KAY BRELLEND
The Family

For my sons, with love

Table of Contents

Cover

Title Page

Dedication

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five

Chapter Twenty-Six

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Epilogue

Acknowledgements

About the Author

Copyright

About the Publisher

PROLOGUE

November 1919

‘Shut up making that racket, fer Gawd’s sake, you’re not a kid any more.’

Robert Wild glowered at his younger brother, who was cuffing tears and snot from his face, then snapped defiant eyes to a couple hovering close by. They were frowning in censure rather than sympathy as Stephen carried on sobbing his heart out. The bigger boy stared back belligerently until the woman gripped her companion’s elbow, urging him to hurry on.

Yanking at his brother’s arm, Robert steered him into the grimy corridor of the Duke of Edinburgh pub. From beyond the closed door of the saloon bar they could hear their kith and kin, voices raised in revelry; it served only to increase Stephen’s misery.

‘They ain’t bothered she’s dead, are they?’ he hiccupped. ‘Just us, ain’t it, who’s real upset?’

‘’Course they’re bothered,’ Robert muttered. ‘Only it won’t be till they’ve sobered up that they’ll remember it.’ From his superior height he cast a look at the top of his brother’s wiry dark curls, glistening with droplets from the November night air. ‘Want a drink?’ he asked in an attempt to cheer Stephen up. ‘I mean a proper drink, not another sup of shandy.’

Stephen shook his head then let his chin drop towards his chest. He stuffed his icy fingers into his pockets to warm them.

‘I’m gettin’ one,’ Robert stated confidently. The door to the saloon bar was within arm’s reach, but he stayed where he was. Much as he would have liked to enter and buy himself an ale, he wasn’t old enough to be served; besides, he had no money. It would have been easy enough to cadge one off somebody, but right now he couldn’t stir up the cheek to do it. Hearing his name called, he raised a lethargic hand in greeting as two young women emerged from the twilight, huddled in their coats. Alice and Bethany Keiver were their cousins, and their friends.

‘Had enough in there with that rowdy lot?’ Alice asked gently, putting an arm about Stevie’s slumped shoulders. She offered no more words of sympathy; she and her sisters had given the boys enough support earlier that day. Having only recently lost people they loved to the Great War, the Keivers knew that pity, however well meant, should have its limits. But Alice’s voice throbbed with emotion when she suggested, ‘Why don’t you both come up the station with us and see Sophy off?’ She cocked her head, waiting for an answer. ‘We’re going to fetch little Luce and let her come with us. It’s way past her bedtime.’ She grinned, thinking how excited her seven-year-old sister would be about going out with the grown-ups so late at night. ‘Come on,’ Alice urged, ‘Sophy’s catching her train in about half an hour.’

Sophy, the eldest of the Keiver girls, was in service in Essex. She’d travelled down yesterday, but her employer was not prepared to give her more than a day’s leave to see her Aunt Fran laid to rest, so she had promised to return within hours of the funeral.

‘Yeah, it’ll give you both something to do. Take your minds off things. We can get some chips on the way back,’ Bethany encouraged. ‘You hungry, Stevie?’ she asked brightly.

He shook his head, snorting back a sob.

‘We’re all right,’ Robert said gruffly. ‘Goin’ off home soon in any case.’ This was a lie. Neither he nor Stevie wanted to return to the dank, depressing room in Campbell Road where they lived. Better to loiter on the corner of Fonthill Road, breathing in air so cold it glassed their throats, than return to a place where their mum’s whispering presence seemed to melt into every shadow.

‘Best be off then,’ Alice murmured and the two sisters walked on arm in arm in the direction of Campbell Road, heads down against the drifting mist.

Stephen raised his bloodshot eyes to Robert’s face. ‘What we gonna do now Mum’s gone?’ he croaked.

‘Same as we did before,’ Robert returned. ‘No, that ain’t right,’ he corrected himself with a bleak smile. ‘I’ll be doin’ the same as before, but you won’t.’ His tone grew bitterly ironic. ‘Come Monday morning, you’ll be out o’ school and knockin’ yer guts out down the market, same as me. I was thirteen when I started work, so it ain’t gonna kill you, doin’ the same. We’re going to need every penny we can get to pay the rent and get fed now Mum’s not around, so you’ve gotta do your bit.’

‘But I ain’t thirteen,’ Stevie whimpered.

‘Soon will be. You’re close enough.’

At this, Stevie’s fragile composure crumbled and he started sobbing again, head hanging between his hunched shoulders.

‘Bawlin’ ain’t gonna help,’ Robert said quietly. He’d learned young to control his tears. His lash-happy father had taught him that all crying got you was something else to howl about.

The saloon door suddenly swung outward and Robert dodged nimbly aside to avoid a blow from its iron handle.

‘Wondered where the pair of you had got to. What you doing out here all on yer own?’ Tilly Keiver asked in her whiskey-grizzled voice. ‘Come back inside. It’s bleedin’ freezin’ by this doorway.’ She tilted her head to examine her youngest nephew’s blotchy face. ‘Come on, Stevie, mate,’ she encouraged him, putting a red-raw hand on one of his shoulders. Through the rough fabric of his coat she gave his thin frame a squeeze. ‘Yer mum’s watchin’ over you, y’know. She wouldn’t want you so upset on her account.’ Tilly’s voice had thickened with emotion and she blinked as heat blurred her eyes. She’d been very close to her sister and had been distraught when the Spanish flu had finally overcome her. Fran had put up a fight for almost a month, but it had come as no surprise when she’d grown too weak to battle on. In a way it had been a blessing to see her suffering at an end.

Putting her lips close to Robert’s ear, she whispered conspiratorially, ‘Let’s get the two of yers a little summat to warm the cockles, shall we?’

Robert recoiled slightly as her alcoholic breath wafted across his face. But he smiled. He could do with a bevy, all right. Despite being a good height and well built for his fourteen years, the publicans around the Islington area knew him and his family well; they knew how old he was and would only serve him on the sly now and again when they were feeling friendly. When he could afford it, Robert frequented hostelries further afield.

‘Get yerselves sat down by the window, outta sight.’ Tilly pointed to a bench and the two brothers slid obediently on to its smooth shiny surface and watched their aunt disappear into the thick atmosphere. The pub was packed with mourners, yet few had bothered to turn to acknowledge them this time. The wake had been going on for hours and most people were too far gone to remember the poor orphan lads they’d consoled at the cemetery that afternoon, then later when they’d all first filed soberly into the saloon bar. Robert had known what was behind their crooning voices and sad smiles as he received hugs and handshakes from one and all.

Poor sods, they’d all been thinking, they’re orphans, even if they are almost grown and one of them already out earning. Stevie’s going to be a burden on Rob if he don’t toughen up. What a family! Their old man was a wrong ’un and did them all a turn by going missing during the war. But now Fran Wild’s kids have got no mum, no money, and no nothing … except one another.

As they’d offered up their pity, and their silent prayers that such bad luck might pass their own kids by, Robert had stared into their eyes, and known exactly what was going through their minds. He’d made himself a promise: by the time he was twenty, they’d be looking at him in a different light. And if there was an afterlife, and his mum was watching over him and Stevie, for the first time in her miserable existence she’d be feeling happy and proud. He’d make sure of that.

ONE

Early June 1927

‘Gawd help us! Thought you was dead. Everybody thinks yer dead, y’know.’

‘Well … I ain’t …’ Teeth tightened against his lips, the sallow-faced fellow gestured that further explanation wasn’t going to be forthcoming and yanked his arm free of the woman’s restraint. He’d been on the point of buying a baked potato from a trader when she’d accosted him. Now he grabbed his thrupenny bit back from the merchant and dropped the hot tater on to the tray. Eyes darting to and fro, he retreated from the stall then turned to barge a path through the crowd thronging Dartford marketplace.

‘’Course you’d know yer wife got sick ’n’ died, God rest her soul. Spanish flu, it was.’ The woman doggedly pursued him, dodging past limbs in an attempt to catch up. ‘But then the two of yers had been livin’ apart for some while, hadn’t you?’ she shouted in his wake, puffing along with her shopping bag of vegetables banging against a stout leg. She angled her head to read his reaction. Her expression betrayed a mixture of fascination and horror as it clung to his back. In common with a lot of people, she’d been secretly pleased to assume that this nasty individual’s disappearance had been due to him pushing up daisies.

‘Nice to see you, Lou.’ The remark was delivered over a shoulder in a scathing tone. ‘But I’ve gotta be off.’ He continued barging his way through the crowd, uncaring of the pained grunts of those he elbowed aside.

‘Yer youngest lad’s getting wed soon. Yer oldest boy’s done all right fer himself.’ Lou Perkins had given up the chase and stood wheezing and wondering how on earth she’d recognised him. It was close to ten years since she’d seen him, but he looked twenty years older and, from the crater in one of his cheeks, appeared to have been in the wars. But for having noticed the snake tattoo on one of his naked forearms, and thinking it looked familiar, she might not have bothered to peer again at his grizzled face. ‘Got houses, ’n’ a car too, he has …’ Her voice tailed off as he vanished into the throng. She shook her head in mute amazement. She’d only made the trip to Dartford to give her sister a hand. The poor cow had knocked out five nippers in seven years and was due to drop the sixth at any moment. Lou was a dab hand at helping babies into the world. In fact, she recalled trying to help that fellow’s wife give birth to her third child. It had been a tragedy when the little girl had finally been delivered stillborn after a long labour. She continued staring although he was lost to view. Had she been able to pursue him she’d have seen the fellow dodge down an alley and come to a stop, a decidedly foxy smile crinkling features that moments before had been resentfully set. Knowing him the way she did, she’d have realised that it was learning about Robert’s flash lifestyle, rather than Stephen’s forthcoming wedding that had brought about the transformation.

Lou started to trudge back through the market place. She’d come out for a breather and to do a bit of shopping for the kids’ teas. Now she wished she was heading back to Islington straight away instead of in a fortnight’s time. She reckoned when she did return the tale she’d got to tell would keep her in drinks in the Pooles Park Tavern for a couple of months at least. Jimmy Wild might look like death warmed up, but he was definitely very much alive! What a turn-up!

Ten days later

‘Coming back inside?’

‘Just finish this and I will.’ Robert Wild drew deeply on his cigarette. He turned to face his brother, head tilted back as a smoke ring escaped his lips to drift towards the sky. ‘Happy?’

