Bourbon Creams and Tattered Dreams Page 38

  ‘I think he’s still here. He went on earlier.’ Percy wrinkled his nose. ‘The boss is a soft touch, still gives him the odd spot, you know, for old time’s sake. I’ll go and get him, love, you help yerself to another cup o’ tea.’

  When he’d gone she hugged herself tight, praying Wally would still be here. She’d had no plan in coming to the Collins, other than finding somewhere safe to wait while throwing the Sabinis’ men off her trail. She could have just asked Percy to get her a taxi, but now she knew Wally was here she’d feel safer going home with him.

  In a few minutes Percy was back, with Wally, who was struggling in the narrow corridor with his unicycle packed away in its carrying case. Before he could ask any questions, she explained she’d been out with her Italian friends in Clerkenwell and needed an escort home. His eyes widened with understanding.

  ‘And your friend from America?’

  Matty nodded, grateful that he’d understood.

  ‘Can you flag us a cab, Perce?’

  *

  When they were safely inside the taxi, Matty slumped against Wally, leaning her head on one of his sloping shoulders. She let out a groan. ‘Thank God you were there tonight, Wally. I was just about done.’

  He made her recount the day’s events, listening without comment until the part where she stabbed Frank with the stiletto, when he let out a long whistle.

  ‘Matty, love, you was lucky, very lucky. He sounds a nasty bastard and it looks like he’s got the Clerkenwell mob in his pocket too. But you’re all right now, love, I’ll get you back to Tom. At least now he won’t have to sort Rossi out.’

  Matty didn’t have the strength to argue. She just said, ‘Tom’s an office worker these days, Wally. Frank would have ate him for breakfast.’

  Wally patted her hand. ‘There’s more to Tom than you know.’

  ‘I know he’s not a villain.’ Matty let the swaying taxi cab lull her into a numbness that she hoped would drive away the memory of Frank’s last gasps.

  ‘Did you know my old dad used to run the Elephant Boys?’ Wally asked.

  ‘No, I didn’t! I can’t imagine that.’

  ‘Well, he did. Retired from that game now o’ course, but he wanted me to follow in his footsteps. He kicked me up the stairs when I told him I was going on the stage. We came to an understanding in the end, though. But you know who he tipped to take over from him one day?’

  ‘Who?’

  ‘Your Tom.’

  Matty gave an incredulous laugh. ‘Well, if that’s true I’ve got a bloody bad taste in men! I’ve just killed one gangster boyfriend and you’re telling me the other’s just as vicious?’ Matty could barely believe it.

  ‘No! Not vicious. No, my old dad said Tom had the brain for it. Your Clerkenwell and Whitechapel mobs – they’ve got plenty of brawn, but they ain’t got the savvy, not like the Elephant Boys, and that’s what Dad saw in Tom. He said to me, that boy’ll run rings round the other mobs, given a bit of training.’

  ‘But him and Freddie got out,’ Matty said, sure that her faith in Tom hadn’t been unfounded.

  ‘Dad let them go. Usually you’re not let go. Once you’re in, you’re in for life.’

  ‘That’s what Frank said, you can’t walk away, ever. So why did your dad make an exception with Tom?’

  ‘Said he’d got too much heart, it’d get ’em all killed one day. But he always had a soft spot for Tom.’

  ‘And you walked away too? I never heard you talk about it, Wally.’

  And then Matty realized that her friend Winnie must know, though she’d never mentioned it.

  ‘Walked away? Cycled more like.’ He chuckled and patted the unicycle in its case beside him. ‘I remember that day, all three of us – me, Tom and Freddie – walking past the Elephant theatre and Dad calling after us, Go on, fuck off, useless bastards the lot of yer. Broke his heart and all I could think of was going round the stage door of the Elephant to get an audition!’

  Matty had to smile. Wally was a born trouper.

  ‘But if Tom’s so soft, what makes you think he could have handled Frank?’

  ‘He told me at his dad’s funeral. He had a plan to see off Frank. He never said what it was, just that I’d need to be on call and that we were all going back to being Elephant Boys.’

  ‘Didn’t he say any more than that?’

  Wally shook his head. ‘Couldn’t talk much.’

  ‘How did he seem? I should have been there.’

