‘What is up with you?’ Mr Travis snapped at Faye. ‘First you give Mrs Hardy the wrong change, now Mrs Dexter’s just been back in with her bread. You gave her brown not white and overcharged her.’
‘Sorry, Mr Travis,’ Faye murmured. ‘I’ve got things on my mind.’ She’d been sent to the back room to check whether the boy had returned to take out his next delivery when Mr Travis had burst in from the shop to complain about her work.
‘Please see if you can focus on the job you’re paid for, will you?’ he muttered grumpily before the shop bell drew him, smiling, back through the door.
Faye closed her eyes against the heat of tears. She knew she’d been in a dither all morning. She couldn’t concentrate on a thing because she couldn’t for a second put the thought of her mother’s ordeal out of her head. She was looking and listening with scant attention because she was keeping an eye constantly on the clock. Time and again she’d stared at the lazy brass hands travelling on its face, willing them to speed up, wondering whether her mother was yet on her way home. She was waiting to hear the little chime for one o’clock so she could sprint back to Campbell Road on her short dinner break and see if Edie had returned. But if Edie was still out, she knew she mustn’t make Michael anxious by alerting him that something might be wrong.
She’d said nothing yet to her brother about their father’s death in a hospital in Kent. But she would. As soon as their mother was well enough, and they’d planned their escape from The Bunk, she’d tell Michael the truth before Jimmy got to him.
‘Faye!’
The barked summons startled Faye from her brooding and drew her quickly into the shop. Mr Travis gave her a forced smile.
‘Mrs Cardew would like a steak-and-kidney pie.’ He’d spoken whilst zealously swinging a paper bag to seal within two currant buns. ‘Perhaps you’d do that while I finish serving this customer.’
When the shop was again empty Mr Travis turned to her, sighing in exasperation. ‘If there’s something up, my dear, perhaps you should have a few days off and sort it out,’ he suggested. ‘I can’t do everything myself. If you like, I’ll ask Marge if she can cover for you till …’
‘No!’ Faye quickly interrupted. ‘I’m very sorry, Mr Travis. It won’t happen again.’
He passed a critical eye over her. He’d heard on the grapevine that her younger brother had been in trouble, and was in with a bad lot. But if you lived with someone like Jimmy Wild, it was inevitable that sooner or later you’d be infected by his bad habits. Mr Travis was beginning to regret having allowed Faye to keep her job after she came in with a black eye. He’d never believed her tale about falling over. He thought it far more likely that she’d given Jimmy lip and he’d felt entitled to discipline her. Mr Travis wouldn’t have let her stay working at the bakery but for Rob Wild’s latent threat of consequences in the event that she lost her job. He was in deep with him and, having fallen behind in his payments, now was not the time to upset him.
A movement by the shop window drew his attention. A moment later his mouth compressed in annoyance as he recognised Saul Bateman’s son. He had been hanging around outside quite a lot recently and, much as Mr Travis wanted trade, he didn’t want his. Thankfully, he’d seen nothing of Saul Bateman since the day he’d come in for meat pies, and that was months ago. He was fearful that if Donald hung around in the vicinity it might draw his father back too.
Of course Mr Travis knew what the attraction was for that particular youth and it was another reason he’d been considering letting the girl go. Faye was a good hard worker, but thanks to her unsavoury connections, there would always be a disturbance of some sort in her life. From her vexed expression, he deduced she too had spotted Donald Bateman. It was clear that she didn’t encourage him to keep ambushing her; Mr Travis had heard and observed her remonstrating with him. But if the son took after the father, the youth would be too arrogant to let her disgust put him off.
‘I see your admirer is waiting for you,’ Mr Travis pointed out. ‘Will you please ask him not to obscure the window display all the time.’
‘I don’t like him pestering me any more than you do!’ Faye had let her anxiety make her snappy and soon regretted it. Her boss looked shocked by her impertinence. ‘I’m sorry. Can I take an early dinner break, please?’ she asked huskily. ‘I’ll tell him again to clear off, I promise.’
Rob slowed down when he caught sight of his father’s wife. He didn’t know Edie well, but he was pretty sure she wasn’t a drunk or he’d surely have heard about it. Faye wouldn’t have kept something as serious as that to herself. He braked again and watched her as she clutched at a wall for support before stumbling on.