‘Yeah, course … me wedding night, ain’t it?’ Stevie grinned. ‘Ain’t a man alive who wouldn’t be happy, knowing he’s got that to look forward to.’

‘Yeah …’ Robert’s smile was rather wry; they both knew the wedding night had come early. Robert hoped the kid wouldn’t too. That’d give every gossiping old biddy a field day in around six months’ time. He loosened his collar to let air to his damp throat. It was mid-June and despite the lateness of the hour the sultry heat felt as unbearable as it had at noon. The twilight had not properly descended and above their heads stars sparkled faintly in a sky still blue.

Robert extended the packet of Players that had been idly cradled in a fist. His brother withdrew one, stuck it between his lips and struck a match.

‘Got to thank you for all this …’ Stevie started gruffly, staring at the glowing ash between his fingers. ‘Me ’n’ Pam know we owe you a lot.’ He shuffled and stuck his free hand in the pocket of his tailored jacket, ruining the lines of his smart bridegroom’s outfit. ‘She’s sent me out to look for you and bring you back inside. She wants me to do a speech in there saying thanks and so on in front of everyone.’ A backwards flick of his head indicated the Duke of Edinburgh pub, where his wedding reception had been underway for some time in a private room with trestle tables groaning under platters of delicious food and a free bar until ten o’clock.

There was more grub on display this evening than Stevie reckoned he’d put away over his twenty years. But then being hungry had been part and parcel of his and Robert’s childhood, so at first he’d reasoned that he might not be qualified to judge whether it was a proper feast. He’d listened to his wife’s parents – who claimed to be of good stock although they were so tight-fisted you’d think they didn’t have a pot to piss in – gawping awestruck at the spread as though plucking up the courage to dive in. Stephen had smiled to himself and in a deliberately loud voice encouraged them to fill their boots.

Robert had paid for everything, right down to the bride and bridesmaid’s dresses and the flowers. His in-laws might think they were a class above, but they’d never found the manners to offer a contribution to the cost of marrying off their daughter. Considering her condition, if they’d put off until her old man prised open his wallet they’d have been celebrating a christening before the wedding. Not, of course, that the old miser knew that his little princess was up the spout.

‘Come back inside or she’ll be nagging me for the rest of the night …’

‘No need for any of that,’ Robert cut him off. He ground the stub of his cigarette underfoot. ‘You already thanked me enough, and I told you – you don’t owe me. It’s your wedding present.’ He smiled. ‘Saved me a job traipsing round in Gamages looking for a vase.’ He strolled towards the pub entrance and raised his voice to be heard over the cacophony from within. ‘Still time for a few bevvies before chucking-out time.’

The brightly lit pub seemed to rock on its foundations with the wedding guests’ roistering. They’d been at it for several hours and would probably continue for several more before the landlord called time. A piano was being bashed fit to shatter the keys and a female voice was warbling at full volume. Beyond the frosted glass, the heads of dancing couples waltzed by.

‘Ever think of Dad?’

Robert stopped dead and turned. Even though he’d been gone from their lives almost ten years now, the mention of Jimmy Wild had the power to tilt his guts. He came back towards Stevie so they could converse in a normal tone rather than holler at one another across the pavement.

‘Never give the shit a thought,’ he lied. ‘You?’

‘Dreamed of him last night,’ Stevie said hoarsely. He smiled diffidently. ‘Can’t put it out of me mind. We was all back in The Bunk. You, me, Mum, all of us. Number twenty-seven, it was. It was morning and we was getting ready for school and he’d given Mum a good hiding over something; then he started on me ’cos he checked the sheets and knew I’d wet the bed.’ He gave a self-conscious chuckle. ‘Then Aunt Til come barging in, Uncle Jack ’n’ all. Old Til started squaring up to Dad and he slunk off out, like he always did … like butter wouldn’t melt …’

For a moment there was a protracted quiet as both men recalled how often that scene had been played out in their early years. Robert slung an arm about Stevie’s shoulders. ‘That ain’t a dream, mate, that’s a nightmare. And it’ll be down to the amount of booze you knocked back on your stag night.’ With an attempt at drollery he added, ‘But you’re sober now. Sweet dreams from now on.’

‘Yeah …’ Stevie said, but he sounded unconvinced.

‘Look, I know your wedding day’s a time for reflecting. But there’s better things to think about than getting a hidin’ off that bastard ’cos you wet the bed when you was little.’ Robert patted his brother’s shoulder. ‘If you’ve got to reminisce, think about how happy Mum’d be to see you togged out in all yer duds and how she’d love to know her first grandchild’s on the way too.’

Stevie blinked in alarm. ‘Not so loud! It’s supposed to be a secret,’ he muttered, glancing about for eavesdroppers. ‘Pam’s still not told her folks. Bleedin’ good job she’s not yet got a belly on her.’

‘Now you done the right thing by her, they ain’t going to care either way.’ Robert took his brother’s lapels between his fingers and straightened them. He re-pinned his carnation with deliberate slowness to allow his brother to blink the glistening tears from his eyes. ‘Come on, you daft git, forget about the past. You got a future with Pam and a baby to think about now.’ He gripped Stevie’s shoulders in an encouraging way. ‘Your wife ain’t going to thank you for going soft on her tonight, you know,’ he lewdly mocked.

Stevie sniffed a laugh, still blinking rapidly. ‘I know you shouldn’t say it about your own, but … God, am I glad he’s six foot under.’

‘Everyone’s glad he’s gone,’ Robert said brusquely. ‘Now that’s enough about him; this is a day to enjoy and I ain’t talking about any of it no more.’

‘If you two don’t come back in, I’ll bring the party out here.’ Silhouetted in the aperture of the pub doorway was a young woman dressed in a white silk sheath that stopped short of her knees and displayed her shapely legs. She sashayed forward a few steps then hopped and removed first one then the other of her shoes and carried them with her. ‘Gawd, me dogs aren’t half barking. Old uncle Ned must’ve trod on me feet a dozen times when we was doing the Charleston.’ She slipped her arm through her husband’s. ‘What you two doing out here?’ She gave her brother-in-law a meaningful look, whilst massaging sore toes. ‘What’ve you been up to, Rob? Vicky’s been looking for you. I reckon she thinks you’ve gone off her.’ She paused, hoping for an answer but all she got was an indifferent shrug. ‘We saw the way Gloria was making a play for you earlier.’ Stevie’s new wife slanted her sly eyes up at her brother-in-law. ‘In case you don’t know the rules, Robert Wild, the best man’s supposed to get off with the bridesmaid, not the tart behind the bar.’

‘I’ve been enjoying a smoke,’ Robert explained smoothly and ignored the rest.

A subtle glance passed between the brothers.

An hour earlier Stevie had stepped into the Duke’s corridor just in time to see his brother gliding downstairs shrugging on his jacket. Gloria had reappeared a moment or two later and taken up position behind the bar looking flushed and secretly pleased. Robert had made sure he’d timed it right: the drinking by that time was well under way and the pair of them wouldn’t have been absent long enough to arouse any suspicions. Stevie knew if he hadn’t happened to nip out for a smoke and a breath of air, he’d have been none the wiser either. Robert didn’t boast about his conquests, or anything else he had.

Gloria was a looker with a magnificent bust that magnetised a man’s eyes from the moment he was over the Duke’s threshold. Stevie wouldn’t blame any bloke for taking off her what was offered on a plate, even if the chance had come up during his wedding reception and the girl with an ambition to become Robert’s sweetheart was Pam’s bridesmaid. Stevie knew his wife’s friend was kidding herself. So did Robert, although he seemed in no hurry to shatter Vicky’s illusions about hooking him. His brother wouldn’t restrict himself to just one woman. Pam could matchmake all she liked, but Robert would take or leave Vicky Watson, just as he had all the others who’d believed they could rein him in and get his ring on their finger.

At that moment Vicky flounced out on to the pavement. ‘So, where’ve you been?’ she demanded of Robert, fanning her sulky face with a hand.

‘I’ve been right here. Why d’you want to know?’

A sheepish smile was Vicky’s apology and she fixed her eyes on the cigarette packet rotating idly in his hands. ‘I wouldn’t mind a fag.’

Robert offered her the cigarettes and once she’d taken one and he’d lit it, he started towards the pub. Vicky quickly slipped her arm through his and the newly married couple followed, locked in an embrace that made them stumble and giggle. Stevie swung his new bride into his arms and carried her wriggling over the threshold.

‘That’s you two sorted out for later. That’s my boys.’ The growling voice erupted in a lascivious chuckle.

Robert glanced over his shoulder to see a couple, half shadowed by a high wall, watching them.

‘Piss off, mate. Private party.’ Robert had already ejected several gatecrashers from the reception. The chance of a free feed and unlimited booze was too hard to resist for most people who lived around Campbell Road and struggled to put a plate of chips on the table. Once news of the wedding had got around, half of The Bunk’s inhabitants had been angling for invitations to the reception.

‘That’s no way to speak to yer old dad, Bobbie.’

It was a moment before Robert pivoted about. Only a few people called him Bobbie now. Family, mostly.

‘Remember me?’

Now the ribaldry was gone, Robert realised the voice was the same even if the man in front of him looked to be a pale imitation of his former self.

The father he remembered had been a muscled fellow with a dark head of hair and a lean face. The man sauntering towards them looked to have shrivelled in height and ballooned in weight. He appeared, too, to be fair-headed but was, Robert realised, almost completely grey. But his eyes, dark and sharp, were the same, pinning him down, still no escape.

For a moment Robert felt rooted to the spot, trapped in his brother’s nightmare of last night. He licked his parched lips and shot a look at his brother. Stevie was gawping at him, slack-jawed, waiting for reassurance that it was just a phantom and everything was going to be all right.

‘Go back inside.’ It was a hoarse murmur as Robert disentangled his arm from Vicky’s clutch and gave the middle of her back a little push to hurry her on her way.

She tottered forward with a mew of indignation.

‘Go inside, Pam,’ Robert ordered his sister-in-law, his voice strengthening.

She looked mutinous, but Stevie dropped her quickly to her feet, where she landed in an ungainly hobble. He nodded vigorously at her to do as she’d been told. His obvious agitation prompted her to obey, albeit with a sullen expression.

‘What the fuck d’you want?’ Robert spat through his teeth as soon as the two young women had disappeared into the pub.

‘We thought you died in the war. We thought you was dead.’ Stevie’s words emerged in a strange, high-pitched whine.