  Wally put a hand over hers. ‘Nothing much you could’ve done, love. You know what funerals are like.’

  They were driving through the deserted City now, passing darkened banks and blank-windowed offices, weaving down past the Monument to London Bridge and finally across the inky Thames.

  ‘Wally?’ she said suddenly. ‘What were you doing at the Collins tonight?’

  ‘These days the old insurance lark ain’t much cop. Who’s got any spare money for the insurance man? I’m lucky if I pick up a penny policy here and there to bury ’em. ’Course I make a bit from the knocked-off stuff, but with Win’s mum to look after we can do with the extra. But to be honest, love, I’d do it for nothing. I love it. Get’s in your blood, don’t it, darlin’?’

  ‘It does, Wally, it does. But I’m wondering now, if I hadn’t started singing again in the Blue Lotus whether Frank would have found me so easily.’

  ‘Oh, he would have found you, sweetheart.’

  ‘I suppose so. He wasn’t the type to let go.’

  ‘Well, Matty, I think he’s let go now.’

  *

  Matty had never been happier to cross the river. Entering Bermondsey felt like returning to the safety of a walled fortress. Wally kept the taxi running and she heard his whispered brief explanation to Tom that she’d had a run-in with her ‘American friend’. But she felt he must be talking about someone else. Was she really the one who’d slashed and stabbed and caused so much blood to flow? The taxi pulled away and Tom gathered her up into his arms, carrying her straight to his bedroom. He tried to lie her down, but her arms were looped about his neck and she found herself unable to let go. With her head buried into his chest, she clung on tight, waiting for her trembling to subside.

  ‘Oh, Tom, I think I’ve done something terrible, I need to—’

  But he put a finger to her lips. ‘Shhh, don’t try to talk, you can tell me everything later, I just need to clean up these wounds, my darling, and then you can sleep. All you need to do is lie here for a bit while I get some hot water.’

  He prised her arms away and laid her gently on the bed. His face was drawn and grey, his brow etched with anxiety. ‘Lie quietly, sweetheart,’ he said softly. ‘I’ll be back in a minute.’

  He came back with disinfectant and a bowl of warm water. Taking one hand and then another he gently eased off the rings from her swollen fingers. Light from a bedside lamp revealed bruised knuckles swollen to twice their size. She winced and cried out as each ring came off, exposing the grazes and cuts she’d suffered while pummelling Frank. He examined the torn nails and bloody fingertips, which she supposed she’d got from scrabbling at the car-boot lock. Taking each finger, he first bathed and then with soothing sounds covered the cuts with salve, before bandaging her hands.

  Then he began tracing the bruises on her neck and chin and she saw his mouth tighten.

  ‘My poor darling. I’ll kill the bastard...’ He choked.

  Matty shuddered and in a hoarse whisper replied, ‘You won’t need to, Tom. I already have.’

  ‘You’ve killed him? How?’ Then before she could answer, he said, ‘Good. If he’s dead... good.’

  He lay on the bed and held her so tightly in his arms that her bruised body rebelled and a cry escaped from her lips.

  ‘Matty, I’m so sorry. What did he do to you?’

  Tom’s voice sounded small and faraway. She knew he dreaded hearing the answer, but he would have to know. So in the soft light from the lamp, grateful that she could lean her head on hi
s shoulder and not have to look him in the eyes, she unfolded her story.

  When she’d finished, he kissed her tenderly. ‘Oh, Matty, to think I could have lost you. If you’ve killed him, then you don’t shed a tear, hear me? It was you or him.’

  ‘Tom, should I go to the police, before they find out?’

  For a moment he was silent. ‘Chances are they won’t find out, Matty. He’s on the run, can you see the Clerkenwell mob reporting it? For now, let’s just be glad you’re alive. We can worry about what to do next tomorrow.’

  She nestled more deeply into his arms and he stroked her hair until she fell into a sleep deep enough to escape her own warring terror and relief at what she’d done.

  *

  In the morning she awoke alone. It took a few seconds to register where she was. She felt the space next to her in the bed. It was cold. Where was he? She propped herself up, noticing new centres of pain across her shoulders and along her shins, grazed when they’d dragged her into the car. She looked down at herself, still fully clothed in Queenie’s ruined dogtooth-check suit, then her eye fell upon the fedora, which had saved her life. Tom had placed it on his chest of drawers. Blood caked the brim.

