The Campbell Road Girls

Bill chuckled to himself as he heard Eddie turn the key in the lock. Wherever it was Eddie had hidden his money in the kitchen he wasn’t about to let him, or his wife, know about it. ‘Wise move, mate,’ Bill called drily. ‘Can’t be too careful. Winnie finds yer stash you won’t see her nor it no more.’

Garbled muttering was heard coming from behind the door, then a few moments later Eddie was back with a roll of notes. ‘There, take the fuckin’ lot. You’ve cleaned me out.’ He threw the money on the table.

‘Know what I reckon, Eddie?’ Bill grinned as he collected fivers and tenners. ‘I reckon I should’ve asked fer more because you could pull a grand out of this place if necessary, couldn’t yer?’ He shook his head. ‘Crafty old git.’ He retrieved the ring from his pocket. ‘There, have that, and a good leg-over later, if you let Winifred slip it on. She’ll be staring at that instead of the ceiling for a change, and fantasising you’re Ramon Navarro and she’s Tallulah Bankhead.’ Ignoring Eddie’s scowl he went out guffawing, one hand curved about the cash in his pocket.

Even before he’d heard the front door click shut behind Bill, Eddie was drawing his belt from his trousers. He was seething to have been forced to pay so much for the jewellery. He wasn’t happy either that he’d been forced to scrape together his nest egg in front of his wife; he now needed to find a new hidy-hole. Winifred would have the kitchen upside down looking for it as soon as his back was turned. But there was nothing left to find. Bill had cleaned him out, and Eddie never liked to be without a little bit tucked away. He sent a vicious look ceiling-ward, his lips flat against his teeth as he started towards the door.

Chapter Three (#ulink_f5e1d712-0f5d-5275-918a-0d0862e9c3ca)

‘Why didn’t you let me know you was coming?’

‘Wanted it to be a nice surprise for you.’ Lucy managed to shield her shocked expression against Matilda’s shoulder whilst giving her a fierce hug. Once she’d composed herself she looked up.

Lucy had last seen her mother many months ago during the Easter holiday and had thought then she looked rough. In the meantime, as the hot summer months had passed by, she’d prayed the fine weather would help Matilda recuperate in body and mind, rather than the heatwave exhaust her, for she’d seemed worryingly depressed even before Reg took off. But moments ago, Lucy’s optimism had dwindled. While waiting on the landing to be let in, she’d realised her mother was finding the simple task of opening the door an irritating effort.

Having lugged her trunk and a bag of shopping up the rickety flight of stairs to the first floor, Lucy’s light, teasing ratatat had drawn slow shuffling footsteps and muttered cursing from inside the room. Her first glimpse of haggard features, grey with strain, had been viewed through a narrow aperture and had made Lucy’s spirits plummet. Having identified her visitor Matilda had then found the energy to shove the door wide open and hoarsely whoop in delight. But despite her mother’s enthusiastic welcome Lucy was dismayed by her relapse.

Alice had sent a letter to Essex over a month ago to let her and Sophy know that Reg had done a runner. A long time had passed with no news of him, she’d added, so it seemed unlikely he’d soon be back. Alice had also informed them that their mother was still struggling to get about on her own and was stubbornly refusing to accept neighbours’ help, or to move to Wood Green so Alice could properly care for her.

‘How long you got off work?’ Tilly asked, gripping tightly at Lucy’s hands and pushing her back so she could study her lovely face. ‘Be a treat if you could stay till the weekend.’ Matilda’s customary gruff tone bubbled joyfully at the prospect of having her youngest daughter’s company.

‘I can stay, Mum,’ Lucy confirmed, a smile in her voice. ‘In fact I’ll be able to stay for a while ’cos I’ve got something to tell you.’

‘Good or bad?’ Tilly immediately elbowed free of her daughter’s renewed embrace and took a suspicious peer at her flat belly.

‘Well, I think you’ll reckon it’s good. I’ve come back to London to stay.’

‘To stay?’ Matilda parroted. ‘It’s true then what Margaret said.’ She frowned at Lucy. ‘You after a change of scenery or you got sacked?’ It was barked out indignantly rather than angrily. Of all her daughters, Lucy tended to be proud and impetuous. As a child she’d got into numerous scraps with other kids because of it. Not that Matilda had chided her for that. When you lived in the Bunk you brought up your kids to give as good as they got or they’d have the life bullied out of them. But her youngest could be a bit naïve at times as well as hot-headed. Matilda felt annoyed with herself for not pursuing the matter of Lucy’s employment when Margaret Lovat had first hinted at it, weeks ago.

