While Cissie was making her way home in the truck, in the draining heat of the sultry, June afternoon, still unsure as to whether Turner was planning to help her or not, Lil, who was actually having a far easier time of things, was grumbling irritably to herself.
She had just finished reading the paper and was settling down on her bed in the front room to close her eyes for a little sleep, when someone started tapping on the street door.
‘That bleed’n Gladys,’ she fumed, hauling herself up on her elbows. ‘I only asked the lazy rotten mare to mind ’em for a couple of hours while I had a rest. Won’t do nothing for no one, some people. Selfish, that’s what it is.’
Stomping along the passage, Lil’s temper flared as the knocking grew louder.
‘All right, all right,’ she hollered, ‘why didn’t yer just let yerself in?’ She grabbed the door and flung it back on its hinges. ‘The bloody thing ain’t locked yer—’
Lil’s mouth was still open, but no words were coming out.
‘Hello, Lil,’ said the shy middle-aged man who was standing on the step. ‘Hope I ain’t disturbing yer or nothing.’
Lil bristled and snorted. Her voice restored, she stuck her face close to his and sneered nastily. ‘Frank bloody Bentley. What the hell d’you want coming sniffing round here?’
Frank ran his hands through his grey-flecked, but still glossy black hair, tugging nervously at it in just the way that his daughter, Cissie, did whenever she was anxious or worried.
‘Me and Ellen want Cissie to have this,’ he said, taking a thin roll of notes from his pocket and holding it out to Lil. ‘We know things can’t be easy for her at the minute.’
Lil’s sneer was magically transformed into a look of martyred suffering, as she eyed the money greedily.
‘Won’t yer step inside a minute, Frank?’ she said pulling him into the hall, the desire to keep the visit a secret from the neighbours, rather than good manners or even basic decency, being her motive for doing so. ‘And yer right, yer know, Frank. Things ain’t easy for none of us nowadays, what with no regular money coming in, like. And what with all the sadness.’
She sighed loudly, and clasped her chest for dramatic good measure. ‘It’s a terrible thing losing a child, yer know. Really terrible.’
Frank angled his head away from her. ‘Yeah, I know it is,’ he said quietly. He took a deep breath and then turned back to face her. ‘Would Cissie be in, Lil? I’d love to see her.’
Having her sights set on the money in Frank’s hand, Lil didn’t tell him to bugger off out of it and mind his own business – the first answer that came to mind – instead, she shook her head mournfully. ‘No, Frank, she’s not. The poor little mare’s had to go out and try to earn a few shillings. Anything to put a bit of grub on the table for the little ones. Left first thing she did. Wasn’t even properly light. She’s a real little trier that one. I’m right proud of her, I am.’
Frank dropped his chin; he couldn’t stand the thought of Lil seeing the tears gathering in his eyes.
‘This’ll help her out,’ he said as much to himself as to Lil, waving the roll tantalisingly close to her. ‘And how are the kids doing?’ He brushed anxiously at the thick fringe of hair that had fallen over his eyes. ‘Me and Ellen are always talking about ’em, wondering how they are. P’raps I could see ’em. I’d love that, Lil.’
‘I’m sure yer would.’ Lil’s expression was guarded, wary; the last thing she wanted was to put her own position in jeopardy by helping Cissie make her peace with her mum and dad. She needed to keep control of the situation, not have some sniffling great nancy sticking his nose in and ruining everything. ‘But I can’t really have yer coming in here while young Cissie’s out, now can I, Frank? I mean, it wouldn’t be right, now would it? Not with things being the way they are between yers.’
Frank thought for a moment, tapping the roll of notes on the palm of his hand. ‘Look, Lil, I know we’ve never got on—’
‘I wouldn’t say that,’ Lil smarmed, her gaze following the rhythmic motion of the money in his hands.
Frank carried on as though she’d said nothing, ‘—but I’m gonna ask you a favour.’
Lil had high hopes and a very good idea as to what that favour was going to be, but she kept up her innocent act. ‘What’s that then, Frank? What can I do for yer? Just you name it, mate.’
‘I’d appreciate yer giving this twenty-five pounds to Cissie. And tell her that me and her mum are thinking of her.’ He took a deep breath and let it out in a long shuddering sigh. ‘And that we was sorry we never got to talk to her at the funeral. And we’ll do anything, whatever she wants, to try and get back together again. Anything so’s we can see her and the kids. Anything.’
Lil’s hand twitched. The money was almost in her grasp. ‘Course, Frank, you know me. I’ll do whatever I can to make my darling daughter-in-law happy. She’s been an angel to me, that girl. A real angel. You ask anyone round here. But then I’ve been a comfort to her and all at this sad time, ain’t I?’