  Matty groaned at the enormity of what had happened. She had killed a man. No matter that he would have done the same to her in a heartbeat, had she not cooperated. She thought back on all the innocent trail of decisions, beginning with that fateful one to go to America, which had added up to the horror of last night, and which she could never now escape.

  A loud drumming interrupted her thoughts. Rain hurled itself at Tom’s basement window. The room darkened as the heavens opened and a leaden light descended over her. She shivered and then froze, suddenly alert. She’d heard a noise coming from outside the bedroom door.

  ‘Tom!’ she called. But there was no answer, just muffled sounds. Her heart was suddenly drumming along with the rain. Senses fizzing, she sat on the edge of the bed. ‘Tom? Is that you?’ She jumped as a loud clatter was followed by an expletive. Launching herself out of the bed, she scrabbled for the key to the bedroom door, but there was none. Like a trapped, hunted animal, she hadn’t stopped to think or reason – instinct was motivating her. She’d even forgotten that Frank was dead, that he was in a place where he could no longer harm her. She stood with her ear to the door and heard a tinkling noise. Was it breaking glass? There was no escape but out of the basement window. She ran to it and shoved up the casement. Putting one leg through, she straddled the sill and was about to slip over into the airey when the door burst open.

  ‘Gawd’s sake, get yourself back in here, you’re getting drowned!’

  ‘Nellie!’ Matty sat astride the sill, soaked by the pounding rain. ‘You frightened the life out of me! What are you doing here?’

  She curled herself back into the room, feeling foolish and relieved.

  ‘Tom’s got the big show on at the library hall, showing your Modern Woman films, says he couldn’t miss it. But he asked me to come and keep an eye on you. Looks like a good job he did.’ She put the tray of tea and toast she was holding on to the bedside table and opened her arms wide. ‘Come here.’

  Matty ran to Nellie, who enfolded her in that familiar, long-remembered safe embrace.

  ‘He’s told me what’s happened,’ Nellie said simply.

  ‘Everything?’

  ‘Yes, love, everything.’

  ‘But I didn’t want you and Sam involved! The less you both know the better.’

  ‘Perhaps you’d have done better to tell us more and protect us less. What good’s it having a family if you don’t let them help you, eh, Matty, love?’

  But Matty shook her head. ‘I couldn’t be responsible for bringing someone as dangerous as Frank into your lives. If I’d put your boys in danger, well...’ She shuddered.

  ‘Life’s full of danger, you can’t protect them forever,’ Nellie said matter-of-factly and urged Matty back into bed.

  ‘Here, drink your tea while it’s hot. I’ll get you a towel. I’ve brought you some of your own clothes and I never forgot your war paint!’

  Trust Nellie to realize how Matty relied upon her ‘armour’. A fine frock and a carefully made-up face could always boost her courage, on stage and off. Nellie was one of the few who knew the person buried deep behind the facade. She needed no reminding that little Matty Gilbie of Beatson Street was still in there somewhere and that today she would need all the guns in her armoury to face what was to come.

  With her tangled hair combed out and styled as best she could, she dressed in the green and white print dress Nellie had chosen for her. Mercifully she’d brought a white scarf too, which Matty wrapped around her throat to hide some of her bruising. The green edge-to-edge jacket with long sleeves and a pair of white gloves would cover up the rest of her wounds. Once she’d dusted her face with powder and rouge most of the outward signs of her ordeal had disappeared. She tried to squash the sick fear that the police would come knocking at any moment and turned as bright a face to Nellie as she could.

  ‘Well, Nellie, love, I suppose I’m ready to face the world. What do you think?’ she said, presenting herself to Nellie.

  ‘You look lovely, but Tom said you wasn’t to go out!’

  Matty shook her head. ‘Oh no. I’ve had just about enough of men locking me up lately. I worked bloody hard on those Modern Woman films and I’m not missing their first screening, I don’t care what happens afterwards,’ she said firmly. And, turning to the mirror, she adjusted her close-fitting green hat, then pulled on her gloves.

  ‘Come on, Nellie, you can be my bodyguard.’ Matty smiled. Then, suddenly aware that she no longer needed one, she felt a guilty relief flooding through her. Frank was dead. Frank was gone. Whatever consequences came, at least she’d enjoy her freedom while it lasted.