‘Ain’t dead, son.’

It had been said in that gentle way Jimmy had that had always set Rob’s teeth on edge. His crooning voice had been as deceitful as everything else about him. Robert took a step forward to put himself between his father and his brother.

‘Just some real bad things was goin’ on at the time and I had to get away,’ Jimmy continued in his dreary drawl. ‘Best thing for everyone, you see, for me to disappear fer a while.’

‘Best thing now ’n’ all,’ Robert ejected through his teeth. ‘So get goin’ ’n’ don’t ever come back. There’s nothing here for you. D’you understand? Nothing.’

‘That ain’t nice, Bobbie.’ Jimmy sounded plaintive. ‘I come to wish me son all the best for his future happiness, ain’t I?’

‘How d’you know I was getting wed?’ Stevie had recovered a little from his shock. Although he was visibly shaking, he had a few questions ready. He grabbed the cigarettes from Rob and fumbled to get one lit then dragged deeply on it. ‘You been spyin’ on me? How d’you know anything about me now?’

‘Just ’cos I ain’t been around, don’t mean I ain’t been keepin’ a watchful eye on yers. You’re me flesh ’n’ blood.’

Robert threw back his head and roared out a vicious laugh. He took a menacing pace forward, stopping Jimmy from coming any closer to his brother. Their father had been edging forward one step at a time and Robert knew it was his intention to win them over with his wonky smile and weasel words. When they were kids it might have worked; just as a whipping with a belt had worked. But it was different now.

‘This ain’t the time fer none of yer lies,’ Robert enunciated through stretched lips. ‘If you care about Steve’s future happiness you’ll fuck off now and stay away from all of us.’ He jabbed a finger close to Jimmy’s chin. Now he was within striking distance he could see what the dusk had disguised. One side of his father’s face now had a slightly concave shape as though, at some time during the last decade, his cheekbone had been smashed. ‘So get going or there’s gonna be blood ’n’ guts all over the place.’ Robert leaned forward. ‘We ain’t scared of you now. You’re nothing to us and we ain’t interested in any of yer threats or promises …’

‘Bobbie … hang on … let’s hear where he’s been …’ Stephen had reverted to using his childhood name, something he hadn’t done in many years. Robert knew that hearing Jimmy use it had prompted him to do so and it enraged him. He swung about and glared at his brother.

‘You’re not wanted here.’ Robert sent that over a shoulder at his father as he gripped Stephen’s arm and shoved him towards the pub.

‘We goin’ in fer a drink, Jim? Could do with a drink, Jim.’ The woman who’d been lurking quietly by the kerb took a pace forward. Her short, skinny body had easily been overlooked in the shadowy gloom. But now she nervously approached. Edie Greaves had need of a drink and Jimmy had promised her he knew of a place where they could go this evening and get treated handsomely for free. In fact, he’d been promising her many good things would come their way once they got to Islington. In Edie’s eyes, the only benefit so far had been in managing to abscond and leave a pile of debts behind in Kent.

Robert turned back just in time to note the change in his father’s attitude. He recognised the look gripping Jimmy’s sagging face and it turned his guts. Jimmy sorely wanted to tell the woman to shut up or, as he’d frequently done with their mother, stop her complaints with his fist. But he couldn’t because he was putting on an act for them all. The prodigal father had come to give his blessing to his son’s marriage. Like fuck! Robert knew that if this miserable, cowardly excuse for a man had come to find them it was because he wanted something very badly. The crafty bastard had probably already made it his business to find out that Stephen had nothing to offer, so Robert knew it was him he was after. Somehow, Jimmy Wild had discovered he’d done all right for himself and had come back to Islington to see what was in it for him.

‘What’s goin’ on?’ Matilda Keiver came bursting out of the pub trailing people in her wake. ‘Pam said there’s a feller being a nuisance. Want him shifted, Rob?’ The crowd behind her chortled and encouraged her playful belligerence. Everyone knew Tilly Keiver wasn’t frightened of a fight. If a bloke needed a slap, she was the one to give it to him. And he’d come off worst. Her nephews knew her reputation too, and would usually have laughed along with the others.

But they didn’t; and after a moment it penetrated Matilda’s booze-fuddled brain that something wasn’t right. She marched forward, whiskey glass in hand, squinting into the dusk to see who was causing a ruckus at her nephew’s big day. After their mum had died, and when they were just starting out fending for themselves as young teenagers, Tilly had done what she could to help Rob and Steve even though money was tight for her too as a war widow. She still treated Fran’s boys as an extension of her own family. Today she’d had the status of the groom’s mother, and the bride’s family were duly conscious of her role.

Tilly stopped and frowned at the man lounging against a wall a few feet away.

‘Hello, Tilly. Remember me?’

At the sound of his voice, she froze, open-mouthed, her whiskey hovering by her lips. A moment later the glass slipped from her nerveless fingers and shattered on the ground, spattering her shins and the hem of her best dress.

‘Jimmy?’ she gasped, and tottered a step closer, her head leading the way as though she were trying to identify a deadly reptile without getting close enough for it to strike.

‘Long time no see,’ he murmured, grinning at her. ‘Bet you missed me, ain’t yer?’

At this she bounded forward, letting fly with her fists. ‘You fuckin’ bastard! You should be dead!’ She sobbed in anguish.

Jimmy ducked easily out of the way of her assault. ‘No need fer that, Til. I’d’ve got you another drink, gel, honest!’ He hadn’t lost the knack of winding her up in a way that only she could hear and understand. ‘Still need the booze then, do yer?’ he laughed, fending her off as her clawed fingers flew at his face.

And that was all the private chat they managed after not seeing one another for almost ten years. The next moment Edie Greaves had hold of Tilly’s thick, fiery hair and was yanking back her head to slap her face. Robert landed a heavy hand on his father’s chest and shoved him so hard he was freed from Tilly’s grip and went tottering backwards until he collapsed on his backside on the pavement.

More people had come out of the pub to see what was going on. Alice Chaplin rushed to her mother’s side and a moment later her sister Bethany joined her in trying to prise the two women apart. As Edie stumbled away, breathing hard, Tilly drew back her lips in a snarl and landed a final punch on the side of her opponent’s head.

‘Come back tomorrer and have some more,’ Tilly spat at her, knuckling blood from her lips.

‘For Gawd’s sake! What’s going on?’ Alice demanded, gazing horrified at her mother’s cut mouth.

Trying not to meet her eyes, Tilly put an arm round Alice’s shoulders. ‘Let’s get back inside,’ she muttered hoarsely, shrugging off concerned guests who’d come to her aid. Catching sight of Pam’s mother, who was gawping at her with disgust, Tilly tilted up her chin and gave her such a fierce look the woman scuttled back through the Duke’s doors.

‘Little Alice … you’ve grown, ain’t yer?’

Alice looked about to see where the voice had come from. There was something horribly familiar about it, and instinctively her stomach had lurched. But her mother had hold of her arm and was forcefully steering her towards the pub. Breaking free of her mother’s grip, she turned with an unaccountable feeling of dread. It was then that she saw him. He was still sitting on the pavement, but comfortably now, as though he liked it there, with his arms clasped about his knees. ‘Did you marry the lanky git who lived next door?’ Jimmy asked. ‘Geoff Lovat, weren’t it? He were right sweet on you, as I recall …’

Alice glanced over at her husband, her eyes wild with terror, her heart drumming so fast she feared it might burst from her chest. Josh Chaplin had their daughter in his arms. Lilian was still sleeping, undisturbed by the pandemonium. He quickly handed over his precious burden to a woman close by in readiness to rush to his wife’s aid, but by the time he reached her she’d crumpled unconscious to the floor.

TWO

‘I did feel a right fool, fainting like that.’

‘All things considered, it’s lucky you didn’t have a bleedin’ heart attack,’ Tilly returned forcefully. ‘Or me, fer that matter,’ she continued in a mutter. Slanting a look at her daughter, she poured her a cup of tea then pulled out a chair opposite her at the table. A silence settled on the two women as they brooded on their own thoughts, elbows on the splintered tabletop, cups cradled in their palms.

A few days had passed since Stevie’s wedding reception had been ruined by Jimmy Wild’s reappearance in the land of the living. The party had broken up after the commotion, despite the newly wed couple’s half-hearted attempt to persuade people to jolly up and stay a while longer. The bride’s parents had been the first to leave. Mr and Mrs Plummer had scrambled to collect their coats and fled, relatives in tow. Tilly had felt like telling them that their daughter had a bun in the oven, just to wipe the contempt from their faces. But by then everyone had had enough. The festive atmosphere had vanished. The immediate family had been too preoccupied with the turbulent emotions and memories stirred up by Jimmy’s resurfacing; the guests couldn’t wait to get out and spread the gossip. Even for this neighbourhood, where calamity and drama were regular visitors, this was sensational news.

Tilly and Alice had not seen each other since that evening. Once Alice had revived from her faint, Robert had insisted on taking Alice, Josh and little Lilian home in his car. Today it was business as usual for those in employment, but Alice had taken a day off from her job as a charwoman. Abandoning her usual routine of taking Lilian with her to clients’ houses, she had set out early and dropped her daughter off with her mother-in-law to be looked after for an hour or two whilst she visited Tilly. Normally she would have walked, but today she had caught the bus from Wood Green to Islington. There was an urgency about this visit that justified the fare being spent.

‘He was dead!’ Alice whispered, shaking her head in disbelief. ‘He was dead, wasn’t he, Mum?’ she pleaded. ‘All that blood …’ Her voice tailed off.

‘Seems he wasn’t. He must’ve just been knocked unconscious after yer aunt Fran whacked him with that iron pot …’ Tilly shuddered. ‘Did you notice that dent in his cheek?’ She clamped her lips together. ‘No point in going over it now. I put it out me mind years ago and it’s staying out.’

‘Should we tell Rob and Steve what actually went on?’ Alice asked with an apprehensive glance at her mother. ‘I know we’ve never lied, rather just avoided the subject, but …’

‘No!’ Tilly harshly interrupted. ‘Let sleeping dogs lie where they’re concerned. No point in upsetting them more’n they are already. If they’re interested in knowing where he’s been, or why he disappeared, they’ll have to ask Jimmy for answers.’

‘Will he tell them the truth, d’you reckon?’

‘If he does, it’ll be the first time in his miserable life,’ Tilly grimly replied. She pursed her lips. ‘He won’t want his sons, or anybody else for that matter, knowing he went on a rampage that night and we managed to turn the tables on him.’ Matilda slid a look up at Alice. ‘What did Josh have to say about it all?’

