East End Angel

‘Is Dad in?’ Blanche asked, ignoring her mother’s question. She was after a sub off her father, having just spent all her wages at the hairdresser’s. She knew asking her mother for a few bob would be a dead loss, even though Gladys was flush, having just got paid for her job as a machinist.

‘Your father’s gone out. I think he’s meeting Nick, ’cos he heard he might have a job for him, but of course, I don’t get told all of it.’

The mention of her estranged husband made Blanche prick up her ears. She’d only been in minutes but she buttoned her coat ready to leave the house again.

Gladys Scott eyed her daughter grimly. ‘Thinking of going chasing after Nick again, are you? Won’t do you no good, my girl. He still won’t take you back, and you know it.’

‘Oh, shut up, Mum,’ Blanche muttered, crashing the front door shut behind her. She hunched her shoulders against a sense of dejection and the bitter February wind. She feared her mother was right. Nick had given her the brush-off earlier in the week when she’d turned up at his place with seduction on her mind. She’d felt humiliated when he’d practically bundled her out of the door and told her to go home. He hadn’t even offered her a lift in his flash car and she’d had to catch the bus.

Hearing a bus wheezing to a stop at the corner of Bethnal Green Road, Blanche trotted towards it and managed to jump on just before it pulled off. She settled down on a seat next to a fat woman with a basket on her lap. The woman gave her a glare, even though she was taking up most of the seat with her porky backside.

When it reached her stop, Blanche got off the bus and walked briskly in the direction of the Grave Maurice pub. She was hoping that Nick would be in his local, as he usually was at dinnertime, and that her dad would be with him. Nick was more tolerant of her company when her father was around because the two men liked one another. If only she’d listened to her father’s advice rather than her mother’s, she’d never have let Nick Raven slip through her fingers.

Blanche dawdled outside, peering through the pub windows. She was itching to creep inside and see if Nick and her father were propping up the bar, but she had been brought up right – as her mother would term it – and knew it wasn’t nice for a young woman to enter such a rough house on her own. Besides, Nick didn’t like pushy women – he’d never got on with her mother – and wouldn’t appreciate Blanche marching in on him now if he was with pals. But Blanche didn’t fancy loitering outside freezing to death so she had a decision to make.

‘Who you after, then?’ A burly fellow had just emerged from the pub and seen her on tiptoe, trying to peer into the saloon bar over the frosted-glass pane. He gave Blanche an appreciative top-to-toe look. She was a pretty brunette, and her ample bust and curvy hips were undisguised by the heavy winter coat she wore. He thought she seemed familiar but couldn’t bring to mind where he’d met her before.

‘Me dad and me husband, Nick Raven,’ Blanche answered. She was always proud to let people know who she’d married. ‘I think they might be having a drink inside.’ Despite the fact he looked like a low-life navvy, Blanche preened beneath the fellow’s leer, unconsciously patting her crisp dark waves.

‘Yeah … they are in there.’ Charlie Potter gave her a grin. Now he knew why he’d not immediately recognised her. Blanche Raven had cut her long hair short and put on a bit of weight since the days when she’d been Wes Silver’s bit on the side. ‘Well, depending on which old man you’re after, could be you turned up just in time, luv. Nick’s got an admirer moving in on him.’

‘Oh, has he!’ Blanche snapped and, chin high, stormed past, bristling as she heard laughter following her.

She pushed open the pub door and, once her eyes adjusted to the smoky interior, spied the men she was after. Her husband was leaning on the bar just yards away. The place was crowded but his height and fair hair made him easily recognisable. Her short, balding father wasn’t quite so quickly located at his side. Blanche heard his gravelly laugh before she spotted him perched on a stool. She was relieved to see that there didn’t appear to be any women with them. Not that she’d have been surprised to see Nick with somebody else. He made no secret of the fact that he’d had affairs since they’d split up.

Blanche pursed her lips indignantly. Perhaps the navvy had thought he was being funny trying to rile her. She reckoned he’d known her identity even before she told him she was Nick’s wife, although she couldn’t place him. Nondescript old scruffs like him were ten a penny round these parts. Blanche was glad people knew of her association with Nick, despite the fact they’d been separated now for over three years.