Frank lifted his chin in what could have been interpreted as either acknowledgement of his daughter’s virtues or cynicism about Lil’s newly acquired decency. ‘Just tell her I was here, eh, Lil?’ he said, handing the money over.
Putting it straight into her apron pocket, Lil smiled beatifically. ‘Yer can depend on me,’ she said, easing him out of the door. ‘Now, I’ll have to be getting on. I’ve got lots to do. Always plenty o’ jobs to keep yer busy when there’s kiddies around.’
Frank pulled on his cap. ‘I’ll call round again, Lil. Try and catch her in next time.’
‘When?’
‘Sometime,’ he shrugged.
Lil could have spat at him as she closed the door. He was coming back! Her plans for the twenty-five pounds melted away like dripping in a roasting pan. If Cissie caught her nicking money off her, she might well turn on her and chuck her out, and Lil had no intention of finding a new meal ticket at her age. No, she thought to herself, as she made her way along the passage to the kitchen, that wouldn’t suit her at all. She’d make herself a cup of tea and think up something or other. She couldn’t let a chance like this slip out of her hands.
As she filled the kettle, a smile slowly found its way to Lil’s lips. She’d think up something all right, after all, didn’t she have a real talent for playing around with the truth? Hadn’t she taught her boy all the tricks he knew?
Less than a quarter of an hour later, as Lil heard the front door open, and Cissie call out hello, she put her newly hatched plan into action.
‘Wherever did yer get that?’ The sticky heat, Big Bill Turner, and her worries about the two strange men at the pitch temporarily forgotten, Cissie goggled at the sight of her mother-in-law sitting at the kitchen table putting pound notes and ten-shilling notes into two separate piles. Admittedly they were very small piles, but they were piles nonetheless.
‘Yer never gonna believe this,’ Lil beamed, stroking the ten-shilling pile as though it were a much-loved pet, ‘but I found all this lot on the coconut mat in the passage.
Someone must’ve stuck it through the street door for us.’
Totally bewildered by this sudden stroke of good fortune, Cissie dropped down on to the chair opposite Lil. ‘How much is there?’
‘Twenty pounds! Just think what we can do with twenty pounds!’
Cissie shook her head in bewilderment, then suddenly slapped the flat of her hand on the table. ‘I know who’s done this,’ she said, solving the puzzle.
‘Who?’ Lil demanded.
‘It’s Sammy Clarke, innit?’
Lil scowled. Not bloody Sammy Clarke again. ‘What would he wanna go giving us money for?’ she asked suspiciously.
Cissie felt her cheeks burning. ‘He’s been very good to us lately, Lil. In fact, we wouldn’t be getting by without him.’
Lil didn’t look very impressed, the last thing she wanted was Sammy Clarke coming on the firm and confusing matters. ‘He’s a right old woman that one if you ask me. I mean, what sort of life’s that for a bloke, serving in a corner shop? He’s a right pansy.’
Cissie stood up. ‘Well, I think he’s a really decent bloke, and I’m gonna go over and thank him.’
Cissie walked over to the kitchen doorway and paused. She swung round, frowning. ‘Here, where’s the kids?’
‘They’re all right. They’re playing,’ said Lil distractedly. This was getting complicated. She needed time to think. ‘You get yerself over Clarke’s if yer going.’
When Elsie Collier – the woman from number six who took in lodgers – finally left the shop with one of her ‘gentlemen’ in tow to carry all her bags, Cissie was, at last, alone with Sammy.
‘Come on, Cis,’ Sammy beamed, ‘tell me all about it. I’ve been dying to know all day. How’d yer get on at the market this morning? Get yerself some decent gear, did yer?’
Cissie smiled back at him, touched by his concern and his humility. He’d just given her twenty pounds and he wasn’t even going to mention it. Most people would be broadcasting such an act of generosity.
‘It was you, wasn’t it, Sam?’ she said gently. ‘Yer knew I’d probably mess it all up at first, and wind up broke again.’
‘I never thought yer’d mess up nothing. Yer a clever girl, Cissie Flowers, always have been. Yer used to run rings round the rest of us lot at school. So why should I think that?’
‘Yer mean yer really think I’ve done it?’
Sammy leant on the counter and jerked his head towards the customer’s chair. ‘Why don’t yer sit yerself down and tell me all about it?’
‘There ain’t much to tell.’ Cissie lifted her fringe off her face, brushing it back with her fingers. ‘I got the flowers all right, well I reckon I paid a bit over the odds, but at least I got ’em. Trouble was, when I got to the pitch, there was these two blokes there already.’
‘What, with a stall?’
She nodded. ‘Yeah.’
‘That ain’t right, surely. Davy had that spot for years.’
