The Street

‘Thought the whole road must’ve known what went on, the row they was making.’ Bill Prewett settled himself firmly on one foot and looked up at her. ‘Banged on their door meself, I did. You gorn deaf or summat?’

‘I was out for a while . . .’ Tilly explained.

‘Oh . . . out, was yer?’

The knowing tone made Tilly itch to run down and slap his smug face for him. She knew that it was common knowledge around here that she liked a drink. So what? So did most people struggling to survive in this shit hole.

‘Anyoldhow,’ Bill went on quickly, having recognised the dangerous glint in Tilly’s eyes, ‘I saw Jimmy slope off around seven this morning. He looked alright, as far as I could tell, but that don’t mean nuthin’.’ With that he eased himself forward and carried on his slow descent of the stairs.

Tilly turned back to the locked door and renewed her efforts with both hands. Her concern for her younger sister’s welfare had put a fire in her belly. ‘Fran? Open the door if you’re in there.’ Her fists were raised to recommence the assault when her sister finally opened the door a crack. ‘Let me in, you silly cow.’

‘Only if you promise not to go mad and start shouting. Me head’s fit to explode as it is.’

Tilly gave an impatient sigh and shoved past Fran into a room as dingy and depressing as the one she’d just left on the floor above. She turned about and gave her sister’s appearance a thorough inspection. Her back teeth began to grind but she fought down her anger and simply continued to stare at the sorry sight before her. The light was poor but even so Tilly could see blood spatters on Fran’s blouse and her bruised and battered face. Calmly she asked, ‘What the fuck started him off this time?’

‘He’s a bastard.’

‘Yeah, I know that.’ Tilly waited, hoping to hear a better explanation for Jimmy’s savagery. None was forthcoming. ‘Look at the state of you, fer Gawd’s sake,’ she burst out. ‘Didn’t you try and belt him back?’

‘Just makes him worse.’ Fran grimaced in pain. ‘Besides, me arms hurt too much. Felt as though he’d twisted them out of their sockets. He had them right up behind me back.’ She tried to ease her shoulders but even small movements made her gasp. ‘I’ll get him one o’ these days,’ she vowed shakily. ‘I’ll creep up on him with a knife when he ain’t expecting it. You see if I don’t.’ Her bravado flagged and she slumped against the wall. ‘We’re finished this time, in any case.’

‘You said that last time.’

‘Now I mean it ’cos he’s give me no wages in over a week. I know where the money’s gone, too. I know for sure he’s got a fancy piece.’

‘You said you was finished last time when you found out he had a fancy piece,’ Tilly reminded her a mite too sarcastically.

‘It’s alright for you,’ Fran shrieked, stretching her cut lips. ‘We ain’t all lucky enough to have a decent man like Jack.’ Gingerly she raised her fingers to her face as she felt the warm wetness on her chin. ‘Me mouth’s started to bleed again,’ she wailed and bent her head to a cuff to staunch the flow.

‘Where’s the boys?’ Tilly asked after her two young nephews.

‘Got them off to school somehow. Bobbie’s gone off bawling fit to burst. Stevie’s wet the bed. I gotta get that cleaned up before Jimmy turns up. If he finds out he’ll give him such a hiding.’

‘I’ll change the sheet,’ Tilly promised. ‘And if Jimmy turns up, I’ll see to him too,’ she vowed grimly. ‘First, let’s see to you.’

‘I’m alright,’ Fran muttered and again brought her cuff up to her face. ‘Nothing I ain’t dealt with before.’

‘Come upstairs.’ Tilly got hold of her sister’s arm but, hearing Fran cry out in pain, she instead slipped a hand about her waist. ‘Come on,’ she urged and tugged her gently towards the door. ‘Let’s get some tea on the go and we’ll sort it out.’

‘I reckon he’s got a woman round here this time. That’s where he’s spending his money.’ Fran dipped her head to hide her weeping eyes.

‘We’ll sort it out,’ Tilly repeated firmly. She opened the door and propelled her sister out onto the landing.

Alice and Bethany were sharing the job of wiping the crockery dry and stacking it on the battered old dining table. Sophy had said she’d done her stint washing up yesterday and had got going to school. When their mother reappeared with Fran in tow both girls stopped what they were doing to gawp at the state of their aunt’s face. One of her eyes was puffed to a slit, her lips looked gigantic and her jaw was red and grazed from chin to ear. She greeted her nieces quite jovially even though her eyes were suspiciously wet.

‘You two still here? Bobbie ‘n’ Stevie been gone to school a quarter of an hour or more. You’ll be late, y’know.’

Having heard their cousins had already left, the girls looked at one another. It was not unheard of to get a blackboard rubber aimed at your head by Rotten Rogers if you were last in for registration.

‘We’re just going,’ Alice said and dropped the towel she’d been using to dry up. Bethany followed suit.

Both girls knew that big trouble was afoot, and the two women would want to discuss in private a plan of how to put right whatever had now gone wrong between Aunt Fran and Uncle Jimmy.

‘Where’s Sophy?’

‘Gone to school,’ the sisters chorused in reply.

Moments later Tilly surprised them by saying, ‘You’ll have to stop home.’ She caught one of Alice’s elbows in a strong grip. ‘You get going.’ Tilly tipped her head at the door indicating that Bethany should immediately use it.

