Buch lesen: «The Campbell Road Girls»

Chapter One
September 1930

‘If ... if ... if! I’m fooking sick of hearing about if!’

Reg Donovan shoved over two battered chairs as he strode towards the door. He’d hoped to escape further hostility between himself and the irate redheaded woman confronting him, arms akimbo. But Matilda Keiver was having none of that. Today she was prepared for him trying to take the coward’s way out. In a trice she was between him and the exit, though the exertion left her wincing and gasping. He’d listen to some more of what she’d got to say if it killed her. And it was what had nearly killed her that caused them constantly to scrap.

‘You might be fucking sick of hearing about it, Reg Donovan, but I ain’t,’ she wheezed. ‘Ain’t you in pain every minute of the day, is it? Ain’t you stuck indoors most o’ the time ’cos it’s an ordeal just getting down the stairs to nip to the shop. I’m suffering something chronic, and though it ain’t all your fault I blame you fer a good part of what happened.’

‘I can’t be having this argument over and over again wid yer, Tilly.’ Reg’s defeated plea for a truce had thickened his Irish brogue.

‘If you’d been where yer should’ve been that night, I wouldn’t be in the state I’m in, would I? Deny it, can you?’

‘I can’t! I know it ... you know it!’ Reg’s voice again thundered at the ceiling. ‘But what can I do about it now?’ His hands balled into fists close to his contorted features. ‘Give over about it, woman. I can’t stand having it thrown in me fooking face a hundred times a day.’

‘You can’t stand it ’cos it makes you feel guilty.’ Tilly was using the wall as support, whilst teetering on her toes in an attempt to keep her weight forward and away from the ache in her back.

Two years ago she’d come out of hospital after a stay of five and a half months following a dreadful fall that had almost killed her. It had finished off the man who’d deliberately sent them both hurtling out of a first-floor window in Campbell Road to certain death, impaled on railings below. Jimmy Wild had expired almost instantly, but then he’d already been mortally wounded when he’d turned up, intending to take Matilda to hell with him. Despite several broken bones and an iron spike piercing her waist, Tilly had miraculously lived to tell the tale ... over and over again, according to Reg. And Reg had had a bellyful of hearing it.

Despite her extraordinary luck in having survived, eating away at Tilly like a cancer was the knowledge that if Reg, the man she’d hoped to marry shortly after that stormy summer evening, had done what he’d set out to do and fetched them home a couple of brown ales, she’d have completely escaped Jimmy Wild’s lethal malice. Jimmy had always been a coward when it came to a fair fight with a man; he would have crawled away to die alone had Reg been the one to open the door to him that night. But instead of joining her in a drink at home the selfish git had forgotten about her brown ales and gone to the Duke with a pal for a few whiskies.

‘You got to admit now, you let Jimmy in that night, Tilly. No point kidding yourself over it.’ Reg had edged closer to the door and casually manoeuvred a hand in readiness to yank it open. He felt sorry for Tilly, but not a lot more, and he knew pity wasn’t enough to keep him with her. At forty-nine she was a decade older than he was. Once the age gap had been unnoticeable – in fact at times he’d had trouble keeping up with her – but now she looked her age. The stiffness in her bones following the accident sometimes had her hobbling like a pensioner instead of sashaying about as she had a few years previously. She’d taken a few tumbles since she’d been out of hospital, which had set back her recovery, but she was too proud and stubborn to heed anybody’s warning to take things easy or accept help with her chores.

The good times had gone; the only passion the engaged couple now shared was during fights and arguments. She wasn’t even a drinking partner for him any more. She’d been a patient for a long time in a Spartan hospital, and enforced abstinence had curbed Tilly’s addiction to heavy drinking. To dull her aches and pains she’d down a few tots at home so she didn’t have to smarten up and drag herself out. But Reg considered himself still a young man. He needed a bit of a social life and a breath of fresh air outside of the stinking room on the first floor of the tenement house in Campbell Road that they called home. Reg knew he needed to get away from her, not only so he could calm down, but to decide whether he ever wanted to come back. If it took a bit of honest cruelty to cut himself free he was prepared to use it.

