London. All blazing lights and shops and traffic and scurrying people flying about like a load of bees whose hive has been disturbed. It was almost too much for me when I got off the train at Waterloo. The noise of chattering, restless, moving people, trains coming and going, announcements over the tannoy, the rattle of luggage on trolleys – it all hit me like a brickbat in the face. I wanted to turn tail, run back and get a job in Bournemouth instead.
Why had I ever listened to Jim? He had kept writing since Joe’s wedding, urging me to come and join him in London. His persistence wore me down in the end and I began to consider the idea as a possibility. And now here I was.
‘You’ll love it, Bridie,’ he kept saying, ‘you’ll never want to leave.’
But I didn’t love it. I felt terrified of so much noisy humanity and stood rooted to the spot, jostled by people who were used to all this and who knew just where they were going and why. No one took any notice of me at all except to give me an impatient look as they bumped into me, wondering what sort of a fool I was, standing there as if turned to stone.
Jim came running down the platform towards me. I was deeply relieved to see his familiar face.
‘Oh, Jim!’ I exclaimed. Seeing my look of consternation and dismay he laughed, then caught me up in his arms and hugged me.
‘Bridie! Don’t look so scared. It’s fine. You’ll get used to it. Then you won’t be able to bear to stay in all those lonely spots you lived in for so long. Bit of a shock at first, I know, but I’m here. You’re not alone.’
He was so sweet and caring. I felt a sense of comfort and trust in him. After all, he was family – almost. Picking up my two cases, he called a porter to take them out to his car.
‘You’ve got your own car?’
‘Bit of an old banger, really, But she gets me about. Vital when I’m in Cambridge, saves no end of train fares and hassle. I’d have driven down to get you from Bournemouth if you’d let me. Why wouldn’t you let me?’
‘I wanted to experience the train journey,’ I laughed. ‘Joe paid first class for me and it was so nice and comfy. I had a little meal in the buffet car and felt quite posh. Never done any of these things before, Jim, it’s so exciting. Where do we go now?’
Jim was all cheerful and pleased with himself. He took me by the arm and gently steered me though the crowds until we reached his car. ‘I found you a room,’ he said. ‘Alice, a friend of mine from Uni, told me about it. Her mother’s really rich, owns houses all over the place and does single lettings in Archway. It’s not the best of areas, I’m afraid.’
‘That’s kind of you, Jim. I wouldn’t have known where to begin.’
‘No problem. I’m here to help you. I told you so. This Archway place will do for a bit. And then we can go and look for something more salubrious.’
‘Mmm. … ’ I smiled and looked suitably grateful but wasn’t keen on all this ‘we’. It sounded as if Jim was trying to take over my life now. However kind all this help was meant to be, I was stubbornly determined to make my own decisions. All the same, as we drove through what appeared to be endless miles of streets, all looking alike, shabby, grey and ugly, I was relieved that I didn’t have to negotiate all this on my own.
Just looking around this busy city made me feel homesick. I longed for open spaces, the crashing sound of the sea, the funny sight of oystercatchers wading in the mud and the wailing cries of the gulls over the rocks. The only sea round here was made up of people surging to and fro, lapping round every corner and every street. What was I doing here? My heart sank within me. Ryan was right – I would never get used to this horrible place. However, here I was and I must make the best of it, see if I could find work and save enough money. Then I might decide what to do with my life and where to settle for good. Oh, but it would have to be by the sea!
We arrived, after what seemed an age of manoeuvring round noisy, traffic-filled streets, at a tall thin terraced house in a busy main road. The gaunt, forbidding houses stretched in a row along the road with little yards separated from the pavement by low stone walls in front and stone steps leading to shabby neglected front doors. We walked up the flight of steps to a double front door that was once a royal blue but now cracked and peeling. Taking the keys from his pocket, Jim let us into a dark, dreary, uncared-for hallway. The walls were a grimy beige and some kids had scribbled on it as far as they could reach. A public phone box was attached to the wall, surprisingly still intact. There was a nice square floor of mosaic tiling, but the same couldn’t be said for the stair carpet: thin, spotted grey, held in place by brass runners that hadn’t been polished in years.