With a quick, sympathetic look at her sister Bethany did as she was bid. School was a pain, but at least you could have a laugh with friends on the way there and back. Staying home and caring for Lucy was, to Bethany’s mind, utterly boring. And she knew that was why Alice was being kept off school.

‘Do I have to, Mum?’ Alice asked plaintively. Usually when they had women’s talk they liked to be alone. But there had been one other time Alice had been kept home to act as nursemaid to Bethany when Aunt Fran had problems; it had been years ago before Lucy had been born. On that particular day the whole house had seemed to shake with the commotion that’d gone on.

Uncle Jimmy and her dad had come to blows because Jimmy had accused Tilly of poking her nose in his business. Naturally, her dad had backed her mum although Alice had sensed he thought Jimmy had a point.

Alice was glad her dad had gone out now. At least he would be spared any nastiness that might occur if Jimmy turned up hollering for his missus as he had last time. Not that her mum was unable to stick up for herself. She’d witnessed her fighting in the street with men and women. She’d seen her put a poker over the head of Bart Walsh when he’d refused to pay his rent and had spat at her. Her mum had looked big as a house on that occasion. It’d been only a day or so after that Lucy had been born.

‘Yeah, you do have to stay home today,’ Tilly told Alice. ‘Me ‘n’ your aunt Fran have got to go out a bit later and you’ve got to take care of Lucy ’cos we can’t drag her round with us.’ Tilly sweetened the dictate with a promise. ‘Tell yer what, Al; if you’re a good gel I’ll get you some chips dinnertime. There, how’s that?’

Alice gave a faint smile. In fact it was a nice bribe. They’d had very little to eat yesterday. Dinner had been bread and a scrape of jam. There’d been no jam left for this morning and a slab each of bread with the mould cut off the crust had been their breakfast.

‘I’ve got a couple o’ coppers for you too,’ Aunt Fran said and attempted a smile. The small movement made her wince and moan and hold her jaw.

Alice knew things must be serious if she was getting treats. She didn’t know where her mum and Aunt Fran were heading but guessed it would be to locate Uncle Jimmy. A dingdong was sure to ensue. Alice went to the bed and looked down at Lucy. The baby was gurgling quite con tentedly, her thin legs kicking energetically. Alice gave her little sister a tickle then put a finger onto one of her curled palms. Immediately Lucy gripped it, still giving her a gummy smile. Soon the baby would want a feed and become fractious and her mum was bound to be busy elsewhere. ‘Did Dad bring in any milk?’

‘Don’t think he did, love.’ Tilly grimaced in exasperation. She ferreted in the pocket of her apron and pulled out coins in a fist. ‘Here, nip to the shop and get some and we’ll all have a cuppa tea.’

Despite her mother frequently going to bed under the influence she mostly got up in the morning good as new. To Alice it seemed that two different people lived in her mother’s body. One could be quite nice; the other could be a monster. Today she seemed to have recovered better than usual. The thought of sorting out Jimmy had obviously put her in a good mood.

Alice took the money and, having pulled on her coat, went out. They lived on the top floor of the house in a front and back room of about equal size and state. Now she skipped down the dank staircase and rushed towards the light streaming in through the doorless aperture at the bottom of the flight. Once the building had had a front door but it had been damaged in a ruckus many years ago and never repaired. The remnants had then been hacked off the hinges and used as firewood.

The bitter cold atmosphere outside was preferable to the gloom and stench that shrouded their home. Alice sniffed in crisp, clean air, thrust her hands in her pockets and set off on a brisk walk towards the shop.

Either side of the street loomed terraced houses set behind railings, similar to the one from which Alice had just dashed. Campbell Road marched from Seven Sisters Road at one end to Lennox Road at the other and was cut in half by Paddington Street. The tenements were overcrowded, without adequate washing facilities for either people or equipment. Added to a permeating smell of grime was an atmosphere of rising damp and overflowing privies, for the buildings were badly maintained. The majority of the landlords felt under no obligation to do repairs until threatened by a visit from the sanitary inspector.

The Keivers lived in what was known as the rougher end of The Bunk close to the junction with Seven Sisters Road. That territory had always been intended to house the impoverished. The top half of the road had been built with a better class of occupant in mind. But those people had long since decamped in search of respectable neighbours, leaving their properties to be divided and colonised, often by as many as thirty poor people.

As Alice walked, hunched into her coat, she caught sight of her friend, Sarah Whitton. She called out, waved and darted over to the other side of the road to talk to her. ‘You not at school either?’

Sarah aimlessly juggled the few groceries she’d just bought from the corner shop. ‘Mum’s took bad again this morning.’

Alice grimaced in sympathy. It was well-known by her neighbours that Mrs Whitton hadn’t been right since her son passed away. He’d caught the whooping cough and died, making the whole road fearful of going the same way. Lenny Whitton had been a strapping lad of fourteen and the consensus of opinion had been that if it took him out, anyone was fair game. In fact only one other person had succumbed and she had been sixty-nine and already in poor health.

Now Sarah’s mum suffered with nerves and spent most of her time shut indoors. She survived by living off her three daughters. Sarah, who’d not yet had her twelfth birthday, spent the weekends doing whatever odd jobs she could find. Ginny Whitton’s husband had departed shortly after Lenny. But he’d gone just around the corner to Lennox Road and a woman who was less trouble to live with.

‘Why aren’t you at school? You bunkin’ off?’ Sarah asked.

‘Nah! I’ve got to look after Lucy ’cos there’s trouble brewin’.’