‘Not got sacked, Mum!’ Lucy chuckled. ‘Got an interview for a job in Bloomsbury.’ She struck a hoity-toity little pose.

Tilly’s lined face softened in relief. ‘In town, eh?’ She nodded to show she was impressed. ‘More money, then?’ she asked, ever prosaic.

‘Hope so; ’cos of my age and lack of experience and so on it’ll all be discussed at the interview. It says so in the letter they’ve sent me. But if it’s a few shillings less I’m not bothered. I’ll be closer to you, anyhow. So even though I’ll be living in I can come ’n’ see you on all of me free afternoons,’ Lucy rattled off. ‘And I’ll be able to meet up with Alice and Beth. I’ll take you out places and we can have some fine times again. It’ll be like before I went away when it was just us two.’

After her other sisters had left to set up their own homes, Tilly’s maternal instinct, no longer diluted by being channelled four ways, had condensed and targeted Lucy. They had grown very close, and her sisters still referred to Lucy as their mother’s blue-eyed girl. The bond had survived Tilly’s volatile nature and heavy drinking, and Lucy leaving home to work in service.

‘And what if you don’t get offered this job, my gel? Bound to be lots of women applyin’ fer a position like that.’

Lucy shrugged insouciantly. ‘I’ll find another agency and go after another job. But I want to have a taste of London life, and I ain’t going back to the sticks and that’s final.’ She gave a crisp nod, setting her thick chestnut hair waving. ‘Not that I could go back anyhow ’cos I told that snooty bitch that married Mr Lockley just what I thought of her before I carried me case out of the back door.’

Matilda grinned despite herself. She liked to know that her daughters didn’t stand for any nonsense, and she recalled that Sophy had described the new mistress as ‘bleedin’ hard work’. ‘Well, you’ll have to get this job then, and once you’ve got it, you keep hold of it.’ Despite being overjoyed to hear her Little Luce was going to be close by, Tilly wagged a cautioning finger at her. ‘Good work’s hard to come by these days. You was lucky getting a job straight from school. And you got yer sister Sophy to thank fer that. You’ve never had it hard, so take it from me, being skint ain’t fun.’

‘Not renting the back room now you’re on yer own?’ Lucy had opened the connecting door and peered in to a dismal space that held nothing but an iron bed with a stained mattress on it, and a wonky tallboy that had a gaping hole right in the centre where the largest drawer should have been. She gazed enquiringly at her mother. Most people who lived in the Bunk and had a bit of spare space would rent it out. Lucy could recall that even when their rooms had been filled to overflowing with family members, Tilly would sometimes take in a temporary lodger for a bit of extra cash. Being the youngest, she’d usually share a bed with her mother and free up just enough space in the back room for another young woman to kip down with Bethany and Alice in the back. It was so unlike her mother to overlook such an opportunity that Lucy repeated her question.

Matilda shook her head. ‘Could do with the rent money all right but can’t be doing with the company.’

‘You can do with the company,’ Lucy disagreed, closing the back room door and approaching her mother. ‘Alice reckons you could do with a hand most days. If you had a lodger ... perhaps a widow or a spinster about your own age who could help out with other things ...’

‘Don’t want no strangers nursemaiding me,’ Tilly brusquely asserted. ‘So don’t think you lot are landing one on me. What else yer sisters been telling you about me behind me back?’

‘It’s not like that, Mum,’ Lucy said briskly. ‘We’re all worried about you, you know. Why won’t you go and live with Alice for a while till you’re feeling better?’

‘Has Alice told you to get on at me about it? If she has I’ll have her hide fer pokin’ her nose in where it’s not wanted.’

‘Alice hasn’t said more’n she’s worried you’ll take another bad fall and end up looking a worse state than you do now.’

‘Look a mess, do I?’ Tilly challenged with grim amusement.

‘I’ve seen you look better. In fact you looked better at Easter,’ Lucy immediately came back with an honest reply. ‘I expected you to be well on the mend by now.’

Matilda ignored that, instead demanding, ‘And I suppose you’ve all been having a chinwag about Reg ’n’ all. What’ve you all been saying about him?’

