East End Angel

Her mother was right to suspect the inquisitiveness of her neighbours. Local women with their heads together had been a common sight when Kathy had been living at home. They’d had plenty of grist for the mill from her family. The noise of fights and arguments had issued forth with depressing regularity from the Finch household. But then Cissy often let fly with pots and pans and choice names when her old man stumbled in drunk Sunday dinnertimes.

Her father tippled only infrequently and usually at home. Winnie’s sour explanation had been that her husband was too mean to add to the brewery’s profit, and besides, he had no friends to go to the pub with. Considering the amount of local families who’d been impoverished by alcohol, Kathy reckoned her mother should give thanks for small mercies on that score.

Kathy carried on into Paddington Street, heading in the direction of Campbell Road. There’d been no sign yet of Tom and she expected to find him, as her mother had predicted, in the Bunk, as it was commonly known. It was also known – with good reason – as the worst street in north London, due to its reputation for housing all manner of rogues and vagabonds needing a cheap place to doss.

Not all of the Bunk’s residents were passing through, though; some had lived in the street for a number of years. Kathy knew many of them were good souls who had very little but willingly went short to help others. In the distance she could see just such a person. She immediately broke into a jog, waving, because she’d not seen Matilda Keiver in a long while and it looked as though the woman was about to disappear indoors and deny her the chance of a chat.

CHAPTER NINE (#ulink_dfb0d961-eb13-5f74-83f6-b8239595742d)

‘Hello, Mrs Keiver, how are you doing?’ Kathy called breathlessly, coming to a halt by some iron railings fronting a tenement house.

The road in which her parents lived was hardly posh but it was a definite step up on the neighbourhood in which Kathy now found herself. Campbell Road was wide, stretching away into the distance in one direction as far as the eye could see. Looking the other way, Kathy could see a bus crossing the junction with Seven Sisters Road. The tall houses flanking the street were much of a muchness whichever side of Paddington Street they occupied. The majority received little maintenance from their landlords, although the rent collectors called round regularly. Some properties no longer had front doors, just gaping openings hinting at the decay within. Poor wretches desperate to keep warm in winter used anything to hand as firewood, including the fixtures and fittings. Years ago, Kathy had visited Mrs Keiver’s daughter Lucy at home in this very house and therefore knew how dilapidated were the rooms.

‘Not seen you in a long while, luv.’ Matilda’s face split in a grin as she emerged again from the house, blinking, to join Kathy in the weak spring sunshine. ‘I can see you’re doing all right fer yourself, then. Over in Islington to see yer mum, are you?’ The middle-aged woman gave Kathy’s wholesome appearance a top-to-toe squint.

Kathy sensed the woman’s beady blue eyes assessing her, and knew Matilda was busily working things out in her mind. Matilda Keiver was a plain speaker and didn’t make apologies for it.

‘So … what you doing round in the Bunk, Kathy?’ Matilda asked. ‘After your brother, are you? I know Winnie would sooner he stayed clear of the street and all us bad influences.’ She pulled a comical face, mock-affronted.

Matilda did indeed know that Winifred Finch had always thought herself better than the Bunk’s residents, but, although they’d had their differences in the past, Matilda didn’t hold the woman’s attitude against her. She knew that the Finches had had a rough ride over the years, just as she had herself. Matilda had a feeling Winnie and Eddie might have more trouble in store if their son didn’t straighten himself out.

‘I am after Tom. Seen him, have you, Mrs Keiver?’

‘He was about earlier, larking about with Davy Wright.’ She glanced towards the Wrights’ house further up the street. At present there was nobody around outside. ‘I know your mum don’t like him knocking about with Davy.’ Matilda pulled a face. ‘Gotta say, I’m with her on that one. I’ve told Davy he’s got a bit too big for his boots lately.’

‘Been showing off, has he?’ Kathy recalled that Davy had been a bit of a cocky lad. He came from a very poor family, even by Bunk standards. Despite his cheekiness, she’d always found him likeable.