‘You brought a lot of this on yourself, Tilly. You’d known for years that Jimmy Wild was no good. You told me yourself he was an evil fooker. Yet you invited him in.’ Reg pointed accusingly at her. ‘You’re a stupid woman and you’ve got nobody to blame for the state you’re in but yourself. It’s time to face up to it.’

It was the first time Tilly had heard that from him and shock dropped her jaw. Usually Reg pinned the blame for her attempted murder squarely on Jimmy and recounted what he’d like to do to the bastard to pay him back, if only he could.

She whacked away his blunt finger quivering close to her nose. ‘I reckon you’re at fault and you’d better fucking face up to it!’ she suddenly roared, her blue eyes almost popping from her head in fury. ‘And if yer don’t like hearing the truth of it you know where the bleedin’ door is.’

‘Well, if you’ll move aside I’ll be out and leave you in peace.’

Matilda felt her guts tighten; he meant it this time. He wanted to go, not just to cool down, but for good. She flung back her auburn head, exposing silver wings close to her temples where her fiery locks were fading. For a moment she was close to capitulation and apology but her pride tilted up her chin an inch higher and she shifted aside. ‘Go on then, get out and good riddance.’ She limped back towards the wooden table, picked up her cold cup of tea and gulped at it. She didn’t even turn her head when she heard the door bang shut.

‘He’ll be back, Mum, when he’s had time to calm down.’

‘He won’t be back.’ Tilly’s dull eyes settled on the groceries her daughter Alice had tipped onto the table but she didn’t elaborate on how she knew she’d been abandoned.

She’d heard Reg creep in a few nights ago and gather together his meagre bits and pieces. She’d pretended to be asleep although an inner voice had been urging her to rear up haughtily onto an elbow and bawl at him to sling his hook. She’d lain there undecided before wearily concluding she’d no more stomach than he had for another slanging match. So she’d listened to his soft footfalls, and doors and drawers opening and closing, until the key had again grated in the lock and he’d taken himself off for good. As the tears had trickled to dampen her pillow she’d impatiently dashed them away, and with them the suspicions that, if she didn’t know deep down that he’d had a point when he’d put the blame on her, she’d have struggled up and flayed him with her tongue.

If only she’d locked the door and turned a deaf ear to Jimmy’s weasel pleading that night, two and a half years ago, she’d still be the Tilly of old: confident and bold, with the will and energy to turn her hand to anything to earn a few bob. Prior to that calamity she’d had a personal taste of Jimmy Wild’s brutality, yet she’d opened up to him and once more suffered the devastating consequences.

‘Did you remember to get the bread from Travis’s bakery? You know I only like his loaves.’ Matilda banished miserable memories to prod at a crusty Coburg, testing its freshness.

‘Yeah,’ Alice sighed. ‘Got it from Travis.’ She sat down at the table adjacent to her mother and plonked an elbow down, supporting her chin in a cupped palm. ‘D’you want to go for a walk today to get a bit of exercise? I haven’t got to be back till four o’clock. Josh is doing a late shift at Houndsditch warehouse and is indoors with the kids.’

About to snap she couldn’t be bothered Tilly gazed quietly at the cup between her palms. She knew she should get out instead of mouldering away inside, feeling sorry for herself, day after day. She gave her daughter a quirk of a smile and a jerky nod, accepting the invitation for an outing. Tilly knew she was fortunate to have daughters who put themselves out for her. But displaying her gratitude didn’t come easily, as Reg would have readily testified.

Having made a laborious descent of the rickety stairs, Alice assisting her mother every step of the way, the two women emerged on to Campbell Road into autumn sunlight. As though several neighbours had foreseen Matilda’s rare appearance they immediately converged on her. Beattie Evans abandoned her conversation with a friend and came straight over. Margaret Lovat diverted from her march to Smithie’s shop and headed her way too. Then Connie Whitton caught sight of Matilda, ceased trying to sweet-talk her rent collector into being lenient till next week, and trotted towards the group.