I thought of Sid Waterman and what he would have to say if he saw such neglect. He would have this lazy lot polishing those rails and painting the walls too. As we climbed up the narrow stairs, we passed other closed doors, many of them looking scratched and scuffed. On each landing there were two rooms and a sash window that looked down upon a small fenced-off back garden. The garden was just a tumble of weeds, mainly rosebay willow herb growing in wild pink profusion but it was the most attractive sight I’d seen up to now.
I already hated the place; its bleak, dingy Victorian atmosphere was depressing and claustrophobic. Jim seemed oblivious to the decay around him and kept rattling on about all the sights he meant to take me to see.
‘You’ve got to see Buckingham Palace, Madame Tussauds, the Tower of London and Hyde Park, have a ride on a bus and on the Tube. Bet you’ve never even been on an escalator. That’s the tourist stuff, of course. After that I’ll introduce you to some of my friends and we’ll go to some nightclubs or boating on the Thames … ’
‘Whoa!’ I exclaimed. ‘All in good time, Jim. I need to look for a job first before I can afford all this.’
‘Oh,’ he said, ‘you’ll be my guest. It’s my welcome to London, little sis.’
Using another door key, Jim let me into a large room overlooking the street. I was disappointed not to be overlooking the garden but Jim told me the rooms at the front were bigger and anyway he had to take what was on offer. He dropped my bags with some relief for the stairs were steep.
‘Feels like you’ve brought half of Bournemouth with you,’ he groaned as he sank down onto the bed. Lying back, he flung his arms out, wiggling his aching fingers.
‘All my worldly possessions. Mostly clothes and none of them much good. Thanks for bringing the cases up. You’re quite the gent nowadays.’
‘I always was,’ he grinned. ‘I always will be.’
‘Then stop lying all over my bed and let’s put the kettle on. There is a kettle here, I hope.’
He bounced off the bed. ‘Must be. Let’s have a look in the cupboard.’
We found a much-used tin kettle and gave it a good rinse out. I felt suspicious of the level of cleanliness in this place, being used to sparkling glassware and mugs that weren’t coated in tannin. Luckily Jim had some matches in his jacket pocket and he got the little gas stove lit up and put the kettle on to boil. Then he rinsed out the mugs while I unpacked the tea and sugar.
‘Haven’t got any milk,’ I said.
‘There’s a little shop on the corner,’ said Jim, ‘I spotted it coming up. I’ll nip down and get a pinta for you.’
While he was off on his errand, I looked around and took stock of the room. It was a fair size, bigger than I’d been used to in the cottages and certainly bigger than Ethel’s box room. The ceilings were high and it might once have been quite an attractive room. It was reasonably well kept, the cream paint looking quite fresh and new. However, I made up my mind to scrub the place from top to toe before I even unpacked. There was a drum of Vim under the sink, some green soap, a dustpan and brush and a few scourers. The last tenant had left a bit of washing up liquid as well. That would do for a starters.
Jim arrived with the milk, a packet of biscuits, some butter and a loaf of sliced bread. He’d even thought to get a tin of corned beef to cut up for sandwiches.
‘Good thinking,’ I said. ‘I’m getting peckish.’
‘Student sustenance,’ he smiled. ‘We live on corned beef, baked beans, bread and biscuits ad nauseum. I can do better than that now, thank goodness! It’s weird having some spare cash for once in my life. I feel really rich but I’ll have to be careful. Money doesn’t last forever and thankfully I do have some summer work lined up.’
‘Your money won’t last at all the way you’re proposing to spend it. Nightclubs, taking me around and all that – London flats and cars… ’
‘I need somewhere to live and transport is always useful. I hate waiting about for buses in the rain. Hate waiting for anything really. I can’t wait to finish my degree and get a pupillage in London with some famous barrister. I’ve been pulling strings like mad lately and may have some good news when I next see you. It’s never too early to get oneself with the right set, you know. I want to do exceedingly well, Bridie, exceedingly well.’ He said this with a fierce passion in his voice.
‘What’s so important in doing well?’ I asked. ‘Frankly, I just want to be peaceful and happy.’