Alice shook her head in despair. ‘He doesn’t know what to think or to say, same as me.’ Her dark eyes seemed huge in her pale face as she gazed at Tilly. She knew that the same dark thoughts and secrets were circling in both their minds, but that didn’t make it any easier to speak about it. ‘I can’t stop thinking about Geoff. He was too young to fight, but he went to war anyway because of Jimmy’s wickedness. He died thinking he’d killed him.’ Tears of frustration glistened in Alice’s eyes as she remembered the strong, handsome youth she’d considered to be her best friend a decade ago.

Geoff had saved her from being molested by her uncle and, during a vicious fight, and in self-defence, had stabbed Jimmy with his own knife. On that dreadful night she’d been out with Geoff and had returned home to discover her monster of an uncle battering and attempting to rape her mother. She’d never forget the sickening sight of her mum’s bloodied face, or Jimmy’s penis poking out of his dirty underclothes as he loomed over Tilly sprawled, semi-conscious, on the floor. Alice knew that harrowing scene would remain in her memory until she died. When she tried to flee to get help, Jimmy had turned his attention on her, forcing her down on to the bed. With her mother too badly injured to protect her, it had been sheer good luck that Geoff was still close by and had heard her scream. He’d raced to her aid, and in doing so had forfeited his life.

There wasn’t a day went by that she didn’t devote private minutes to Geoff’s memory. Why would she not, when he’d sacrificed everything for her?

When she’d been growing up in Campbell Road the Lovat family had lived next door. Her big sister Sophy had married Danny Lovat, the eldest child of Bert and Margaret Lovat. The Lovats were still Tilly’s neighbours although they’d moved to the better end of Campbell Road where they’d got more room for their brood, most of whom still lived at home. The Lovats had been guests at Stevie’s wedding and had been as flabbergasted as everyone else to discover that Jimmy Wild was not dead.

But Bert and Margaret were not among the handful of people who knew why Jimmy had suddenly vanished from The Bunk. They would not have understood why his turning up alive was so devastating for Matilda and Alice. And they certainly had no idea that their son’s abrupt decision to go to war had been prompted by his role in Jimmy’s disappearance. At eighteen, Geoff had perished fighting in Flanders, as had Alice’s father.

‘Damn shame the swine ain’t dead.’ Tilly’s mouth pressed into a hard line. ‘Still, it don’t matter. Alive, dead – he’s nothing to us now. He can crawl back under his stone and stay there. I’m just glad yer Aunt Fran ain’t here to see the day.’

Tilly fingered her healing lip. She didn’t bear a grudge against Jimmy’s other half for clumping her. If the woman hadn’t been with him for long she might not know better than to stick up for the evil git. It had taken her sister Fran fifteen years to finally turn her back on him. This new woman had shown her loyalty in public, but what went on behind their closed doors was anybody’s guess. Tilly could guess. She knew Jimmy Wild would never change.

‘That poor cow he’s got in tow don’t know what she’s let herself in for. There’s plenty of people round here could tell her her fortune if she sticks with him.’ She grunted a sour laugh. ‘Nellie’ll give her a piece of advice,’ she said, mentioning one of Jimmy’s fancy women. Nellie Tucker had been a looker in her time and choosy in her punters, but now she’d grown blowsy and turned tuppenny tricks for drunks coming out of pubs. Tilly reckoned that every woman who came into contact with Jimmy Wild would be degraded by the experience. She’d fought hard to prevent it happening to her.

A knock on the door brought Tilly’s reflections to an end and her on to her feet. ‘Not expecting anyone.’ She frowned at Alice, pushing her chair back from the table.

A neighbour, who’d had rooms in a house across the street for almost as long as Alice could remember, barged in before Tilly had the door properly open. Obviously Beattie Evans was bursting with news she wanted to get off her chest.

‘Ain’t sure how to tell you this, Til,’ the woman wheezed out. It was always Beattie’s way to draw out a drama if she could.

‘Straight out’ll do,’ Tilly responded flatly, planting her hands on her hips.

‘First off, I just seen Lou Perkins. She’s back from Kent and ain’t pleased to know Jimmy’s arrived here before her. She reckoned she’d be the one breaking the news about him not being dead, ‘cos she ran in to him in Dartford market.’

‘That it?’ Tilly barked.

Beattie shook her head. ‘Jimmy and his woman are moving in up the road.’

Beattie had been expecting a fiery response to her news, but even so she jumped back in surprise at the force of it.

‘What?’ Tilly roared. ‘Where? What number?’ She was already rolling up her sleeves. ‘If he thinks he can rub our noses in this, he can bleedin’ think again.’

‘Mum! Don’t!’ Alice shot up from the table to position herself between her mother and the door, blocking her way.

‘He ain’t moving back to Campbell Road!’ Tilly thundered, swinging around to slam a fist on the table and send the cups crashing over. ‘Ain’t havin’ the bastard livin’ near me after what’s gone on. I’ll swing fer him, so help me Gawd. If he weren’t dead before, he soon will be.’

Robert Wild was of the same opinion as his aunt about Jimmy returning to his old stamping ground. Not that Robert lived in Campbell Road any more. For fifteen months he’d been renting a smart townhouse in Tufnell Park and kept his new Sunbeam Tourer parked on a side driveway that used to lead to stables. His ambition was to buy the freehold of the property. But for now he was content to use his profits to expand the businesses he already had, and to invest in more. Robert had a wily head on his shoulders and knew acting flash with his cash could jeopardise his plans for his future security. He was twenty-three and intended to retire a millionaire when he was thirty-five. His only real luxuries were his house, his car, and a few decent suits. He had justified those purchases with the logic that an appearance of modest affluence was necessary when negotiating with people who had more money and experience than he did. Young he may be, but he was careful never to present himself as a chancer, or a threat. He knew he was a match for any of them. He also knew it was too soon to let them become aware of the fact.

He had bought property, but none that he’d consider residing in himself. He was the landlord of a shop in Queensland Road and three tenements in Campbell Road. He also had a nicer house in Playford Road, where his brother and sister-in-law now lived rent-free on the ground floor. He’d picked them up as a job lot for refurbishment three years back. Solly, who’d owned the secondhand shop in Queensland Road, had wanted to quickly offload all his premises and retire to the coast before the cancer eating away at his insides finished its work.

Robert had been twenty at the time. He’d used every penny he’d scrimped and saved from working his market stalls for six years to do the deal behind the back of old Mr Keane, who liked to think he was the wheeler-dealer landlord in Campbell Bunk. The sulky old git hadn’t spoken to him since even though Robert had been at pains not to rub his nose in it because you never knew who you might need on side.

The deal had been struck with Solly because the old Jew liked him, and remembered a promise he’d made years before. When Rob had been at school he’d often run errands for Solly, and he’d done a bit of lifting and carrying the old boy couldn’t manage to do himself. Solly had never paid him; at the time he was a regular tight-fist, but he’d always told Rob he’d see him all right one day. And he’d been true to his word. Rob knew Solly could have got a better price for his properties from old man Keane, but he’d let him have them for what he could afford to pay. It had been the turning point in his career; from that point on he’d been resented and courted in equal measure. In the estimation of most of the folk in these parts, Rob Wild had hit the big time when he took on Solly’s stock.

He had three men working for him, but Stevie was the only one of his employees he trusted to collect the rents from his tenants in Campbell Road. Today he had taken on the task himself as Stevie and a few of the boys were picking up a shipment of market stock.

He had just stopped to scrape the sole of his shoe on the kerb, having stepped in some slimy cabbage stalks in the hallway of one of his properties, when he looked up and saw Jimmy carrying sacks of possessions into a house a few doors down from the intersection with Paddington Street.

Robert’s lips whitened over his teeth as he spat out a curse. He sprinted across the road and, grabbing his father by the shoulder, viciously spun him against the iron railings. ‘No yer don’t.’ He thrust his face up close to Jimmy’s concave, unshaven cheek. ‘Wherever it was you’ve been hiding yerself all these years, you can piss off back there. I told you, you’re not wanted round here.’

With a strength that belied his grizzled appearance, Jimmy pulled out of his son’s grip. ‘You don’t own this house, Bobbie,’ Jimmy sneered. ‘I made sure of that.’ He didn’t look or sound so complaisant today. ‘Old man Keane’s still got this one, so you can’t put me out. I’ll live where I want. And I want right here.’ He smiled slyly. ‘Be nice ’n’ close to yer aunt Til again. She’ll like that.’ A private joke caused him to smirk. He turned his head towards the junction with Seven Sisters Road where the Keivers had rooms. ‘Be nice ’n’ close to Stevie ’n’ all. Lives just around the corner in Playford Road now, don’t he?’ He started to gather up his belongings and move again towards the door-less portal, beyond which was darkness and a stink of decay.

Robert took hold of his father’s shirt collar and hauled him backwards. He pushed him stumbling into the gutter and threw the bags he’d dropped after him. A few old clothes spewed on to the pavement as one of the bags gaped open.

‘What’s goin’ on?’ Edie’s cry reached the two men as a faint wail. She had been proceeding down the road some way behind Jimmy. They’d turned the corner from Seven Sisters together but being relatively unencumbered, he had managed to pull away from her. With one hand Edie was pushing a pram filled to the brim with utensils; the other hand gripped the wrist of a small boy. The child was whimpering and dragging her back because his little legs couldn’t keep up with her faster pace. Behind them, and obviously part of the family, trailed an older boy who looked to be about ten years old and a young woman. Both were carrying boxes. Although the girl was some years older than her brother the resemblance between them was striking. Both had fair complexions and thick blonde hair and eyes of a deep blue.

Seeing Jimmy on his knees, scrabbling with his clothes, Edie started to jog, pulling the toddler with her and making him cry. Despite her spindly limbs she put on a spurt that belied her frail appearance. The creases in her complexion deepened with her determination to find out what was going on. As the toddler stumbled to his knees she let go of his hand and rushed on, the pram bouncing in front of her, and one of her hands batting back pots trembling precariously close to the sides. The young woman immediately dropped her box and went to tend to the whimpering infant. The older boy shuffled close by, obviously preferring to wait for his big sister to accompany him into unknown territory.

