frustration and punch her hands in the air. Ignoring her threats and curses he simply said one word, ‘Twitch.’ It was enough to immediately calm her down and quieten the crowd.

The little group of spectators started to shuffle, then disperse. In less than a minute only Nellie, still on her hands and knees and whimpering, remained with the Keiver clan when the two constables reached them.

‘What’s going on here?’

The officer who had spoken was Constable Bickerstaff, nicknamed Twitch by inhabitants of The Bunk on account of a recurrent tic that regularly brought one of his shoulders and ears together. He spasmed and cast a stern look at the dishevelled woman crouching on the floor. ‘What’s going on?’ he again demanded to know. He fiddled with the truncheon on his hip as though to reinforce his authority and hurry an explanation.

‘Nuthin’.’

The single word was chorused by all, even Nellie. Twitch turned to his colleague. Constable Franks was more interested in eyeing a comely woman across the road than bothering with this rabble. Connie Whitton had been watching the spectacle at a distance. The little tease knew he liked her and tauntingly flicked up her skirt to give him a glimpse of her knees before having a raucous laugh with her friends at his expense.

‘What d’you reckon about all this?’ Bickerstaff asked Franks. ‘It looks like more than nothing to me.’

‘I reckon it’s nothing if that’s what they all say it is,’ the younger man replied flatly, then looked around, his expression displaying disgust at his environment. The depressing, rotten houses marched off either side of the road as far as the eye could see, interspersed here and there by shops that seemed to make little effort to draw in customers, judging by their gloomy window displays. Franks had been transferred from Hampstead so was quite new to this beat. He knew they were required to walk this route but he saw no reason why they should linger unnecessarily in the worst street in North London.

Campbell Road, so he had been told by long-serving colleagues, and some of The Bunk’s inhabitants, was home to the most notorious criminals: thieves, prostitutes, fraudsters – every sort of rogue and vagabond drifted through this slum. Unbelievable as it seemed to Franks, some had settled and been resident a very long while. If a couple of women – one who looked like she’d had seven bells beaten out of her – wanted to set about a well-known brass, it didn’t take a genius to work out that one of their old men was playing away. Bickerstaff might be a stickler for doing things by the book but, in the great scheme of things, this was a petty domestic incident. The Bunk community had its own system of justice. Franks agreed with it: leave them be to shovel up their own shit.

‘Well . . . right . . . come on, then. Get on home, the lot of you, before I change my mind and get out my book.’ Twitch earned his nickname again. He didn’t want to start an argument with Franks in front of this crowd. But back at base he’d have something to say about his colleague’s lack of support. To his mind, the new recruit was too keen on warming his arse on a chair and his hands on a mug of tea.

Jimmy Wild needed no further telling. With a sly, poisonous look encompassing his wife and his in-laws he sauntered off towards Paddington Street. Tilly and Jack took up position either side of Fran and, linking arms, they started off home.

Twitch made to follow Franks who’d also moved away, impatient to get back to the comfort of the station. He hesitated and stooped to take a look at Nellie, who was still huddled on the pavement. Not a soul had come to her aid, even to get her to her feet. The worthless scumbag who’d caused the trouble had been the first to skedaddle.

Sidney Bickerstaff had been pounding this beat for very many years. He knew the people round here. He knew Wild. He was a womanising thug who had once put his wife in hospital because he couldn’t control his temper or his fists. Yet the policeman had seen the weasel turn and flee rather than stand his ground when an irate fellow accused him of touching up his wife. Sidney came across many Jimmy Wilds in his line of work. Every one was a charming fellow on the surface. But underneath was a despicable coward who enjoyed beating up women because a fair fight with another man terrified him.