Kay Brellend - The Street

Bert put the baby down on the bed next to Margaret. ‘I’m off to try ‘n’ find some work,’ he said bluntly. ‘I’ll take a job clearin’ pots in a pub if it comes to it.’

‘That’s what it always comes to,’ his wife muttered acidly at his back as he limped out of the room.

‘You want any work, duck?’ Tilly settled herself on the bed next to Margaret Lovat. ‘Might be able to help, y’know.’

‘What’s goin’?’ The woman raised her eyes and pushed a stand of lank brown hair behind her ears.

‘Might be able to find you something this afternoon if you like. It’s graft but better’n nothing if you need a few bob urgent.’

‘Washing?’ the woman guessed with a dead-eyed look.

Tilly nodded. ‘Me sister Fran’s work but she ain’t fit and her client wants this back by seven tonight. Well-to-do lady she is, out Tufnell Park. Might lead somewhere.’

Margaret Lovat turned a jaundiced eye on Tilly. ‘You reckon I’m daft enough to believe I’ve got a chance of taking yer sister’s best touch?’

Tilly crossed her arms and gave Margaret a keener appraisal. So she wasn’t the mouse she’d seemed. She’d come back with that quick enough. ‘Take it or leave it.’ Tilly stood up. ‘No skin off my nose either way. Ain’t my client.’

‘I’ll do it.’

‘Come next door when yer ready. I’ll show you what’s gotta be done.’

Margaret Lovat followed her to the door. ‘Where’s the privy?’

‘Out back. Go down the stairs and do a left till you come to a door; that’ll take you out to the courtyard.’ She made to go then hesitated and said with a hint of apology, ‘I’ll prepare you fer the state of it. It’s full of Mr Brown. I’ve been on at Mr Keane fer weeks to get a plumber to fix it.’ She nodded to the landing. ‘There’s the sink. Shared with a couple called Johnson. You won’t have no trouble off them. He’s got reg’lar work on the dust and she hardly comes out the room. Got bad arthritis,’ she added by way of explanation. ‘Back slip room’s just been took by a single lady. Don’t see nuthin’ of her. Think she’s a waitress up west and that’s why she comes in all hours of the night.’ Tilly raised her eyebrows at Margaret in a way that fully exhibited her suspicions.

‘How nice,’ Margaret sighed with weary sarcasm. ‘Stuck between a totter and a prossy.’

‘She’s a looker too, is Miss Kerr, so keep an eye on yer old man.’ Tilly issued the warning with a grin.

‘Ain’t worried about him!’ Margaret snorted derisively. ‘She’s welcome to him. Give me a break at least.’

‘Yeah . . . I noticed he don’t hang about,’ Tilly said, amused. ‘Not much of a gap between your two youngest, I’d say.’

‘Thirteen months,’ Margaret sighed. ‘Little Lizzie’s just three months. I’m bleedin’ knackered, I can tell yer.’

The two women exchanged a look of cautious camaraderie.

‘It’s me eldest, Danny, I’m thinkin’ of. He’s fifteen next birthday ‘n’ comin’ of age, alright. The boy’s always got his hand stuck down the front of his trousers.’

Tilly cackled a laugh. ‘I noticed he’s a strapping lad.’

‘He is,’ Margaret said, her face softening with pride. ‘Nothing like his old man. Takes after my side. Me dad was six foot and built like a brick shit house. Danny’s bright too and was doing well in school till . . .’ She shrugged and turned away.

‘All gone sour for yers in Essex?’

‘Yeah . . . won’t be going back there no more.’

Tilly looked at Margaret’s averted face and felt sorry for the woman. Obviously there was a tale of woe to be told. But then everyone in Campbell Road had one of those. Tilly felt sorry for every poor sod that turned up in The Bunk looking for somewhere cheap to stay and a job of sorts to keep the kids fed. Sympathy was of no bloody use when what was needed was hard cash and a bit of luck for a change.