‘Look a mile better’n when I last saw you,’ Beattie announced with a beam.

The trio of neighbours stood eyeing Matilda up and down.

‘Don’t feel it,’ Matilda grumbled.

‘No, you do, honest, Mrs K,’ Connie piped up. ‘Nice day ’n’ all for a bit of a walk about. Where you off to, then?’

‘Might take a stroll around the park,’ Alice answered brightly.

‘Ain’t goin’ that far.’ Matilda was immediately contrary.

‘Yes, you are,’ Alice countered firmly, rolling her eyes in exasperation. ‘You’re out now and going to stay out for a while. Being cooped up in there all day is enough to send anyone bonkers. Anyhow, you know what the doctor’s told you: you got to keep moving about or the stiffness won’t ease off.’

‘Need anything up the shop?’ Margaret Lovat offered. ‘Bring it down for you later if you do, Til.’

Matilda shook her head; she didn’t like relying on her neighbours although she knew their offers of help were genuine. But it was her daughters’ duty to make sure she was all right. ‘Alice just got me some stuff, thanks anyhow.’ It was an abrupt answer.

‘I’d come for a stroll ’n’ all, to keep you company, but I’m gonna have that fat git Podge on me ear’ole in a minute ’cos of the rent.’ Connie scowled over a shoulder.

‘Bleedin’ hell,’ Matilda muttered. ‘That don’t sound too nice, Con ...’

All the women guffawed, even Connie. Beattie gave Tilly’s shoulder an appreciative pat and wiped her eyes. It was good to know that Tilly Keiver still had her sense of humour, despite what she’d been through.

It was well known locally that Connie, currently working as a waitress, was not averse to going on the game when she needed cash. It was also known that she’d let Podge Peters into her room for payment in kind when she was really desperate. And she wasn’t alone in that. Even married women classed as respectable were not beyond opening up to Podge behind their husbands’ backs when things were really grim and they were determined to keep a roof over their kids’ heads. With two million people unemployed there was no realistic chance of earning the money any other way.

The women proceeded up the road together at a slow pace so Tilly wouldn’t feel under pressure to keep up. Beattie drifted away with a wave after a few yards, having seen that her neighbour was impatiently pacing in the hope of resuming where they’d left off gossiping.

‘Oh ... ’ere ’e is again,’ Connie muttered as a fat, florid man emerged from a doorway and stared determinedly at her. She sighed. ‘Better go ’n’ see him or he’ll be round hammering on me door later.’

‘Good luck with that,’ Tilly said drolly as the petite blonde walked off.

‘You heard from your Lucy?’ Margaret Lovat blurted out as the three women ambled on.

‘Not for a week or two,’ Matilda answered. Her eldest daughter, Sophy, was married to Margaret’s eldest son. They’d started at Lockley Grange during the Great War and had been there ever since. Four years ago, when Lucy, Matilda’s youngest, turned fourteen, Sophy had got her a job in service there too. Then Danny had done the same for his brother, Timothy, so the Lovats and the Keivers were closely connected as well as being neighbours. When news came from ‘the kids’ in Essex, whether it came to Margaret or to Tilly, it was usually shared around.

‘You heard anything from them?’ Alice asked, glancing at Margaret.

‘Come on, out with it,’ Matilda duly prompted her neighbour, having noticed the woman looking uncomfortable. Nothing escaped Matilda Keiver; she might be a bit battered about the body but her mind was as sharp as ever. ‘If you’ve got a bit of gossip, let’s hear it, good or bad.’

‘Just ... Tim wrote and said he reckons your Lucy’s getting itchy feet. Said he’s gonna miss her if she goes. Reckon my Tim’s always been a bit sweet on your Lucy.’ Margaret frowned at Tilly. ‘Don’t you say I told you none of this. ‘S’pect Lucy’s gonna speak up in her own time if she’s planning on a move elsewhere.’ Margaret halted as they drew level with a gloomy tenement, similar to the one in which Matilda had rooms. The Lovat family were at least housed closer to what was known as the ‘better’ end of Campbell Road.