‘Yeah, he’s showing off all right.’ Matilda sighed. ‘Not that I ever had no boys to bring up, but I know that’s how lads get once they get the urge to find a girl.’ She frowned. ‘Got caught smashing the winders round in the Lennox Road mission hall. Police got called and he got took to court but don’t seem to have learned him a lesson. Still swaggering about, he is.’ Matilda narrowed her eyes, wedging some stray auburn locks into the coil on top of her head. ‘Feel sorry for his mum, more’n anything. Polly’s still pulling that handcart round the streets to try and make ends meet by selling a bit of soda and soap. You’d think Davy would give a hand ’stead of causing trouble for her.’ Matilda crossed her arms over her chest. ‘If I was Polly Wright, I’d send the little sod off to the East End to live with his father. Let Stan have a go at controlling Davy; see how he likes it.’

Kathy knew that Davy was the youngest of five boys. She knew too that their father, Stan, had run out on the family years ago to set up with another woman.

Tough tale that it was, and sorry as Kathy felt for Davy’s mum, she didn’t contemplate the Wrights’ misfortune for long; there were plenty of cases of similar hardship in the Bunk. Kathy was more concerned with whether her brother might be mixed up in it all.

‘Mum hasn’t said anything about it to me …’

‘Don’t think your Tom was involved. Or if he was he kept hisself well hid. Just a little crowd of lads from round here got rounded up.’

‘I expect Davy will straighten out when he gets a job.’ Kathy was relieved she’d nothing to recount – or conceal – when she got back to her mother.

‘Reckon Davy already has left school, even if he shouldn’t have done. He hangs about in the street most of the day and you know what they say about idle hands …’ Matilda arched her eyebrows in emphasis. ‘Polly was trying to sort him out a part-time job now he’s turned thirteen.’ Matilda shook her head. ‘She’s got a task on her hands the way the unemployment is.’

‘Are Davy’s brothers still about?’

Matilda shook her head. ‘Samuel and Douglas ended up inside for robbery. The other two … last I heard, they’d hightailed it up North to find jobs as nuthin’ doing round here. Can’t see that working out for ’em, being as the Jarrow lads are fighting empty bellies.’ Matilda leaned back against the railings, smiling at Kathy. ‘Enough about the boys, what about you? All trained up now at the hospital, are you?’

‘I’ve left the hospital. I’m working as a district nurse and midwife, working out of Dr Worth’s surgery on Old Montague Street in Whitechapel.’

‘Ooh, crikey.’ Matilda was genuinely impressed. None of her daughters had been scholars but all had been hardworking girls before they settled down to raise families. ‘Helped many babies into the world, have you, Kathy?’

‘Nineteen, exactly, on my own. If you add on those I did with a bit of help from me supervisor when I was a probationer, it’s more like twenty-five.’ Kathy chuckled. ‘Last one was on Monday: little girl who weighed over nine pounds and the poor mum went a fortnight overdue.’

Matilda screwed up her face, wincing. ‘Ooh! Bet that made the poor cow’s eyes water.’ She announced proudly, ‘All my gels was dainty little things. Beth weighed the most at seven and a half pounds. I had old Lou Perkins in to help me each time …’ She darted a glance at Kathy, knowing that such help was outlawed now. ‘Course, that’s what you did in them days; no nice young nurses on call for the likes of us. Couldn’t afford it, for a start. Old Lou would be happy enough with a bottle of port as a thank-you, or a few whiskies down her, round in the Duke.’ Matilda gazed dreamily into space as she recalled youthful days when her first husband had been alive. ‘Had all my kids before the Great War, y’see, Kathy. My Jack, God Bless him, was still alive then. Saw all our gels brung into the world, he did. Idolised ’em all, and they adored their dad.’

Kathy was used to women reminiscing with her about their own experiences the moment they knew of her profession. Usually, she was regaled with horror stories about lengthy labours necessitating martyr-like bravery. But Matilda had a different sort of stoicism. Having battled for survival in the Bunk over decades, coping with a difficult labour was probably the least painful of her memories.

‘How’s Reg?’ It was common knowledge Matilda and her second husband weren’t actually married, although they’d been living as man and wife for many years.

‘Oh, he’s much the same; still doing his totting. Keeps him outta mischief and brings in a few bob. And I do mean a few bob.’ Matilda blew out her lips in a sigh. ‘Tough old life, ain’t it? Keep hoping things’ll get better. Had them Fascists round here the other day causing trouble down by Seven Sisters Road. Bricks got thrown.’