If Robert had not been so het up at the sight of his father on Campbell Road he might sooner have spotted Edie and the children trailing in her wake. Having digested the scene he turned back. ‘If you’ve knocked that lot out,’ he snarled at his father, ‘you must’ve started with that old bag before Mum was dead.’ His eyes were redrawn to the young woman who was crouched by the sobbing child and dabbing at his grazed knee with a handkerchief. Robert guessed she was in her late teens. ‘In fact, I’d say you must’ve been at it before we was hanging out the flags believing you was gone for good. Seems we were wrong about everything. We all thought Nellie Tucker was your tart.’

‘Can’t help being popular with the ladies, can I?’ Jimmy grunted a chuckle, still stuffing clothes back into the bag. He seemed unflustered by his son’s rough handling.

‘No lady would have anything to do with you. No wonder we never had a decent meal inside us as kids. You’d have spent yer last fucking farthing keeping yer cock happy rather than us, wouldn’t you?’

Jimmy sprung up, surprisingly agile all of a sudden, his eyes narrow slits in his puffy, sallow face. ‘You want to learn a bit of respect. Who do you think you’re talking to? I’m still yer father and can give you a wallop, y’know.’

‘Don’t I just wish you’d try,’ Robert returned softly. ‘’Cos I’m itching for an excuse to lay you out … just like you did to all of us.’

Jimmy slanted a look up the road. His scrawny wife was still haring towards him behind the bouncing pram.

‘Edie’s,’ Jimmy said succinctly, ignoring the reference to the brutality he’d dealt out to his first family. ‘All of ’em stepkids.’ Noting the direction of his son’s steady gaze, he pursed his mouth before a shrewd smile skewed a corner of it. ‘Well, I never … something about me yer like after all, eh, son?’ he taunted. A glance slew to his stepdaughter.

Faye was petite, like her mother, but there all similarity ended. Edie was shrunken and shapeless, and her once-fair hair had turned to an unattractive salt-and-pepper hue. Faye’s body was curvaceous and her shiny golden hair framed an extraordinarily pretty face. Jimmy liked to think he was a bit of a connoisseur when it came to women. He also liked to think that he appreciated the value of female allure. He’d been Nellie Tucker’s pimp for some while, and they’d both profited from it. He reckoned touting the services of a cheap whore from a damp room justified his arrogance.

With his bags in his fists he pushed past Robert and entered the gloomy hallway of his new home, chuckling beneath his breath. His laughter increased when Robert made no move to stop him this time. But he wasn’t feeling as smug as he’d sounded. Lou Perkins had recognised him in Dartford market and told him his eldest boy was flush with money. Jimmy had come to see for himself and work out a way he might benefit from an upturn in the Wild fortunes. He’d known his reappearance would cause a rumpus at first, but had counted on persuading his sons they should be pleased to have one of their parents still alive. Jimmy reckoned he’d manage to bring Stevie round to that way of thinking, but Stevie wasn’t the one holding the purse strings. Bobbie had the cash, and he was extremely hostile.

Edie’s face was scarlet as she skidded to a halt by Robert. Her lips, customarily puckered as though she was sucking on an invisible cigarette, suddenly sprang apart and words came tumbling out of them. ‘So, it’s you. Thought it were the other one, ’cos Jimmy told me he comes down here collecting the rents. Thought you were Stephen. Just leave us be. We need somewhere to live, same as other folk. You don’t interfere with us, we don’t interfere with you.’ She turned and, having drawn in a lungful of air, yelled at the boy who was closest, ‘Get in there and lend a hand to your dad.’

Casting a wary sideways look up at Robert, she manoeuvred the pram past the obstacle of his body, bumped it over the threshold of the house and started to unload it on to bare boards.

The toddler, obviously over his mishap, came tearing down the road at such a pace that it looked as though his momentum would send him hurtling past his destination or falling on to his face. At the last moment he saved himself by clinging to Robert’s shins for support, offering up a shy smile before he scrambled on into the house. His older brother gave Robert a suspicious look before ducking his face behind his box and following on. Robert could hear their mother giving instructions to the boys on what to carry up the stairs. From those bawled commands Robert learned that one boy was named Michael and the other Adam. He wasn’t interested enough to peer in to discover which face went with which name. But he was interested in the girl coming towards him. And she knew it, and was battling not to look uneasy because of it.

Having tilted up her chin and waited for Robert to move out of the way, the young woman turned sideways with her box to try to edge past him, muttering beneath her breath. He moved to block her path. Flicking her head aside in irritation, she stepped the other way to avoid him, her expression bored.

‘Do you know who I am?’

‘’Course I know,’ she said impatiently, setting her box down. ‘You’re one of his sons, me mum told me. She saw you just after we turned the corner and said there’d be trouble.’ She glowered at him with large blue eyes. ‘Are you going to get out of the way so I can go inside?’

‘Yeah … in a minute …’

‘Me mum told me you wouldn’t let them have a drink at your wedding reception and a ruckus started because of it. Tight-fisted git, are you, as well as having no manners?’ With that she again picked up her box and glared at him to move.

‘Well, if you’d’ve come along to the Duke that night, perhaps I might’ve thought twice about getting a round in,’ Robert said. ‘Or perhaps you’re too young to have a drink?’

She blushed, but not because his subtle flattery pleased her, rather because he thought her a kid. ‘Why don’t you get off home to your wife so’s I can get in there and give a hand before your father turns nasty.’ She freed some fingers from beneath the box to give his arm a shove. Although her hand bounced off muscle, Robert relented and moved his fist from where it had enclosed a railing, effectively barring her entry.

‘What’s your name?’

‘Faye! Get in here now and help, will you.’ Edie’s screech emerged from the bowels of the house.

The young woman gave him a sour look and took a step forward, trying to shake off his grip, which had transferred from the railing to her wrist.

‘What’s your name?’ Robert asked again.

‘You deaf as well as all the rest?’ she cried out, yanking her arm free with such force that she dropped her box in the process. Cutlery and china scattered on the floor drawing a gasp of dismay from her. The ground was littered with blue-and-white shards that looked to have been a full tea service a moment ago, and not a bad one at that.

‘All of your name … Faye …?’ Robert insisted, idly scraping the debris to one side of the doorway with his foot.

‘Greaves,’ she shouted in exasperation. ‘Faye Greaves! Look what you’ve done! Now what we gonna do? Can’t even have a cup of tea – that’ll set him off for sure.’

A note of real distress had entered her voice and Robert could guess why. His father now had an excuse to vent his anger on somebody. He wondered whether Edie Greaves would have the backbone to stand up to him and whack him back. Was she like his aunt or his mother? He’d seen Tilly knock Jimmy bandy for giving her sister a split lip. Rob reckoned Edie was more like his mother: she’d quake, but take the bruises so that her kids might escape the old man’s fists. Then there’d be other times when, too ground down to resist, she’d pretend not to hear the sound of a leather belt cutting through the air, or the whimpers that went on all night.

He picked up the box and gave it to her. Then in a single scoop he collected the undamaged cutlery and chucked it in. He drew out a five-pound note and let it fall in as well. ‘Should cover it,’ he said. With that he walked off before Faye had a chance to recover sufficiently from his astonishing generosity to comment on it.

‘Want a lift home?’

Alice had been walking with her head down, deep in thought, when she heard that tempting offer. ‘No, it’s all right, Rob,’ she declined with a smile. ‘It’s kind of you, but I bet you’re too busy to be running me about.’

‘Nah … I’ve got a bit of business Wood Green way in any case. Where’s Lilian?’

‘Josh’s mum’s looking after her.’ Alice knew that his question about her daughter’s whereabouts was just a way of avoiding talk of Jimmy. She wished she could cast the horrible spectre of her uncle out of their minds and out of this neighbourhood. ‘I wish Jimmy hadn’t turned up out of the blue like that,’ Alice blurted. ‘After all this time, it gave us such a turn.’

She watched for her cousin’s reaction. Jimmy’s disappearance had always been a taboo subject. Bobbie and Stevie must have realised a vicious argument had taken place between their parents just before Jimmy vanished. Their mother had been in a terrible state the morning after the fight, as had their Aunt Tilly. But the boys had grown used to seeing Fran Wild laid up after a beating from her husband. And if they’d suspected Tilly had come by her injuries in an unsuccessful attempt to protect her sister, they’d kept it to themselves. By that time, their parents had been separated for some years, following Jimmy walking out to shack up with Nellie Tucker. But it had been his habit to come back on odd visits … usually when he was on the scrounge.

With a little shudder, Alice recalled the surprise visit from the police that had unnerved them just as they were struggling to get back to normal after that dreadful night. A body had been found floating in the Thames that’d had a similar tattoo to the one Jimmy sported on his left arm. As Jimmy Wild hadn’t been seen in a while the police had put two and two together. Luckily, on the day of that shocking news, her cousins had been out so had not overheard talk of a headless corpse.

A couple of months later, when Robert realised his father’s absence had been lengthier than usual, Alice had been present when he questioned his mother over it. Her aunt’s mumbled response that Jimmy had probably gone to France to do his duty, and not before time, had seemed to satisfy the boys. For the first time in their young lives they’d probably believed they had a reason to feel proud of him.

But neither of her cousins had spoken much about him and not once had Alice heard them bemoan the loss of their father. However they’d been distraught to lose their mum eight years ago during the flu epidemic that had decimated the population. An abrupt question from Robert put an end to her melancholy reflection.

‘Did you know Jimmy’s moved in up the road?’ He took Alice’s elbow and steered her towards his car, which was parked close to the junction with Seven Sisters Road.

Alice nodded and let out a dejected sigh. ‘Old Beattie came in and gave us the news. Mum’s gone mad. I told her to ignore him. I bet she doesn’t. I bet she’ll be up the road after him as soon as she’s had a few …’ She tailed off. As soon as her mother hit the whiskey she’d get reckless and belligerent. Rob knew as well as she did what Tilly was like. Their two families had lived cheek by jowl for too long not to know each other’s habits. ‘Glad I’m not living round here now,’ Alice said vehemently. ‘Bet you are, too …’

‘Yeah … But not because of him. He’s not going to affect my life ever again. I won’t let him.’ Rob opened the car door and helped Alice in, then tossed a coin to the young lad who’d been charged with keeping an eye on the vehicle while he went about his business. Despite Rob’s reputation as a hound you didn’t mess with, some of the local lads were sufficiently desperate to risk the consequences and try to steal the hubcaps or anything else they could prise free and sell.

‘Ta, mister.’ The boy beamed at the thrupence on his palm and hared off.