He’d been driving through King’s Cross, just coming back from doing a deal on a load of tinned fruit destined for his market stalls, when he’d spotted the woman staggering along. He’d grown up seeing his Aunt Matilda – his mother, too, on occasion – too rat-arsed to stand up. But it was an unusual sight for this time of day, and an odd feeling of alarm was stirring in his guts. He weaved through traffic to the kerb and stopped. As he got out and strode over to her, it occurred to him that, even if she had been out on an early bender, it was odd that she’d bother travelling this far to drink.
‘Want a lift home?’ he offered, touching her arm to make her turn towards him.
Edie had been propped against brickwork. Now she stiffly straightened and swung a chalk-white face at him. When she saw who’d spoken, her mouth worked soundlessly. ‘I’m all right … all right,’ she finally ejected. Despite the incessant pain in her abdomen she was conscious of feeling terrible shame and embarrassment that Rob Wild had seen her like this. She could sense hot stickiness trickling between her thighs and punched her skirt, desperately trying to mop the flow by wedging material against it.
The old fellow who’d done the abortion had given her pads to use before taking his money and leaving her alone on the bed to sort herself out. She’d expected it to hurt but the dull dragging ache that had started as she’d stood up had very quickly turned into a raging torture as she’d set off along the street towards home. She’d quickly realised that the wadding in her drawers wasn’t staunching the steady bleeding.
‘What is it?’ Rob bent to peer at her sickly complexion. ‘You ill?’ He could tell that she wasn’t drunk. There was no reek of alcohol about her, although she did look on the point of collapse. ‘Get in the car. I’ll take you back to The Bunk.’
A ripping pain drew an involuntary groan from Edie and, as a wave of giddiness made her sway, she instinctively sank down close to the ground.
‘Fuck’s sake …’ Rob muttered, alarmed. ‘What’s wrong?’
He was aware that people were now staring at them. A woman retraced her steps. ‘What’s up with her?’ she asked, stooping to peer into Edie’s contorted features. ‘She having an ’eart attack, d’you reckon?’
‘I’m all right!’ Edie had found the voice and the energy to bawl that out, sending the woman scuttling backwards. But the next moment she had dropped forward on to her knees, panting. ‘Take me home, would yer?’ she pleaded with Rob. But she felt too weak to get up and started to cry soundlessly when she realised that the skirt and coat she was wearing were already heavy and wet. ‘Oh, Gawd help us …’ she moaned.
Rob got hold of one of her elbows and tried to assist her to her feet. When she seemed incapable of moving, he grabbed her under the arms and hoisted her. It wasn’t until he’d bundled her on to the back seat of his car that he realised he was covered in blood.
‘So … decided to show yer face again, have you?’
‘Woss up, Nell?’ Jimmy asked, a soppy smile spreading across his face. ‘Missed me, have yer, gel?’
Nellie sat down on the sagging bed, still pulling a brush through her wiry hair. She was in her underclothes, having just had a wash in the bowl, and had been on the point of getting to bed for a couple of hours before she went out for business, when in he’d walked, bold as brass, as though he’d just nipped up the road for half an ounce of bacca.
‘Where you been then?’ she asked, a look sidling up at him from beneath her black, spiky lashes.
‘With an old pal, if you must know,’ he lied. He’d been very much on his own and had been dossing wherever he could for the past two weeks. Yesterday he’d calculated it would be safe to make tracks home with a tale to tell. Even he understood that an abortion was simpler, and less risky, done early rather than late. He’d also deduced it’d be cheaper if the job was done as soon as possible and had relied on Edie getting her skates on for that reason if no other.
‘Sorry about goin’ off like that, Nel, without giving you fair warning.’ He could see Nellie was riled, and knew he’d need to crawl a bit to keep her sweet. ‘But I met one of me old pals from down Kent way and he asked me to go back ’n’ stay with him to give him a hand with a bit of business. Been working on his market stall ’cos his mate done the dirty on him.’ He gestured his disgust. ‘Some mate he turned out to be! Run off with a whole week’s takings and left him in the lurch. Couldn’t turn me pal down when he’s had that kind o’ luck, ’specially not as he did me a good turn when I didn’t have a pot ter piss in a few years back.’
‘So … you’ve been doing favours fer a bloke, have you?’ Nellie teased her fringe with the hairbrush.