‘I must have known deep down, yer know, that he was involved with something bad,’ she said more to herself than to Sammy. ‘We had things too easy.’
‘Bad, yer say?’
‘Yeah, and now I’ve gotta start paying for it.’
‘But how d’yer mean, bad?’
‘They was—’ Cissie hesitated, considered what she was about to say, then thought better of it. She’d said too much already. She had no business involving Sammy in the world she had glimpsed today. Even talking to him about it could bring him trouble, she wasn’t sure how, but she felt it, deep inside.
‘They was what? You ain’t making no sense.’
‘No, I ain’t, am I? I’m tired out, I reckon, and rambling on like a nutcase. Just ignore me, Sam. Anyway, what I really come over for wasn’t to start me moaning again. I come over to thank yer for that twenty quid.’
Sammy scratched his head. ‘Are you talking in some sort of code, Cis? Cos honest, love, I ain’t following none of this.’
Cissie narrowed her eyes. ‘Are you saying you never went over home this afternoon and stuck some money through me letterbox?’
‘It weren’t me.’ Sammy looked put out by the thought that Cissie might have another benefactor. ‘But I can let you have more if yer need it, girl,’ he added hurriedly, stabbing his finger on the brass till keys and opening the drawer with a loud ring. ‘You know that.’
‘Thanks all the same, Sam, honest.’ Cissie held up her hand to refuse his offer. ‘But I owe yer enough already.’
‘Don’t you worry yerself about that.’ He considered for a moment. ‘So, who d’you think did it?’ he asked, his jaw rigid. Someone was trying to buy their way into Cissie’s affections and Sammy didn’t like it. He didn’t like it one little bit. There wasn’t much he could offer Cissie but a bit of financial help, and now it looked as though she didn’t even need that.
Cissie lowered her eyes, her voice trembling as she spoke. ‘The other day, I went and asked some o’ Davy’s old mates for help. They was a bit, you know, funny in front of one another. Acting all tough. But I reckon they’ve come up trumps. He was a popular feller yer see, my Davy. He had a lot of friends. Good friends. I should’ve known they wouldn’t let me down when it come to it.’
Cissie pulled out her hanky and wiped her eyes. ‘I’ll see yer later, Sam.’
Back across the street at number seven, Cissie had another surprise waiting for her. As she stepped inside the front door, there was an envelope addressed to her on the coconut mat.
‘When did this come?’ she asked Lil, tearing it open, as she went into the kitchen.
Lil, who was standing at the sink washing her hands under the single cold tap, looked over her shoulder. ‘I dunno,’ she said defensively. Surely Frank hadn’t been back already. ‘I’ve been out the back in the lav. Show us. Who’s it from?’
She wiped her hands hastily on her apron and rushed to Cissie’s side as another thought occurred to her. ‘Here? It’s not more money, is it?’
‘No, it’s a letter.’
Lil had the horrible taste of bile rise in her throat. That bloody interfering Frank Bentley!
She watched closely as Cissie, her lips moving as she silently read the letter to herself, scanned the page.
‘So, who’s it from then?’
Cissie looked up. ‘It’s from some bloke called Jim.’
‘Jim? Who the sodding hell’s Jim when he’s at home?’
Cissie ran her finger through the words, finding the place, then she read:
‘I am a wholesale flower seller at Covent Garden who used to have a trade with Davy. I was sorry what happened to him. He was a mate. I want to let you know I will be glad to have a trade with you if you are keeping the stall on. You can find me most mornings in Portelli’s cafe having my breakfast. Any time up until half past four or so when we start dealing. I thought a lot of Davy and will do anything I can to help his family.’
Cissie lowered the letter and looked at Lil. ‘I bet it was him what put the money through the door,’ she said excitedly. ‘Yer must’ve missed the letter, Lil, when yer was picking up the twenty quid. It probably got stuck behind the mat or something.’
‘Yeah,’ Lil agreed readily. ‘That’ll be it. Stuck behind the mat. Fancy that eh?’ Lil could have kissed this Jim, whoever he was.
Cissie sat down at the table and stared at the letter and the two piles of money. ‘D’you know what, Lil? I reckon that after everything I’ve been through these last couple of months, I really think things are taking a turn for the better at last. And if this Jim is as nice as he sounds, he might be able to help me with another little problem I’ve got and all.’ Lil went across to the overmantel and began applying a thick coat of lipstick to her narrow mouth. ‘Problem?’ she asked through stretched lips.
‘Yeah, with the stall. Yer see—’
‘Aw, the stall,’ Lil interrupted. ‘Right, yeah.’ She wasn’t the least bit interested in what Cissie had to say, she was too busy patting her hair, studying it in the glass. ‘I could do with another perm, yer know, while there’s a few quid about.’