Robert put the car in gear and headed up the road. As they passed the house where Jimmy and his family had just moved in, he didn’t even turn his head. But a muscle contracted spasmodically in his cheek.

Alice glanced at her grim-faced cousin and wondered how to lighten the atmosphere. Getting a ride in a car was a treat for her, especially when she’d been expecting a long walk home. The last thing she wanted was to spoil a pleasant drive with more depressing talk about rotten Jimmy Wild. ‘So … what’s this I hear about you getting engaged to Vicky Watson?’ she teased him. Alice had already guessed it was more gossip than truth. Vicky had probably started the rumour in hope rather than expectation of it becoming fact.

Robert smiled. ‘First I’ve heard about it!’

Faye Greaves was standing close to the window when the open-top car and its laughing occupants sailed into view. She felt an illogical little pang tighten her insides as she watched the pretty dark-haired young woman enjoying her husband’s company. He obviously had a better side to him. She’d been on the point of moving away to avoid observing their contentment when her mother looked over her shoulder and also saw Robert and Alice drive past.

‘So, he’s off is he,’ Edie muttered, keeping her voice low so Jimmy didn’t hear. ‘I’ll have him next time he’s about. He owes us for a tea-set, and I’ll have the money off him for it, you wait and see. Tight-fisted git,’ she spat.

Faye chewed her lip, feeling guilty. She’d called him a tight-fisted git, too, and to his face, but she’d discovered that Stephen Wild was anything but mean with money. He’d handed over far more than was necessary to replace the broken china. But she wasn’t about to let on that she’d been compensated. If they’d had any inkling of it, her mother and Jimmy – especially Jimmy – would have had the cash off her.

She had said nothing to Jimmy about the loss of the crockery, and she knew her mother would keep quiet about it. Angry as she was about the damage, Edie didn’t want any more trouble with Jimmy’s sons; she was relieved just to have a roof over their heads after they’d absconded from Kent.

Their old place, a poky, spartanly furnished terraced house in Dartford, now seemed a palace compared to the two squalid rooms that had replaced it. Faye would have returned there in a flash if she could. Not that there was any possibility of that.

She thought back to the times their landlord, Mr Mackinley, had come battering on the door on rent-collection day. Rather than open the door to him, her mother would holler out of a bedroom window that Jimmy had sworn he’d paid everything up to date. Mr Mackinley would bawl back up at her in his guttural Scottish accent, telling her that she was a stupid woman who should know by now that she was saddled with a donkey. Through it all, Faye would sit on the bed, listening dejectedly to their raucous shouting and muttering her agreement with the landlord’s opinion.

Faye had known for some time that, with Mackinley threatening to send in the bailiffs, a flit was imminent, but it had never occurred to her that they’d be dragged as far away as North London. Then one evening Jimmy had come home from the market empty-handed but with a sly smile that’d prompted Edie to demand why he was looking so pleased with himself when there was no food for their supper. Faye now knew that had been one of the rare occasions he’d given her mother a truthful answer. He’d run into someone from the old days, and they’d given him some right good news about how well one of his sons was doing.

Faye’s eyes slipped sideways. Jimmy probably wasn’t feeling quite so chipper now the reunion had taken place and his sons had made it clear they wanted nothing to do with him. She turned to focus properly on Jimmy, who was frowning at the newspaper pinned beneath his elbows, tapping his teeth with a pencil. He’d been sitting like that for some time, leaving Faye and her mother to bring some sort of order to their seedy home. Faye turned away from the front-room window and swept the room with her gaze, taking in the stained and sagging flock mattress that covered the bed, which had been pushed against the wall to make room for the rest of the furniture, all of it shabby and clearly on its last legs. In the back room, where she would sleep with Michael and Adam, there was a tiny iron bed for her and a large flock mattress on the floor for the boys. All the bedding was in a similar sorry state with springs and wadding exposed in places.

Faye’s eyes returned to Jimmy, who was squinting fixedly at the racing pages, sucking on his pencil. Luckily it seemed he hadn’t been eavesdropping on her conversation with Edie. A five-pound note was rare treasure and she wasn’t going to let anyone deprive her of it. She could get a decent secondhand tea service for a few shillings, perhaps some dinner plates as well to sweeten her mother and make her forget about bringing up the subject with Jimmy’s son when next their paths crossed. Faye would tell Edie she’d treat her to the new set from her wages. Fortunately she’d already found a job.

Earlier that day, as they’d made their way along Blackstock Road towards The Bunk, she’d seen an advert for an assistant being placed in the window of a baker’s shop. The fellow had noticed her looking at it and had smiled and jerked his head, inviting her in. She’d smiled right back, knowing even before she pushed open the door that the job was hers if she wanted it. She’d told Michael to wait outside with their boxes and a few minutes later she’d emerged with a position that paid fourteen shillings a week. It wasn’t much, considering the long hours. She’d wanted more, but having seen her family go by carrying boxes of possessions the old miser had put two and two together and come up with somebody desperately in need of a job. So on Friday she’d buy the crockery for her mother and put the fiver in a hiding place.

She wasn’t being greedy or selfish, Faye told herself; she just wanted to start a little nest egg that someday soon would take her and Adam – Michael, too, if he wanted to come – a million miles away from her rotten stepfather … and her pathetically weak mother.

THREE

‘Wait a moment, for Heaven’s sake,’ Faye hissed as her mother attempted to delve into her bag before she was completely out of the shop. ‘At least let’s get up the road in case he sees and gets suspicious.’ She slung a glance over her shoulder at the bakery whilst walking swiftly away from it. But her boss, Mr Travis, was busy pulling down the shop blinds in the window furthest away from them.

‘Didn’t you get a pie?’ Edie moaned, peering in and poking at the contents of her daughter’s canvas bag. ‘You know your dad’ll be expecting a meat pie.’

‘They were all sold by this afternoon.’

‘Couldn’t you’ve put one by early on?’ Edie huffed.

‘No, I couldn’t,’ Faye snapped in exasperation. ‘Getting loaves or buns out is bad enough. Are you trying to lose me me job when I’ve only had it a short while?’

‘That’s nothing fer his dinner then …’cept a bit of bread and dripping,’ Edie whined as she again poked about in the bag that held two small white loaves.

‘Well, bread and dripping it is then, for him same as the rest of us for a change,’ Faye responded tersely. ‘And it’s the last time I’m pinching anything at all. Old Mr Travis ain’t stupid. I’ll get the sack and no reference either. Might even end up in court. Then what we going to do? It’s only us two earning; what’s he doing, apart from sitting on his backside reading the paper, or leaning on the railing outside, watching the world go by? Let him buy his own bloody meat pie!’

‘You watch yer tongue,’ Edie hissed, thrusting a finger under her daughter’s nose. ‘Your dad’s looking fer work. Ain’t much about for men his age. And you know he’s got bad knees.’

‘Doesn’t afflict him when he’s charging up to the pub at opening time, does it?’ Faye snapped. ‘And I suppose there wasn’t much about a year ’n’ a half ago when you took up with him, was there?’ Faye pointed out fiercely. ‘In fact, what’s he ever done except live off us?’

Edie turned red and gawped at her daughter. She knew that Faye didn’t like Jimmy and never had, but until now she’d kept her tongue in check, just letting slip the occasional hint that she considered Jimmy a lazy, bullying bugger. Considering the trouble she’d caused, you’d think the little madam would toe the line! If it hadn’t been for Faye, she might never have got involved with Jimmy Wild in the first place.

Edie was also coming to the conclusion that Jimmy was a wrong ‘un, but now that he had her pinned under his thumb, she despaired of ever ridding herself of him. The charmer with the soppy smile who’d won her over and gained her trust had long since disappeared. But not before he’d moved in with her and got his boots well and truly under her bed. Any hint from her that she’d had enough of him and he’d come back with threats to tell her kids a tale about the time he’d first met their ma, years ago, when he was working in that hospital in Kent … And Edie couldn’t bear to let them suffer hearing those ghastly details.

Besides, Edie had learned some painful lessons about the consequences of telling Jimmy Wild to sling his hook. Best not to rile him, he always said, stroking the place he’d struck. Edie had to agree, especially on that occasion when his eyes had travelled until they landed on little Adam, grizzling on the floor. He didn’t like whining kids, he’d told her, and she’d scooped the boy up and got him quickly out of sight. So far she was sure he saved his temper for her. But Faye was starting to rock the boat and that made Edie fearful. ‘What’s brought this on with you?’ Edie cried, angry now. ‘You’ve always got to be contrary, ain’t you, and cause trouble. And you got no right to, considering what I’ve had to put up with from you, miss!’

Faye looked at her mother, startled by her ferocity. ‘If you’re that bothered, I’ll buy a bloody meat pie and fetch it in with me later.’

‘Bakers’ll all be sold out by now,’ Edie grumbled.

‘Corner shop might have one.’

‘He’ll want a nice fresh one … out o’ Travis’s. Anyhow, why lay out good money on what you should’ve got fer nuthin’?’

‘I’m going for a walk; I’ll be back later,’ Faye muttered, exasperated, and started to move away. Her mother darted after her, tugging on her arm. ‘You’d best come home and explain to yer dad. He’s expecting something more’n bread for his tea.’

‘I wish I’d never brought a damned pie home last week,’ Faye shouted, swinging about. ‘And don’t keep calling him me dad! He’s not! He’s just Jimmy.’ Suddenly desperate to escape her mother, she made to dart across the road, straight into the path of an oncoming car. The driver was forced to slam on the brakes and swerve sharply to avoid knocking her over. She gasped and clutched double-handed at the shiny coachwork to steady herself, eyes closed tight and wincing at the driver’s angry holler. It was a moment before she opened her eyes and recognised the fellow who was in the process of leaping out of the vehicle, his expression thunderous.

Edie had seen Robert Wild too and she was just in the mood to bring something to his attention. It had been eating away at her for a good while, but she’d not seen him to air her grievance since the day they’d moved into Campbell Road.

‘So it’s you,’ she started, seeming oblivious to the fact that her daughter had narrowly avoided being hurt. ‘You smashed my crockery and I don’t doubt you did it on purpose. The mood you was in that day when you found out we was moving in, you’d have destroyed everything we had, wouldn’t you, you spiteful sod.’

‘Are you all right?’ Rob asked Faye, ignoring Edie’s rant. ‘You nearly got yourself killed, rushing into the road like that, you stupid little fool.’