‘No harm in it, surely?’
Nellie could have laughed out loud. Jimmy Wild wouldn’t even help out his own son, unless there was a payday in it. With him, favours were for getting, not giving. But she wasn’t going to let her temper ruin her plan to get back at him.
His wife might not be sure whether Jimmy had guessed about the baby, but Nellie was convinced he had. And, like the selfish coward he was, he’d scarpered rather than face the consequences.
Over the years Nellie had been a bit on the side for many married men. In her prime, there’d been occasions when she’d been kept in style as a proper mistress. Those fellows’ wives had never been rivals because Nellie had never had any illusions about her role in a punter’s life. Years ago, before Jimmy had disappeared, he’d left his wife and young sons to live with her. At the time, her conscience had never been troubled by it. He’d been her pimp first and foremost, and any affection he’d shown her had been dependent on how well he did out of her. She’d always known he’d return to Fran like a shot if the money stopped rolling in. More than a decade later, nothing had changed apart from his wife’s name.
In Nellie’s profession it had always been a dog-eat-dog world. But something hard inside her had shrivelled since the moment she’d offered Edie her few silver coins. She’d watched the woman’s eyes pounce on three shillings as though it was manna from heaven, yet Edie, desperate as she’d been, had found the pride and decency to let her keep it. Jimmy would have scooped up the coins then chivvied her to tell the pervert she’d changed her mind and he could have anything he liked for five bob.
‘Yer wife’s been after you.’ Nellie dropped her brush on the bed and crossed her arms over her bosom. ‘Poor cow’s in the family way … but perhaps you knew that, eh?’
Jimmy affected to look astonished. ‘Nah … not Edie … she’s too old for any o’ that.’
‘Seems she ain’t,’ Nellie begged to differ. She tilted her head and watched him. ‘Come lookin’ for you to give her some money to get herself sorted out.’
‘Nah … must be a mistake … crafty cow’s probably just spent the rent. She shouldn’t go making things like that up fer a handout.’ Jimmy shook his head and continued fiddling with a roll-up, his pinched features bent towards the tobacco tin. His guts were writhing in anger. He’d not believed Edie would find the gumption to come looking for him at Nellie’s. He knew Edie had guessed a while back what kept him away so often, and he’d been pleased she seemed too mouse-like to challenge him over it. He struck a match at the wonky smoke he’d stuck between his lips. ‘When I see her, I’ll tear a strip off her,’ he spluttered past the wagging cigarette. ‘Cheek she’s got, comin’ here bothering you, luv.’
Nellie couldn’t prevent a hoot of laughter at his false concern. ‘Glad she did though, Jim, ain’t I? Somehow it just showed me something about yer I’ve never properly seen before. Or perhaps I’d seen it but just kept ignoring it ’cos I ain’t really that much better’n you, when all’s said ’n’ done. And knowing we’re alike makes me feel sick to me stomach.’
‘Woss up?’ Jimmy spread his hands in appeal. ‘You jealous ’cos I’m still pokin’ her once in a while?’ He crouched by her side and began stroking one of her flabby arms. ‘Come on … you’ve seen her … she ain’t a patch on you fer looks, Nel, is she?’ He tilted his head so she’d get the benefit of his teasing grin. ‘But I can’t just dump her when she’s got kids and’s relying on me, can I?’ He tipped closer to kiss Nellie’s cheek, remembering just in time to remove the drooping roll-up from his lips. ‘You ’n’ me were made for one another, gel. That’s why I love yer and always come back to yer.’
‘Yeah …’ Nellie muttered sourly, pulling back the blanket on the mattress.
‘Ain’t getting to bed, are you?’ Jimmy demanded, astonished. His sentimental expression had vanished and he quickly sat down beside her and slung an arm about her shoulders, keeping her upright. ‘No time to kip, sweet’eart. Come on … I’ll take you up west, ’cos I’m back from Kent skint as yer like, and I bet you could do with a bit of help making a few bob.’ He tightened his grip as she tried to shrug him off. ‘There’ll be a good Friday-night crowd Shaftesbury Avenue way. If you get in some earlies, we can get back home and have a nice fish supper and a couple o’ bottles.’ He nuzzled her cheek. ‘After that I’ll show yer just how much I missed yer.’