Kay Brellend 3-Book Collection: The Street, The Family, Coronation Day

Tilly raised her eyebrows in enquiry.

The exertion of catching Tilly up and delivering that little speech seemed to have taken all Beattie’s breath and for a moment she simply fanned her face.

Impatient to be on her way Tilly made a guess. ‘If you’ve caught sight of Jimmy ‘n’ his tart out walking you don’t need to tell me nuthin’ about them. I know they’re still carryin’ on, and I don’t need nobody telling me my sister’s a fool.’

Despite Jimmy’s promises that he’d soon escape Nellie’s clutches and be back home with his wife and kids, Fran still tolerated him spending most of his time with his fancy piece. Tilly reckoned that it was Nellie who was keen to be rid of Jimmy. She’d glimpsed her recently in Holloway Road with heavy powder clogged on a puffy eye. Tilly could put two and two together. Jimmy would cling onto Nellie while she was earning and he could take a cut of the money. He was obviously employing his fists if necessary to ensure he got as much as he wanted.

‘Ain’t him!’ Beattie blasted out a cackle. ‘Nah! This is a real sight fer sore eyes. Jeannie Robertson. Didn’t reckernise her straight off. All dolled up to the nines, she is. Just saw her up the other end. Saw me right back, she did, and didn’t look too concerned about getting spotted neither. That’s a brass-faced baggage to turn up after what she did!’ Beattie exclaimed.

Tilly’s eyes narrowed. She hadn’t forgotten the Robertson family. How could she? They’d done a bunk with the blouse she’d loaned Jeannie for pawning, and with Mr Keane’s rent and furniture. But what really niggled Tilly was that she could have lost her job over it all.

‘Up there, is she?’ Tilly echoed and her mouth set in a grim line. ‘I’ll have her … the thieving cow.’

‘Hang on,’ Beattie whispered in shock. ‘Bleeding hell. Look! Here she comes. She’s heading straight for us.’

Tilly turned to see that indeed Jeannie Robertson was marching purposefully in her direction. Tilly eyed her from head to toe. She didn’t appear to be in need of anything now. Dolled up hardly did justice to her elegant attire. She’d always been an attractive woman for her years – Tilly guessed Jeannie was about her own age, thirty-seven. It was the first time Tilly had seen her spruced up and she realised Jeannie Robertson wouldn’t have looked out of place sauntering along Bond Street. She certainly looked to be a misfit in Campbell Road, yet a few years ago she’d been glad to take a room in one of the worst houses to be had in this slum. A blue velvet hat was perched on Jeannie’s head and she was garbed in a smart dark outfit with a leather bag dangling from an elbow.

‘Got somethin’ fer yer,’ Jeannie stated as soon as she stopped. Her voice hadn’t undergone the same transformation and was as coarse as ever it had been.

Tilly elevated her chin. ‘Well … let’s know quick what it is, ’cos I got something for you too.’ One of Tilly’s clenched fists was raised to hover by her waist.

A small smile writhed over Jeannie’s lips then disappeared. ‘Can’t blame you for how you feel,’ she said simply. ‘Let’s go in there.’ She nodded to an open doorway close by. ‘Nobody else’s business anyhow what went on,’ she said, slinging a significant glance at Beattie who was listening to proceedings with slack-jawed avidity.

A shrug confirmed Tilly’s willingness to speak with Jeannie in private. In the shelter of the doorway she swung about immediately to confront her.

‘Got a few things to say and this to do.’ Jeannie pulled out of her stylish handbag some bank notes. ‘Should be more’n enough there to cover what I took. Furniture were crap anyhow but it served a purpose. Blouse you let me have to pawn kept us fed when we had nothing. So I’m saying I’m obliged to you. I’m saying too that it’s up to you what you do with old man Keane’s share of that there cash.’

Tilly continued staring at the fifteen pounds she held as though she couldn’t quite believe it was hers. A hint of floral perfume wafted from her fingers and Tilly was tempted to move her fist to her face to acquaint herself with the scent of plenty.

‘You want to pay Keane for his back rent and that pile o’ shit I carted off, that’s yer own business.’ Jeannie turned and walked away a few paces. ‘Another thing … you done me a good turn and I pay back favours.’ It seemed Tilly was intent on ignoring the offer so Jeannie turned away.

‘You done alright for yourself, then?’ Tilly rasped.

‘Doing better than I was,’ Jeannie answered wryly over a shoulder. She swung about. ‘Got hooked up again with a bloke I used to know out of Lorenco Road. He’s done alright. He’s got a few clubs now up west and he’s right generous. That’s enough for me for the time being.’

A dry chuckle rolled in Tilly’s throat. ‘That’s enough for any of us, I reckon.’

‘I heard your husband’s gone to fight.’

‘Yeah … he’s in France. But he was back a few months ago.’ A smile tipped Tilly’s lips as she remembered the wonderful time they’d had on Lucy’s fifth birthday.

‘Well, as I said, you done me a good turn ‘n’ I won’t forget it. Both me sons joined up,’ Jeannie added as an afterthought. ‘One navy … one army, neither of ’em old enough ter go.’

‘’Spect you miss ’em,’ Tilly said, her fists finally relaxing at her sides.

‘Yeah … but not as much as they miss each other, I reckon.’ With that Jeannie turned and set off up Campbell Road.

She’d got a few yards when Tilly hissed after her. ‘You mean it? You’ll not let on if I keep all o’ this?’ She discreetly wagged the cash, half-hidden in her skirt. ‘What if Mr Keane goes after you for it? He don’t forget nuthin’. If he sees you about he’ll have yer.’