‘Yeah . . . well . . . anythin’ else you need to know, I’m just next door.’ She wiped her hands on her pinafore. ‘See yer downstairs in a bit, alright?’

Chapter Four Chapter Four Chapter Five Chapter Six Chapter Seven Chapter Eight Chapter Nine Getting Work: 1914–1917 Chapter Ten Chapter Eleven Chapter Twelve Chapter Thirteen Chapter Fourteen Chapter Fifteen Chapter Sixteen Chapter Seventeen Chapter Eighteen Chapter Nineteen Chapter Twenty Chapter Twenty-One Chapter Twenty-Two Chapter Twenty-Three Chapter Twenty-Four Chapter Twenty-Five Chapter Twenty-Six Chapter Twenty-Seven Getting Out: 1917–1918 Chapter Twenty-Eight Chapter Twenty-Nine Chapter Thirty Chapter Thirty-One Chapter Thirty-Two Epilogue - Summer 1922 Pictures of The Street Acknowledgements About the Author Author’s Note Copyright About the Publisher

‘Gonna let me in, then?’ Tilly asked impatiently as her sister simply gazed at her. She’d come to tell Fran she’d found someone to take on her washing.

Slowly Fran stood aside and Tilly swept in. Fran’s bruises had almost disappeared, but a sallow colouring around her eyes and jaw was a reminder of the beating she’d taken. Her arms were healing more slowly and the muscles were still stiff and sore from being brutally treated.

‘What you looking so shifty about?’ Tilly asked bluntly.

Fran simply shrugged.

‘A new family’s moving in next door. They’ve not got a pot ter piss in. The woman wants work urgent so she’s doing your washing. We’ll get it finished and back to Tufnell in plenty of time.’

Fran gave a weak smile and muttered her thanks.

Tilly sensed something was not right and then her nose told her what it was. ‘He’s been in ’ere, ain’t he?’ she accused, taking another sniff. ‘I can smell bacca.’

‘Don’t go mad, Til,’ Fran started to wheedle but was soon interrupted.

‘Yeah, don’t go mad, Til,’ Jimmy Wild echoed, emerging from the back slip room where he’d been hiding himself. He walked closer and slung an arm about his wife’s frail shoulders. ‘We’ve made up, ain’t we, gel? I’m back home where I should be with me family.’

‘He’s said he’s sorry and he won’t do it no more. The kids need their dad.’ Fran was unable to meet Tilly’s eyes and stared at the floor.

‘You fuckin’ idiot,’ Tilly exploded. ‘How many times have you heard him say sorry ‘n’ it won’t happen again?’

Fran narrowed her eyes on her sister. ‘I can’t manage on me own. I got kids and debts.’

‘Yeah, ‘n’ he’s gonna add to them for you,’ Tilly said on a harsh laugh. ‘Just like before.’

She gave her brother-in-law a hate-filled look. He winked back, making her fight down her need to pounce on him and punch the smirk from his face.

Jack Keiver was just at that moment on his way up the stairs. Seeing the door open to his sister-in-law’s room he poked his head in to say hello. The greeting died on his lips. The scene in front of him made him hasten further into the room. He drew Tilly’s arm through his in an act of restraint and solidarity. He’d immediately guessed what had gone on. His brother-in-law had managed to squirm his way back home with lies and promises.

‘Come on, Til, leave it. We’ve been through all this before. Let ’em stew. It’s their business.’

For a moment Tilly stood undecided before allowing her husband to lead her to the door. Jack was right, but still she felt betrayed and angered by her sister’s weakness. She felt now more inclined to shake her than punch him.

Jack turned and looked at Jimmy. He raised a threatening finger. ‘We ain’t finished. I ain’t forgot you tried to take a swing at my missus. And all on account of some poxy brass.’

‘I was wrong.’ Jimmy gestured an apology with his flat palms. ‘I swear on the Holy Bible it won’t happen no more. All in the past, mate. I’m back and it’s gonna be alright this time.’