‘My Luce is too cute to give up a job as good as that,’ Tilly stated. ‘She got early promotion to lady’s maid a short while ago when her senior left.’

‘Yeah, course,’ Margaret replied, and quickly changed the subject. ‘Seen anything of Reg, Til?’

‘No, and don’t want to neither,’ Tilly growled and, grabbing Alice by the arm, she urged her on.

It was only by leaning heavily on Alice that Tilly made it back up the stairs after their constitutional. By the time they were on the landing and unlocking her door Tilly was breathing heavily and frowning in pain.

‘You’ve got to come and live with me for a while, Mum,’ Alice gently insisted as she helped Tilly to sit down at the table. ‘While Reg is away you’ll never manage on your own. You’ve got to come and live with me and Josh in Wood Green—’

‘Ain’t going nowhere, so you can shut that up,’ Tilly tersely interrupted. ‘Told you lots o’ times, ain’t I, the Bunk’s fer me, cradle to grave?’

‘Well, you’ll be in your grave sooner than you think if you take another tumble down those stairs. And it’s on the cards, ’cos I can’t be here every minute of the day fetching you in stuff.’ Alice inspected the cups in the bowl to see if they’d been washed up and were ready to use. ‘Sooner or later you’re going to want something and try and go out and get it yourself. You know how impatient you can be.’

‘Got Beattie ’n’ Margaret if I’m desperate,’ Tilly returned harshly.

‘Yeah,’ Alice said drily, ‘But you never take up their offers of help, do you?’

‘Haven’t needed to. And I can yell out o’ the winder at people, if needs be. Don’t think I’m relyin’ on you ’n’ Beth to that extent.’ Matilda looked a bit sheepish because she knew that last statement was completely untrue. Bethany lived closer than Alice but had just had her second child, Joey, so wasn’t able to help out as often as Alice. ‘Can get about on me own if it comes to it ... just slowly,’ Matilda mumbled.

‘You’ve got to come to mine for a while,’ Alice insisted, setting the cups on the table in readiness for tea. ‘If you really want to come back to this fleapit when you’re better ...’ She shrugged as she glanced about with distaste at the room in which her mother chose to live. She and her sisters had been brought up in a couple of equally squalid rooms. That tenement house had been near the junction with Seven Sisters Road, at the rougher end of the street. Tilly had moved in the right direction and her home was now situated close to Paddington Street, which sliced Campbell Road into two distinct halves. As far as all the Keiver girls were concerned, Campbell Road, top or bottom, was a slum. Sophy, Alice, Beth and Lucy had promised themselves from an early age to escape the Bunk, as the road was nicknamed due to its proliferation of dosshouses. And they’d all made good on their vows.

‘Ain’t going nowhere,’ Tilly enunciated, planting her palms on the tabletop and leaning towards her daughter. ‘And no time fer tea. You’d best be off home right now if you don’t want Josh to be late getting hisself to work.’

Alice buttoned her coat with a sigh at her mother’s curt dismissal. It was better to leave her to stew in her own juice than end up bickering with her.

‘D’you reckon Lucy might be getting itchy feet?’ During their stroll Alice had avoided discussing the subject. She’d listened to Matilda puffing and panting with the effort of walking along so hadn’t wanted to put any additional pressure on her. Alice had mulled things over in her mind as she’d kicked through autumn leaves in Finsbury Park. And she knew that, quiet as her mother had been beside her, she was also brooding on what Margaret Lovat had told them about Lucy.

‘She’d best not have got herself sacked,’ Matilda replied grumpily. ‘Or she’ll have me to answer to.’

‘Lucy wouldn’t get herself sacked, Mum,’ Alice said with a rueful smile. She liked to think she knew her little sister better than anyone. If Lucy was moving on, Alice reckoned it was because she’d chosen to do so. At present Sophy and Lucy visited only about twice a year and, whereas Alice accepted that Sophy and Danny were now settled elsewhere, she’d harboured a hope that Little Luce, still single and fancy-free, might one day return to London to work so they could see more of one another.

But her youngest sister wouldn’t want to come back to Campbell Road to live. That was certain.