Faye nodded mutely, accepting the blame, but stayed where she was, leaning against the car and trying to steady her erratic breathing. She’d gone ashen, but more from the shock of what her mother was saying than from having narrowly escaped physical injury.

‘I’m fine,’ she finally gasped out. ‘Sorry …’ She caught at her mother’s arm to try to pull her away.

Edie was having none of it. Freeing her elbow from her daughter’s grip, she confronted Rob with her hands on her bony hips. ‘I ain’t told Jimmy ’cos I don’t want no trouble. But if yer father finds out you’ve smashed me best china he’ll be after you. He ain’t scared of you ’cos you done all right fer yerself …’

‘You’ve got your china. I bought some for you,’ Faye muttered and again jerked on her mother’s arm to drag her away.

‘And it was good of you to lay out yer own money for it, love,’ Edie said with a significant nod. ‘But that’s just tat; what he broke on purpose were your gran’s bone china wot she had when she got married to yer granddad, God rest ’em. I remember she told me it came out of Bourne & Hollingsworth,’ Edie lied. ‘I remember she said it were worth quite a lot, that set.’

‘How much was it worth?’ Robert asked drily, his shrewd eyes focused on Faye’s evasive gaze.

A wave of heat rose up from her throat and Faye knew she was blushing guiltily. She flicked back her blonde head and boldly stared at him, chin up, inviting him to do his worst and expose her as a cheat and a liar.

‘Wouldn’t get no change out of a guinea,’ Edie stated shamelessly. In fact the set had been one of her own wedding gifts when she’d married Faye’s father. When her sister-in-law gave it to them she’d complained to her new husband that it was nothing more than Petticoat Lane crap, and secondhand crap at that, with a chipped cup and tea-stains. It was worth no more than a bob or two, even back then.

‘A guinea, eh?’ Rob mockingly considered it. ‘As much as that? I’d’ve said ten bob, if you’re lucky. He looked at Faye. ‘What d’you reckon it was worth?’

‘How should I know?’ Faye shrilled. ‘It was just a bloody tea-set.’ She caught her mother glaring at her. ‘Five pounds,’ she said suddenly with deliberate defiance. ‘That’s what I reckon it was worth.’

Edie choked. ‘Don’t be daft, Faye,’ she burbled. ‘A guinea’ll set us straight.’ Her greedy eyes, then her fingers, darted immediately to the coins Rob had dug from a pocket and exposed on a palm. As though she feared he might grab them back, she set off at a trot along the road. ‘Goin’ to the shop …’ was sent back over her shoulder. The next minute she’d disappeared from view in the direction of the off licence. If she couldn’t get a meat pie, a few brown ales would soon cheer the miserable bugger up.

‘Why didn’t you tell her?’

‘Why didn’t you?’

‘Why d’you give her more? You got money to throw about?’

‘Seems I have …’ he said, self-mockery tugging at a corner of his mouth.

‘You think I’m a greedy cow, just out for meself,’ Faye stated, her fierce gaze clashing on his watching eyes. ‘Well, I’m not. I haven’t spent a penny of that fiver. I bought her the tea-set out of me wages to replace the one you broke.’

‘Going to give me it back, were you?’ he taunted.

‘No … Yes … I’ll give it you back,’ Faye choked. ‘If I had it with me, you could take it now and good riddance. I never asked you for it.’

‘I never said you did.’

Faye knew her cheeks were scarlet and she hated him knowing of her embarrassment. Despite her insolence she felt mean and greedy, and that made her insides squirm. What did she care what he thought of her? But then, it was because she had an inkling of what he thought of her that her stomach was churning.

Since she’d turned fourteen, and filled out, men looked at her all the time. People told her she was pretty. She knew she’d only got the job in the baker’s because Mr Travis had taken a fancy to her. There hadn’t been a day had gone by since she’d started her job when he’d not found an opportunity to squeeze past her at the counter and rub his groin against her hip. Or his hands would sit a little too long on her waist while he pretended to shift her out of the way so he could use the till drawer. She could guess why Jimmy’s son was so generous to her. If the lecher had made her brother, Michael, drop his box of china he’d probably have given him a tube of glue.

He had a fancy for her. And him just married too! But then old Mr Travis was married with four kids. His wife often brought them all into the shop and Faye was always pleased to see them. The randy old sod usually let her off early on those occasions his family turned up.

Briefly she met his eyes and knew he’d read her thoughts. He didn’t seem put out that she had him down as a womaniser; in fact, it looked as if he was about to smile. She started off quickly after her mother. His next words stopped her in her tracks.

‘You saving up to get away from them and get a place of your own?’

Momentarily she hesitated, but why deny it? If anyone knew what hell it was being around Jimmy, he probably did. She nodded and took a glance at him. ‘Yeah … I can’t stand it any more,’ she said quietly. ‘But you’ll still get your money back. I was going to give it to you anyhow.’

‘’Course …’ he murmured in a tone of voice that let her know he reckoned she was lying.

‘No need to be so bloody sarky,’ she shouted and angrily lunged towards him as though she might lash out. She froze as the bakery door opened and Mr Travis came out.

‘Hello, Robert,’ her boss blurted in surprise before swallowing audibly. ‘I’ve not seen you in a while.’ Mr Travis jangled the keys in his hand and blinked over his shoulder at them. ‘But I … er … I’ve been expecting to see you, of course,’ he said in a quiet, nervous tone that was so unusual Faye stared at him. The Mr Travis she knew was an arrogant, confident individual. She’d heard him snap at customers who asked for credit. He didn’t give way even when they were just a penny short of what they needed and promised to pop it in tomorrow. They had to suffer the shame of having bread or cakes unwrapped and returned to the rack. Now he’d come over all meek and mild, fiddling with the key in his hand and looking from one to the other of them. ‘Do you want to come in or … will you come back tomorrow?’ He cleared his throat.

‘I’m not here to see you,’ Robert told him.

‘Oh … I see …’ The relief in Mr Travis’s voice was accentuated by his gasping chortle. He gave Faye a long look. ‘I’ll see you in the morning, Faye,’ he said before striding away.

‘You working in the baker’s?’

Faye nodded. ‘He thinks you’re your brother – he called you Robert.’

‘It’s you thinks I’m my brother. Do you want a lift home?’ He was already by his car and his half-smile told her he anticipated a rebuff even before he’d raised his eyes to see her shake her head. ‘Suit yourself.’ A moment later the car was on its way up the street.

‘Any work going hereabouts, Til?’

Tilly halted in her march to the shop and swung about to find Jimmy lounging against a railing. She suspected he’d been loitering out of sight, waiting for her to pass by before emerging from the hallway of the house where he lived. It was a hot August afternoon and he was wearing a vest belted into his trousers. She remembered he’d liked to display his biceps when younger; now the muscles looked withered and the skin covering them crêpey. The sight of the cobra twisting on his left arm caused a stabbing tension in her guts. The faded tattoo aroused memories she’d believed she’d buried long ago with her sister.

‘Why? What’s it to you?’ Matilda scoffed. ‘You going to change the habit of a lifetime and get off yer arse for an honest day’s pay?’ She strode on without a backward glance. Ten minutes later she came back down the street with her twist of tea and bottle of milk to find he was in the same place, waiting for her.

‘Don’t need to be honest work, luv.’ He resumed their conversation as though there’d been no break in it. ‘That’s why I’m asking you fer a tip-off. You always did know about ducking ’n’ diving, Til, I’ll give you that. Don’t want no crap wages, mind.’

‘Don’t know of nuthin’,’ Tilly barked and carried on walking, her teeth clamped so tightly in an effort to bite back on saying anything else that her jaw ached.

‘Was right sorry to hear about Jack,’ Jimmy called out. ‘One o’ life’s good ’uns was your Jack.’

Tilly flung herself around, her face boiling with rage. ‘Don’t you dare mention him,’ she blasted out. ‘You ain’t fit to even speak his name.’ With that she let fly with the bottle of milk.

Jimmy ducked and it whistled past to shatter against the wall of the house. He’d intended to rile her, but hadn’t expected such a violent reaction, and it stole the smirk from his face. With a shrug he turned and disappeared inside.

In the months that had passed since Jimmy had moved back into the street, though there had been many occasions when she was sorely tempted, Tilly had resisted the urge to set about her erstwhile brother-in-law. Her daughters had pleaded with her not to cause a rumpus, but it was someone else whose advice had persuaded her to leave well alone.

Reg Donovan was a pikey, a term she used to his face, as did others. A tinker by trade, Reg had lived for a number of years in Queensland Road with his parents and had gone more or less unnoticed by Matilda. But a chance encounter outside Beattie’s, when Reg was mending her neighbour’s pots, had brought them together. Tilly – with a broken pan and a nose for a discount – had sauntered over to slip hers in on Beattie’s deal and had got chatting to him. That had been many months ago and Tilly had known straight away that Reg had taken a liking to her. After that, he often found excuses to come into The Bunk and loiter about near her place. A couple of times she’d found herself looking out of the window for him. She was well aware that she was acting like a soppy schoolgirl with a crush, yet, for the first time in many years, she’d felt light-hearted.

After her beloved Jack had perished in the Great War, Tilly had been certain no other man would ever stir her interest or affection. But the passing of the years had rubbed the rough edges off her grief and something about Reg’s Irish charm appealed to her. Besides, Tilly was a realist and had scraped by in The Bunk on her own for long enough. It was sensible for two people to pull together rather than try to battle on against the odds solo. Lucy, her youngest child, had been the last to leave home. She’d gone to work in service with Sophy, her eldest, near Southend. Her daughters all had their own lives now. The eldest three were married. When Reg had popped the question to her a few weeks ago, she’d said yes straight away. As soon as they’d put by the cash to pay for the service – and a little knees-up at the Duke afterwards, of course – they’d do the deed. But neither of them were in any rush.

Tilly had ceased raging about what damages she’d like to inflict on Jimmy after recognising wisdom in her fiancé’s blunt advice on the matter: ‘If ye let on he can rile ye like that, then he’ll stick around for ever. He’s pulling strings ’n’ yer dancing for him, Tilly.’ So Tilly had been careful not to let Jimmy know that his presence in Campbell Road bothered her, although at times it almost killed her to hold her tongue when she sauntered past his doorway. Now she was kicking herself for having let him see that her indifference to him was just a sham.