‘Mosley’s Blackshirts?’ Kathy sounded surprised. David often spoke about the Fascist Party recruiting in the East End but she’d not heard they were making a nuisance of themselves in north London too. Her boyfriend had been on duty not so long ago, when he’d had to attend a clash between Mosley’s supporters and anti-Fascist protestors in Limehouse.

‘They think people like us are interested in listening to all their claptrap ’cos we’re poor so must hate all the immigrants.’ Matilda shrugged. ‘Course some folk round here do side with ’em. I opened up me window and bawled at them to sling their hooks ’cos me husband’s Irish. Didn’t like that, did they.’ Matilda threw back her head, roaring with laughter. ‘Bunch of hypocrites the lot of ’em. Don’t like the foreigners, so they say, yet they got their ideas off the Germans and Eyeties.’ Matilda crossed her arms over her chest. ‘Course, I ain’t got anything against Mosley’s crew any more than the others. I tell the Sally Army to clear off ’n’ all when they come round preaching. Never been political and don’t like no interference ’cos none of ’em ever really helps the likes of us.’ She gave a smirk. ‘Wasting their time trying to convert me, or save me fer that matter …’ She broke off having seen Beattie Evans coming out of her front door. Behind her were a couple of youths. Matilda gave Kathy’s arm a light prod.

‘There’s your Tom, over there with Davy. Me neighbour’s probably given ’em a bit of grub.’

Kathy swivelled to see her brother and Davy Wright slouching across the road. Beattie raised a hand in greeting, then headed off towards the corner shop. Kathy knew the middle-aged widow had a soft spot for hungry kids. She also liked a bit of company. Tom had told her before that Beattie Evans had invited him and his friends in to have a cup of tea and a bit of bread and jam when she was feeling generous. All they had to do in return was listen to her nattering on about the olden days until they’d curbed their hunger and could scarper.

‘I suppose I’d better get off and see what Tom’s been up to.’ Kathy could see from her brother’s expression that he was torn between acting nonchalant in front of his friend or running up to her. He raised a lazy hand in greeting, leaving it at that.

Before Kathy had got far, Matilda halted her.

‘How’s your sister doing? See anything of Jennifer, do you?’

‘Yeah … I see her on and off.’ Kathy smiled faintly. ‘She’s about the same.’

‘One day it’ll all come right, you’ll see.’ Matilda gave a kind smile. ‘When you see her next tell her I say hello.’

‘I will … thanks,’ Kathy answered gruffly. Matilda had known about the bust-up that Bill Black had caused in their family, as did a good many local people.

‘Well, I’d better get inside and sort Reg out something for his tea. He’ll be home soon.’ Matilda gave Kathy’s shoulder a farewell pat. ‘Remember me to yer mum, as well, won’t you?’ flowed back over her stout shoulder as she disappeared inside the dank hallway.

Tom noticed Davy’s eyes pinned to his sister’s face as she approached. Kathy was pretty, and all the boys, even those like Davy who were a lot younger than she, tended to stare. Some had even made rude comments about her, making him feel awkward.

‘Not at work then?’ Tom said gruffly by way of greeting.

‘Afternoon off …’ Kathy replied. She gave Davy a smile. He did look different from when she’d last seen him about a year ago. His complexion was spotty and a dark film covered his top lip as though a moustache wanted to sprout. He certainly looked big enough to be out earning a living. By comparison, her brother seemed like a schoolboy.

‘Shame you ain’t got yer uniform on.’ Davy leered at her. ‘I’m feeling right dizzy, Nurse, and could do with you examining me all over.’

‘Ha-ha.’ Kathy gave him a pronounced sickly smile. It wasn’t the first time she’d heard something similar from a brash male. Davy Wright was just the youngest to try it on and she felt disappointed that he had. Matilda was right: the lad had changed, and not for the better.

‘Shut up,’ Tom whacked his friend’s arm, shoving him away. ‘Goin’ home,’ he muttered, and started off towards Paddington Street with Kathy, ignoring Davy making a lewd gesture.

‘Davy older than you, is he?’ Kathy asked.

‘Only six months,’ Tom replied defensively. He knew what his sister meant: he appeared far younger than his friend now Davy’s voice had broken and he’d started growing whiskers. ‘Mum sent you round to get me, did she?’ he asked sullenly.

‘It was my idea to come round to find you ’cos I missed you last time I came over to Islington.’ Kathy sensed her brother’s moodiness.