‘My dear, you’re a girl. Girls aren’t ambitious as a rule, though they should be. Men have to be, you know. I want success, Bridie, I need success. I want to prove something to myself as well as to others. Show them I’m better than they are; a force to be reckoned with.’
‘Isn’t it just sibling rivalry? You want to do better than Andy?’
‘Oh, Andy,’ he said dismissively, ‘he only thinks about making money – and he will, damn him. He’s always had the gift for it and has no principles of any sort. I’d like to do better than him, naturally. I was Mother’s little darling, you know, till Andy got a bit older and began to lay on the charm and hypocrisy. He’s always been a liar and a cheat and kept Mum buttered up for his own ends. And she fell for it, poor fool.’
For a moment Jim looked pensive then went on in the same passionate yet oddly distant tone of voice he sometimes used. It was as if a voice spoke through him at times, using him as its mouthpiece. Where that voice came from within him, I had no idea, but it often scared me.
‘I believe in justice, Bridie, that’s why I want to go for criminal law. I want to see the evil people of this world behind bars. Pity they gave up hanging from the gallows. I want the victims and the innocent to walk free and safe. Isn’t that a nobler desire than wanting to grub about for money all the time? Money is great. Oh, yes, it’s a key to a lot of things but in the end it corrupts and rules you. No, it isn’t money I’m after but justice, seeing justice done.’
These words all sounded very moral and high-principled and yet to my ears there was an almost chilling intensity in his voice that spoke more of a crusade and desire for power.
‘Sounds like you want to play God, Jim,’ I said. ‘You make me think of that Lewis Carroll rhyme … “I’ll be Judge, I’ll be Jury, said cunning old Fury. I’ll try the whole lot and condemn them to death!” ’
Jim’s face relaxed and he laughed. ‘I shall only be a barrister, not a Judge. But if I believe in my client, I shall do all I can to persuade a jury. The power will be in my ability to put forth what I believe to be right and the rest is up to the system.’
‘All the same, I can just see you as a judge, one day,’ I said. ‘Then the power would be yours once the verdict was returned. The power over a man’s life. Just suppose he was innocent of the crime? I would hate that responsibility.’
‘No, I prefer the power of the advocate – the power of words, Bridie, the power of persuasion. We can do nothing about miscarriages of justice. They do happen, of course, but a man can appeal, can’t he? The British system of justice is the best in the world and I trust it implicitly. But a barrister uses … persuasion.’
I stared at him and he looked at me in a funny sort of way as he said this. My heart leapt a little and suddenly I felt uncomfortable. I was tired and really wanted him to go so that I could get on with my cleaning and settling in. Putting down my mug of tea, I suppressed a yawn.
‘Jim, I’m dead beat. I really need a rest now.’
He got the hint and rising, said, ‘Right, I’ll get going. I’m afraid I don’t have a phone in my flat yet but here’s my work number. I’ve got a fantastic bit of work for the hols, real bit of luck. I’ll pop round tomorrow night to be sure you’re okay and settling in and tell you all about it. Maybe take you out for a meal or something.’
‘There’s no need,’ I said gently. ‘I’m not a baby, Jim. I’ll find my feet in no time. You don’t need to molly-coddle me and I don’t want you to either. I really want to do something for myself. Not that I’m ungrateful for all your kindness and help. It’s great to be welcomed. It’s great to know you’re nearby. But let me be for a week or so. I need to sort myself out.’
‘Okay, have it your way.’ He sounded disappointed. I didn’t care. I was tired of everyone running my life.
He came over and gave me a little kiss on the cheek. I smiled, opened the door and almost pushed him out. He seemed reluctant to leave but that was tough. I’d just sat down with a deep sigh of relief when he was back, knocking on the door.
‘What is it?’ I asked irritably.
‘I almost forgot to give you the keys,’ he said, ‘put them back in my pocket by habit. Sorry. I really am going now.’
‘Bye, Jim!’ I said firmly. His face clouded but he went at last and I leant against the door until his steps died away on the stairs. Then looked about me.
Why was I here? I felt a sudden feeling of dread in the pit of my stomach but put it down to nonsense, tiredness and overstrained nerves. Here I was and must make the best of it.