Her father had turned and spotted her. He gave her a frown but raised a hand in greeting. The movement drew Nick’s attention. Blanche noticed he didn’t seem so pleased to see her; nevertheless, she weaved through the crowd to join them.

‘What’ll you have, Blanche?’ Nick asked mildly.

Blanche had to give it to her husband: even though she’d done the dirty on him, he’d always remained generous and polite to her. In fact, she knew if she had an opportunity to ask him for money before they parted, he’d probably hand over a note to her.

‘Gin ’n’ orange, thanks.’ Blanche gave him a coy smile.

‘What you doin’ here?’ her father demanded in a whisper when Nick turned away to get her drink.

‘Mum said you was with Nick … getting a job … so I thought I’d come and see you both,’ Blanche muttered defiantly.

‘Well, I’m more likely to get me job if you ain’t around,’ Tony Scott retorted, but not too unkindly. He knew his daughter had a renewed hankering for Nick, and he knew why that was. He feared she was wasting her time, but nevertheless wished the couple would get back together. At least then he’d have a bit of a peaceful home life.

Nick Raven was doing all right for himself now. He might not have been when he did the decent thing and married Blanche, having got her pregnant. Then Nick had been driving a lorry for a pittance and his son-in-law’s lack of cash and prospects had been the problem where Tony’s wife and daughter were concerned. Blanche had acted as though she was doing Nick a favour by agreeing to marry him rather than the other way around.

Nick was now on his way up and Blanche would have been going places with him but for her greed and her mother’s influence. Tony knew that it had been with his wife’s encouragement that their daughter had started an affair with Wes Silver. Wes was an important fellow around this manor, with a haulage company and gambling clubs, and a reputation for putting people out of business or in hospital if they crossed him. Wes also had a wife and a couple of kids and, when push had come to shove, he’d chosen to stay put. May Silver was too useful to him to be dumped for a younger woman. A lot of people, Tony included, believed May ran the show where Wes’s business was concerned and he merely provided a bit of bought-in muscle and credibility.

Tony knew it was sticking in Blanche’s craw that her husband’s lack of emotion made it seem Wes Silver had actually done him a favour by sleeping with his wife and breaking up his marriage.

‘There you go …’ Nick slid a glass of gin and orange towards Blanche.

She pouted him a thank-you kiss.

‘Done something different to your hair, ain’t you?’ Tony asked, to break the silence that had settled on them since his daughter’s arrival. He could tell Nick was pissed off by Blanche’s presence, and he knew why. A young blonde seated at a window table had been quite obviously giving his son-in-law the eye, and Nick had been encouraging her with subtle glances. Tony knew her name was Joyce Groves and that she worked in the café up the road. For a moment, Tony had thought trouble might start. Then he’d realised that the fellow sitting with Joyce was her older brother rather than a boyfriend. He recognised Kenny Groves from way back, when he’d been in the same class at school as Blanche.

‘What job you getting then, Dad?’ Blanche asked, her tongue loosened by a few quick gulps of gin.

‘Ain’t really spoke about that just yet,’ her father answered, glaring from beneath his brows. ‘Ain’t long been in here so not had a chance.’

‘Well … I’ve gotta be off in a minute,’ Nick said, looking at a fancy wristwatch. ‘Got to see some bloke in Shoreditch.’

‘No, stay and have another. My round …’ Tony Scott knew if Nick went off without offering him a job, he’d swing for Blanche for turning up and ruining his chances.

‘Can you start on a house in Commercial Street in the morning?’ Nick asked. ‘It needs decorating from top to bottom, interior and exterior. I know the weather’s a bit against us for outside work but—’

‘Course I can,’ Tony snapped at the offer of employment. He was a painter and decorator by trade but, lately, he had been picking up any sort of work he could find just to keep some wages rolling in. Although Gladys did piecework, sewing coats for a Jew boy, she never let him forget it was her regular money keeping them all afloat. ‘Be glad to start this afternoon on the preparing, if yer like,’ Tony burbled, keen to get his foot in the door.

‘Be obliged if you’d get going straight away, as I’ve got tenants lined up ready and waiting to move in.’ Nick took a notebook from an inside pocket and ripped out a page. Having written down the site address, he handed it over, upending his glass and draining it in a swallow. ‘Gonna get off now …’ He started towards the door.