‘He won’t … not when he finds out who my bloke is.’ Jeannie retraced her steps. ‘Keane might think he’s something round this poxy hole but he ain’t in the same league as Johnny Blake.’ Her top lip curled lightly. ‘I won’t have no trouble off him so you won’t have no trouble. I’ll make sure of it.’ Jeannie paused. Her shrewd eyes flitted over Tilly’s rough, faded clothing. ‘Might have a bit of business for you. I know you ‘n’ your husband used to do a bit of street selling from time to time. As I said, Johnny’s generous; buys me stuff I don’t pertickerly like. So, I got a few nice bits I got no use for … coats and boots ‘n’ so on. I’m looking to shift ’em so …’

‘Don’t want no charity off yer,’ Tilly butted in brusquely.

‘Ain’t giving yer no charity,’ Jeannie retorted. ‘I was going to offer to sell ’em to you. If you flog it on at a profit …’ She shrugged. ‘I ain’t bothered. I just want shot of it so’s I got room in me wardrobe for stuff that suits me.’

Another discreet squint at Jeannie’s attire told Tilly that if the stuff were as good as what she had on it would be a payday. ‘I’ll take a look at it, if you like,’ she said with gruff nonchalance. ‘I don’t mind doing a bit of hawkin’ so I’ll have the lot off you if the price is right.’

‘Right,’ Jeannie said briskly. ‘I’ll be back one evening next week with it. Just so’s you know in advance, I’ll be wanting a guinea for the lot.’

Tilly’s eyes slew to the velvet hat perched on top of Jeannie’s head. It looked to have cost all of that and more. Jeannie Robertson was doing her a good turn in the only way she could … by making out it wasn’t much good at all.

This time when Jeannie set off Tilly watched her go then emerged from the doorway and walked in the opposite direction. Beattie hove immediately into view to trot after her. When Tilly continued to smile, but remained uncommunicative, curiosity got the better of Beattie’s usual caution with this woman.

‘What’s she want?’ she demanded.

‘To pay her dues.’ Tilly’s good mood remained unspoiled by her neighbour’s crude inquisitiveness. So she didn’t advise Beattie to keep her snout out.

‘Bleedin’ hell, Fran! Knock next time, will you?’ Tilly snatched up from the table the money that Jeannie had given her earlier in the week and thrust it into a pocket. But her sister had seen it and her eyes darted to the place into which the notes had just disappeared.

‘You done alright for yourself, then. Where d’you get that sort of cash?’ Fran came further into the room and closed the door that lead onto the landing.

‘Jeannie Robertson’s been by to pay back what she owed.’

Fran’s eyes opened in wonderment. ‘She’s come back after all this time to pay you what she owed?’ she echoed.

‘Yeah; surprised me ‘n’ all. She’s doing alright now. Got a rich fancy man, she has.’

‘Lend us ten bob, will you?’

Tilly stood up and said curtly, ‘Already lent yer, Fran, and you said Jimmy was going to pay you something last Friday so’s you could give it me back this week.’ Tilly looked at her sister. ‘Take it you ain’t seen him, and you’ve got nothing for me, then.’

‘Don’t look like you need it,’ Fran remarked sullenly.

‘This here’s gotta last. Jack ain’t here helpin’ out now, Fran. It’s just me ‘n’ the girls. Ain’t got a man’s wages coming in.’

‘Neither have I.’

Tilly sensed that Fran had a complaint to make and was waiting for the right moment to slip it into the conversation. ‘Jimmy’s done the dirty on you again.’ She wearily stabbed a guess.

‘I’m done with him.’ Fran curled her lip. ‘He ain’t never going to leave that cow and come home for good. Ain’t seen him or his wages in weeks. Done with him for good, I am.’

Tilly grunted a laugh. ‘Well now, I ain’t even going to ask if you mean it. But if I really believed that he was gone for good I’d say keep the money wot I lent you and take this ‘n’ all as a thank-you present.’ She drew the fifteen pounds out of her pocket and slapped it down on the table. ‘It’d be worth all of that to see the back of the bastard once ‘n’ fer all. Trouble is, I know you don’t mean it this time any more than you did the last. So you can leave that cash where it is.’

Jimmy Wild yanked up his coat collar as he emerged from the King’s Head pub and sloped off towards Seven Sisters Road. He kept his head down. By hiding what he could of his face he hoped nobody closer to home would spot the beating he’d taken. He’d been a figure of fun in the pub because of it. But he’d needed a few drinks so he’d taken the stares and whispers while he knocked back a couple of pints and whisky chasers and mentally licked his wounds. Rage and resentment made him grind his back teeth. In turn that made him flinch and curse as his skin tightened on bruises that were constantly throbbing.

Earlier that evening he’d been to see Nellie to collect what he liked to call his commission from her. He’d known for a while that the bitch was keen to ditch him. She wasn’t as docile as Fran who’d take a painful lesson in obedience then open her legs for him an hour later without too much complaint in case the boys got a taste of his temper. Nellie, he’d learned to his irritation, was a brooder. She’d carry on sulking and moaning for days at a time. But her resistance to accepting a bit of discipline, or to handing over the thick end of her earnings, wasn’t the reason she wanted rid of him. Nellie liked a man around to warn the other working girls and their pimps she’d got someone looking after her interests. The reason she no longer wanted Jimmy was that she’d found someone to take his place.

Saul Bateman had taken care of Jimmy too when he’d showed up unannounced and caught the two of them in bed. Jimmy had unwisely thought he’d got the fellow at a disadvantage seeing as how he was stark bollock naked, pumping away on top of Nellie and breathing heavily. So he’d confidently left the knife in his pocket and landed the first punch. But in a leap his younger rival was on his feet and impressing on Jimmy he was the better man in every way. Nellie, the silly tart, had started shrieking and grabbing the sheet to cover herself as though she’d revealed something he’d never seen before.