Cissie said nothing.
Lil swung around to face her. ‘I’d love to stay and listen to yer, girl, but I think I’d better pop down the Sabberton for a drop of something to steady me poor old nerves. All this excitement’s fair given me palpitations it has.’
Cissie opened her handbag. ‘Here, Lil,’ she said handing her a two-shilling piece. ‘I don’t reckon we can afford money for no hairdos, but go on, take it. Treat yerself to a couple o’ drinks.’ She put her elbows on the table and rested her chin on her hands. ‘I sold the lighter my Davy give me. That’s what’s left.’
‘Well, I hope yer got a good price for it,’ sniffed Lil, putting the coin in her pocket with the five one-pound notes already nestling there. ‘Don’t wait up, will yer?’
Lil unhooked her handbag from the back of the chair, and walked out to the passage.
‘Hang on!’ Cissie called, rushing after her. ‘I dunno what I’m thinking of.’ She grabbed Lil’s arm. ‘You said the kids was playing. So where are they?’ She stuck her fists into her waist. ‘If you’ve let them go up the road to play in that dookie Godwins’ house…’
‘No, I bleed’n ain’t.’ Lil flapped her hand impatiently. ‘They’re over Glad’s, ain’t they.’
‘Glad’s got them?’
‘That’s what I said, didn’t I?’ Lil snapped.
Cissie rubbed her hands over her face, hiding her shame. ‘She’s a good ’un, that Gladys. Even though we’ve had words, she ain’t taken it out on the kids. Not like some women would.’ She dropped her hands to her side and looked at Lil. ‘What, did Matty and Joyce ask if they could go over there?’
‘No.’ Lil shook her head and continued casually, ‘I took ’em over after their dinner. Joyce kept being sick and I couldn’t settle—’
‘You did what? Joyce’s ill and you’ve let me stand here…’ Cissie barged past Lil and ran frantically along the passage.
‘Charming!’ Cissie heard Lil snort as she flung open the door and raced across the street.
‘Glad! Glad! It’s me, Cissie, where’s Joyce?’ Cissie yelled from the street door of number four.
‘In here,’ Gladys called back.
Cissie skidded into the kitchen, taking the passage runner with her.
In the corner she saw Nipper, Ernie’s elderly grandfather, sitting talking to an attentive semicircle of youngsters made up of his younger grandchildren, and Matty. Joyce was curled up on his lap, sucking her thumb, listening intently.
‘But Lil said—’ As she spoke, it dawned on Cissie that Lil had been up to her old tricks again: telling all sorts of stupid lies just to get herself out of doing anything that might require a bit of effort on her part.
‘What did she say?’ Gladys asked, looking up from her ironing.
Cissie rolled her eyes. ‘She told me some tale about Joyce being sick.’
Gladys chuckled and spat on the iron to test the heat. ‘She don’t change, that Lil, does she? Joyce’s right as rain, ain’t yer, darling?’
Joyce looked round. Seeing her mum, she scrambled down from Nipper’s lap and launched herself at Cissie. ‘Mummy! Look, Matt, Mummy!’
Matty gave his mum a wave and a smile, but didn’t move from Nipper’s feet.
Gladys jerked her thumb at her grandfather-in-law. ‘He’s had the lot of ’em spellbound all afternoon. Telling ’em tales about when he was in the army out in Africa of all things. And there’s all that lovely sunshine out there and all. They should have been out getting their little knees brown. But he could’ve been talking double Dutch and they’d all still be sitting there, I reckon. The kids all love him. We’re lucky yer know having him living here with us.’
Cissie shifted Joyce on to her hip, reached out and took Gladys’s hand. ‘And I’m lucky to have such a good friend, Glad, even if I ain’t always been clever enough to realise it.’
And, Cissie thought to herself, as she carried Joyce back across the street to number seven, I’m lucky that Davy had friends as decent as this Jim, whoever he was. There weren’t a lot of fellers who’d take the time to write letters and send money to a mate’s widow. But Davy was the sort of bloke who’d inspire that sort of loyalty in a friend. Davy was a good ’un all right.
She smiled wistfully to herself as she stepped inside the passage. She knew it, she’d been right all along. Davy would never have been involved in anything crooked. He wasn’t the sort. And as if he wouldn’t have told her all about it if he had been. They’d never kept secrets from one another. Never.
All that talk, the hints and suggestions, about things Davy’d been involved in, it was all just spiteful-minded gossip and jealousy. Big Bill Turner was just trying to take advantage of her. And the blokes at the pitch were just trying to scare her so they could take it over. After all, Davy had proved what a good little earner it could be.
But she’d show them all, she didn’t need help from the likes of Turner, not with friends like Gladys and Jim on her side.