‘He’s done a runner and left you on yer own.’ It was a concise reply.

‘That’s about the size of it,’ Matilda agreed. ‘Ain’t talking about him neither. He’s gone and forgotten, and that’s that.’ A moment later she’d rescinded that vow. ‘You don’t seem surprised about him going.’

Lucy shrugged. ‘Last time I was here I could tell things weren’t right between you. You were both snapping and snarling more than usual.’

‘He’s gone back to Ireland.’

‘Back to Ireland?’ Lucy echoed, her eyes widening in surprise. None of her sisters had heard that bit of news as far as she was aware. ‘What, for good?’

‘Dunno,’ Matilda replied. ‘Yesterday I went up to Smithie’s shop.’ She sent her daughter a sour smile. ‘See, I can do the trip on me own, if I have to. Anyhow, I bumped into Reg’s friend Vince. He looked a bit embarrassed; don’t know why ’cos I never had a habit of questioning him about Reg. So, he just come out with it and said Reg had caught the boat back a few weeks previous.’

Lucy had met Vince a few times and thought him a weasely sort of fellow. ‘Perhaps he was just saying that, Mum, ’cos he felt awkward and wanted to nip off.’

‘Just said I never pestered him over Reg. Don’t matter anyway; let him stay in Ireland, for all I care. Seen him in his true colours now, ain’t I?’ Matilda pursed her lips. ‘Bleedin’ good job, weren’t it, we never did the “in sickness and in health” bit,’ she added bitterly.

Despite Matilda’s bravado Lucy could tell her mother was getting upset talking about the man who’d abandoned her. She and her sisters, along with most of Campbell Road’s inhabitants, were aware that Reg ought to have been at home with their mother on the night their evil uncle had turned up with murderous intentions. Nobody really blamed Reg for allowing himself to be waylaid by a pal for a drink in a pub; but then nobody blamed Tilly either for being unrelentingly resentful that he had.

That horrible night had been a catalogue of calamity for their family. On the very same night, their cousin, Robert Wild, Jimmy’s son, had been beaten up so badly by thugs that he’d nearly died. The disasters had been like toppling dominoes: one setting the other in motion. A shiver rippled through Lucy at the memory of the dreadful months that had followed when they’d feared Matilda and Robert might both die of their injuries.

Determinedly, Lucy cheered herself up and, to impress on her mum that she was definitely not returning to Essex, she briskly dragged her case in from the landing. She left the trunk against the wall but plonked the shopping bag down on the table. ‘Here,brought us in a nice couple of currant buns so let’s get that kettle on.’

‘Those from Travis’s?’ Tilly grumpily interrogated. ‘You know I only like stuff from the Travis bakery.’

‘Yeah, Mum,’ Lucy mocked in a dreary tone that transformed in to a chuckle. Like her sisters, she was used to Tilly’s deliberately contrary ways. ‘They are from old man Travis. The dirty old git don’t change, do he? Still stares straight at me chest when he serves me.’

Tilly opened the paper bag and her eyes lit up as a spicy scent wafted to her nostrils. It was a treat for her to have something fresh and tasty. To save herself the ordeal of a trip out, or the need to ask a neighbour for a favour, she ate little and made what she had last.

Lucy picked up the kettle and gave it a shake to see if there was enough water in it for a pot of tea. She pulled out a chair for her mother to sink into, for she’d noticed Tilly had been holding on to the table edge to ease the weight off her legs. ‘Sit yourself down again, Mum, and I’ll make a brew. Have you got any jam to put in these buns?’

Ten minutes later the tea was made and the buns split and spread with marge as Tilly hadn’t got any jam.

‘So when’s your interview?’ Tilly took a large bite out of the warm, aromatic bun. Any currants that escaped were picked from her plate and popped in her mouth.

‘Ten o’clock on Friday, Bloomsbury.’ Lucy brushed crumbs from her lips with her fingertips. ‘A Mrs Venner is the housekeeper and a Mrs Boyd is me senior. I’ll be seeing them both in Mrs Venner’s office. It’s a posh establishment, by the sound of things; belongs to a Lord and Lady Mortimer in Bedford Square.’ She raised her eyebrows, displaying pride at the prospect of working for the aristocracy. ‘Don’t suppose I’ll get to see much of them. The housekeeper and the lady’s maid’ll be me guvnors.’