  Nellie had taken the day off from the various jobs that she juggled during the week. It couldn’t have been easy. Some were cash in hand and Matty knew the money was necessary to bolster Sam’s wages.

  ‘Nellie, if you need to get to work, I’ll be all right,’ Matty offered, as they walked along Tooley Street.

  ‘I’m not letting you out of my sight! Besides, I wouldn’t mind going – they sent me and Sam an invitation to the film premiere.’

  When they entered the large library hall it was almost full. There was an excited bustle and chatter. She looked for Tom, but could only see D.M. and Birdy in conversation with the mayor. Then she spotted Tom. He was setting up the gramophone that would provide the commentary for the film. Tom jumped down from the stage and Matty saw him checking the extra speakers brought in for the occasion. He glanced up and a flush of what she knew was anger was the only sign that he had seen her. He turned his back to her and, after a few words with Plum at the projector, he strolled over to where she and Nellie were looking for seats.

  ‘Don’t blame me!’ Nellie told him before he could say anything. ‘You know what she’s like.’

  Tom laid a hand on Nellie’s shoulder. ‘Don’t worry, Nell.’ He turned a stony face to Matty and said in a tight, low voice. ‘What do you think you’re doing, Matty? You came home half dead! You should be resting – to say nothing of who might be on the lookout for you!’

  ‘Who? He’s gone. Why would they come looking for me now?’

  Tom raised his eyes. ‘Matty, there might be consequences.’ He shot a look over his shoulder. ‘The Sabinis might not take kindly to you bumping off their partner!’

  But at that moment the lights dimmed and D.M. made his way to the stage. She and Nellie found seats near the aisle as D.M. praised the work of his film team in ‘bringing the Bermondsey health films into the talkies era with their innovative and relevant films for single and working women’. He went on to scatter some impressive statistics at his audience. How the public health gospel spread throughout Bermondsey halved the infant mortality rate, slashed the TB rate and radically reduced instances of preventable diseases. ‘Due in no small part to the Bermondsey boroug
h’s health propaganda films!’

  Here he was encouraged to end, with sustained applause and a stamping of feet from the Bermondsey extras worthy of the tuppeny rush at the Star. D.M. laughed good-naturedly and held up his hands. ‘Let the films, quite literally, speak for themselves!’

  The hall went dark, the screen flickered to life and there was Matty in bed, yawning and rubbing her eyes, looking convincingly reluctant to get out from under the warm covers and begin her first day at Peek Frean’s. Matty got a reassuring amount of laughter in all the right places and when they reached the scenes inside Peek’s Matty heard cries of recognition. ‘Look, Win, that’s us!’ And looking round, she spotted Winnie and some of the Peek’s Tiller Girls, enjoying their screen debuts.

  She caught Winnie’s eye and waved, and when her friend mouthed, ‘You all right?’ Matty knew Walter had told her everything. She sank back into the seat. She wasn’t all right. She was a murderess. And if she wasn’t facing hanging, then, as Tom had pointed out, the Sabinis might want to inflict their own form of justice. She could see the headline now. Cockney Canary Slain in Gangland War! Perhaps she should just go to Tower Bridge police station and hope they believed she’d killed Frank in self-defence.

  It was impossible for her to concentrate on the films she’d worked so hard on. But their effect on the audience was palpable – not only on those who’d appeared in them, but also on the officials sitting in the front row. Matty could see them engrossed in the storylines, which were something quite different from the usual educational approach. These films had characters who tugged at the heartstrings and drew on the audience’s sense of familiarity. The women in the audience were thinking of their own struggles in keeping a home and family going.

  Although most of her was absent, her thoughts returning again and again to Frank’s bloodsoaked face, in the middle of the Modern Woman and Home film there came a scene that completely disarmed her. It was the one they’d filmed with a homeless family living underneath the railway arches. Matty was holding the baby, a tiny, wizened little boy with an old man’s face, wrapped in the thinnest of blankets. She was looking down into its large sunken eyes and she remembered now the feeling of connection, the impossibility of giving the child back to its homeless mother, and how she’d wanted only to walk off camera and take the baby with her.