He’d only managed a yard or two when Blanche rushed up to hang on his arm.

Nick kept going, trying to curb his impatience when his wife wouldn’t take the hint and leave him alone.

Outside the pub, he turned up his coat collar, then removed Blanche’s hand from his arm. ‘What do you want?’

‘Thought you might like to go to the flicks tonight?’

‘No, I don’t want to go to the flicks with you tonight or any other night,’ he said mildly. ‘We’ve been through this. We ain’t married now, Blanche … well, we are,’ he corrected himself, ‘but it’s over between us and has been for a long time.’

‘Don’t need to be.’ Blanche moved closer, rubbing her hip against his thigh. ‘I’ll come over yours ’n’ show you it can be like it was between us.’

‘Right …’ Nick drawled. ‘Well, I’d need to be some sort of demented mug to want to go back to that, wouldn’t I?’

Blanche slid her arms about his neck, gazing up into his lean sarcastic face. ‘Be better this time, Nick, promise …’ She turned her head as she noticed she’d lost his attention. A young blonde woman was on her way out of the pub with a man Blanche thought she recognised. She’d been at school with Kenny Groves but she realised the years hadn’t treated him kindly. In her opinion, he looked a good decade older than she did. Blanche could see that the petite blonde was more interested in Nick than the fellow she was with, and after a second she realised it was little Joyce, Kenny’s younger sister. She felt like flying across and slapping the little cow’s face because it was obvious she was giving Nick the come-on. Blanche understood why that was: at twenty-seven, her husband was only two years older than she and Kenny, but he had an air of confidence that made him seem mature and powerful. Nick Raven was also tall and good-looking, and able to afford quality clothes to show off his muscular frame.

‘Know her, do you?’ Blanche snapped. Her female intuition was telling her that Nick was not immune to Joyce’s charms.

‘Not as well as I’d like to.’ He removed her arms from his shoulders. A moment later, he was heading off towards his Alvis parked at the kerb.

Suddenly Nick halted and strolled back towards Blanche, hands thrust into his pockets. Now he ignored Joyce giving him a come-hither glance over her shoulder, concentrating on his estranged wife. ‘We need to talk about the divorce, Blanche.’ He gazed into the distance, hoping she wasn’t about to get hysterical as she usually did when he mentioned putting an official end to their marriage. In the past he’d backed down rather than upset her and her family. But enough time had passed and he knew he would never again love her or want to live with her. In truth, he wasn’t sure if he ever had loved her or wanted to live with her. But four years ago he’d been determined to do the right thing by their unborn child and meet his responsibilities. Not that he could be certain it had been his child … and he never would know, as she’d miscarried the little mite at about five months. They’d been married when that happened. The booking at the town hall had been just six weeks premature because Blanche had insisted she wanted to have a ring on her finger before she got a pot belly. In the event she never did get fat but she got her ring and Nick had wondered, once they were all over the turmoil of losing the baby, what the hell he’d done.

Now Blanche shot backwards, clearly not going to listen to any talk of divorces. She knew if she could just get Nick to sleep with her, make her pregnant again, he’d never leave her. He’d stood by her before when she’d been carrying his child and she reckoned he’d do so again.

Nick smiled acidly as he saw her stumbling towards the pub. He’d learned that if there was one sure way to shake Blanche off it was mentioning putting their divorce into motion.

‘Ain’t talking about it. You know how I feel.’ Blanche pointed a shaking finger at him. ‘When I took me vows they was for keeps.’

‘Yeah? Which ones exactly?’ Nick asked sarcastically, following her to the pub door to prevent her entering. ‘Weren’t the vow of fidelity, was it?’ He pulled her roughly to one side so people could exit the pub. ‘Now I’ve told you I can get a divorce on the grounds of adultery – come to think of it, so can you now. But it’d be best if we keep it all nice and friendly, for everybody’s sake.’

‘We can make a go of it. Why you being horrible?’ Blanche gazed up at him, bottom lip wobbling. ‘I’ve said sorry. So I made a mistake – we all make mistakes, don’t we?’