Jimmy peeped round the brickwork and watched Matilda through narrowed vision until she’d disappeared. Then he turned his attention to his stepdaughter, who was on her way down the road towards him. His eyes immediately fell to the bag in Faye’s hand.

‘Brought yer dad a few nice bits for his tea?’ The question sounded casual enough, but there was an undertone of menace that demanded the right answer.

‘I’ve told you, I’m not filching stuff any more.’ Faye tried to pass, but Jimmy blocked her way.

‘Well, aren’t you Miss Prim ’n’ Proper,’ he sneered. ‘You’ll learn when you live round here that’s how we go on. Nobody gives yer nuthin’, so you take wot yer need.’

‘If you want to think so, think so. My dad taught me thieving’s wrong and …’

Jimmy pinched her chin in a playful grip that tightened painfully. ‘But yer dad ain’t here now, is he?’ he purred. ‘He’s pushin’ up daisies, thinkin’ himself lucky ’n’ all, and it’s fallen to me to do his job for him.’

Faye ripped her face free from his fingers. ‘Thinking himself lucky?’ she echoed, appalled by his callousness. ‘That’s a wicked thing to say about a man … a gentleman,’ she added damningly, ‘who perished on the Somme. Where were you hiding when it was all going on over there?’ she hissed. Faye knew that Jimmy hadn’t gone to fight. Somehow or other he’d managed to escape doing his duty, and that didn’t surprise her. In the time she’d known him, he’d never shown himself to be anything other than selfish and cowardly. Her beloved dad, and all the other honourable men who’d shipped out to fight the Hun, had paid the ultimate price for their bravery. The likes of Jimmy Wild would never rob her of her cherished memories of her heroic father, no matter what spiteful stuff he might come out with.

Jimmy stared at her for so long that Faye thought he was about to give her an answer, but suddenly his sly eyes veered away and he croaked one of his laughs. They were as false as everything else about him and Faye shook her head contemptuously and made to push past.

Jimmy gripped her elbow and yanked her back. ‘I’m looking out for you ’cos I’m yer stepdad, and don’t you forget it. So tomorrer make sure you fetch me in something …’

‘I’m looking out for myself,’ she interrupted him. ‘So I’m not losing me job thieving. As for the others … getting yourself work might help you look out for them.’ Faye realised he wasn’t listening any more but squinting over her shoulder. She turned her head and saw what had caught his eye. His son, Stephen, had emerged from a house close to the bottom of the road. Faye had seen him coming out of the property before. Usually he walked up and entered a couple of other places as well. She’d assumed he was collecting his brother’s rents.

The two brothers were similar in height and in their dark good looks. She could understand why, seeing him at a distance, her mother had mistaken Robert for his brother on the day they moved into The Bunk. Unfortunately for Faye, the embarrassment of confusing the two of them still had the power to make her blush. She’d thought Robert Wild a newly married man with a roving eye. Now she knew that the pretty dark-haired young woman who’d been sitting beside him in his car, and whom she’d taken for his wife, was one of Matilda Keiver’s daughters, and a cousin of his.

Since that day Faye had seen Alice go into Matilda’s house on several occasions; sometimes she had a little girl with her who looked about five years old. Faye supposed the fair-haired man who occasionally accompanied them was her husband. She’d not wanted to question Jimmy over his dead wife’s relatives, but she’d got snippets of information from her mother. Slowly Edie was coming to know the local families and their gossip. Her mother had warned her to avoid the Keivers because they were out to cause trouble. Faye reckoned that if anything the family were keen to avoid them. Anyway, she’d needed no such telling. She’d no desire to get to know anyone. As soon as she could, she’d be leaving.

FOUR

‘How you doing, son?’

Jimmy’s voice startled Faye from her reflection. Quickly she made to go inside, but Jimmy casually placed a hand on both railings, keeping her where she was.

‘Stay ’n’ say hello to him, you rude li’l cow,’ he breathed close to her face.

Jimmy had hailed Stephen on previous occasions but had been ignored. He hadn’t exchanged a word with his youngest son since the evening of the wedding reception, several months ago. ‘Business booming?’ Jimmy remarked in a jolly tone once he’d gained Stephen’s attention. He could guess why his son was staring and tightened his grip on the railings in case his stepdaughter tried again to get past him.

Stephen slowed down and stuck his hands in his pockets. Robert constantly warned him to ignore Jimmy if he tried to cosy up to him when he was in Campbell Road. Stephen hated his father yet, illogically, a worming curiosity was urging him to walk over and find out a few things. He longed to know what Jimmy had been doing, and where he’d been in the missing years.

Despite painful memories of the beatings his father had dealt out, Stevie had retained a spark of optimism that there might be some reason to be proud of the man who’d sired him. Back when he was a lot younger, he’d convinced himself that Jimmy Wild, like the unknown warrior and the men who’d lived in the neighbourhood, such as his uncle Jack Keiver and Geoff Lovat, had perished nobly on foreign soil for king and country. Later, when no official notification ever arrived about Jimmy Wild being missing, presumed dead, Stevie’s hopes had taken a different turn. His father might have returned, dreadfully wounded and suffering from amnesia. He had heard of fellows – seen them, too – who’d been shell-shocked, or had their minds destroyed by the terrible things they’d witnessed in the trenches. Then he’d wondered whether he might have been one of those unlucky civilians caught up in the London bombings, which had left many corpses too horribly mutilated for identification. Obstinately Stephen had clung to the fantasy that something other than callous self-interest might have prevented his father coming back home.

Now he inwardly mocked himself for having wallowed in such sentimental guff. Yet he remained where he was; the old man was standing with his stepdaughter, and she had a face that’d draw any bloke in for a closer look. A couple of times he’d seen her walking down the road, but she’d crossed over and ignored him. He’d learned from Robert that their father had taken on a stepfamily when he’d got involved with Edie Greaves. He knew one of Edie’s kids was a girl aged about eighteen, called Faye. An odd note in his brother’s voice when he’d mentioned her had alerted Stephen to the fact that Rob had an interest there. But he’d not questioned him over it. Robert could be aggravatingly uncommunicative when it came to personal matters, especially where women or money were concerned.

Curiosity was creeping over Faye too, so she ceased straining against the cruel grip Jimmy had placed on her arm. She’d only previously seen Stephen Wild at a distance. Now, as he slowly approached, she noticed that his hair was styled short, probably to tame its curls, and had a coarse appearance. Neither was the colour as dark brown as Robert’s sleek, straight mane. Stephen also looked to be a few inches shorter in height than his brother, although they shared a similar spare build. His eyes appeared lighter, too; more the colour of caramel than chocolate, and he had a slightly softer set to his lips. On the couple of occasions Faye had been with Robert she’d noticed the slant to his mouth that made him look constantly on the verge of being sarcastic. Possibly, when he’d been in his twenties, their father might have resembled his handsome sons. Now Jimmy was a bloated, grizzled wreck of a man; only a few dark threads in his lank grey hair hinted at his lost youth.

‘Still here then?’ Stephen greeted his father sourly as he approached and stopped close to the kerb. He cocked his head, looking them up and down.

‘’Course we’re still here. We ain’t goin’ nowhere,’ was Jimmy’s blunt reply. ‘Next time I leave The Bunk, it’ll be in a pine box.’

‘They all right with that?’ Stephen nodded at Faye as his eyes swept over her, a crooked smile on his lips. Now he was close to her, he could see it wasn’t only her face that was lovely; she had a sweet figure on her too. ‘Don’t know of any nice young lady who’d be grateful to be dragged here to live permanently.’

‘Faye’s a good gel; she’ll do as her dad tells her.’ Jimmy slung a possessive arm about her narrow shoulders.

Faye shrugged him off immediately in a way that taught Stephen a lot about their relationship, and her obedience.

‘Yeah … can see she’s devoted to her new dad,’ he scoffed, watching her slender back as she disappeared, unhindered by Jimmy, into the house.

‘Don’t matter about her,’ Jimmy said, lip curling. ‘It’s me boys – me own boys, that is – who I care about.’

Stephen hooted an acid laugh. ‘Yeah, we noticed how much you cared about us when we was growin’ up.’ He started on his way, but halted on hearing his father’s next comment.

‘Always thought it’d be you, y’know, who’d make summat of himself.’ Jimmy smiled, having regained Stephen’s attention. ‘You was always the brightest of the two of yers.’

‘How d’you work that out? Weren’t me wot done any good at school; Rob did.’

‘Don’t need no schoolin’ to be shrewd.’ Jimmy nodded at him. ‘You was the one learned the right lessons.’

‘Wot … like not to wet the bed ’cos I’d get the belt?’ Stephen took a step forward and put his lips close to his father’s unshaven cheek. ‘Yeah, I learned that lesson all right,’ emerged in a hiss.

‘And it were a lesson you needed to learn, son,’ Jimmy said in his weary, gentle way. ‘Did you want all the kids round here teasing the life outta yer ’n’ callin you names like “piss-pants”?’ Before Stephen could recover from the shock of hearing his father finally acknowledge his brutality, Jimmy continued, ‘You knew early on that you gotta be ambitious and make some money.’ A paternal hand patted his son’s shoulder. ‘When you was just a nipper, you was the one always wanted to earn himself coppers when the gambling school was up ’n’ running on a Sunday dinnertime; always acting dogger-out for us, wasn’t you. Your brother was too fond of sparring down the boys’ club with pals, or kicking a football about, as I remember.’

‘Yeah … ’n’ I soon learned he was wiser, ’cos doin’ little jobs for Solly fer nuthin’ paid off eventually in a fuckin’ big way. Anyhow, whatever I earned, you or Mum ’ud have it straight off me.’

Jimmy shrugged, all affable. ‘Don’t want to start no arguments with you, son, nor hear you speak bad about yer mum, God rest her. She did her best …’

‘I’ll never speak bad about her … only you!’ Stephen exploded. ‘Don’t you try to twist me words, you crafty bastard.’

‘Right … right … calm down,’ Jimmy crooned soothingly. ‘All I’m saying, Stevie, is I’m surprised you’re the sidekick and Bobbie’s in charge. That’s all I’m sayin’ …’

‘Yeah … well, tell someone else,’ Stephen spat and strode off. His hands were thrust casually in his pockets, but his face was flushed and his mouth compressed in a thin line.

Faye moved back from the doorway as she glimpsed Stephen crossing the road. She wouldn’t usually eavesdrop on other’s conversations, but she’d stopped, out of sight, just behind the doorjamb because she’d had an inkling her stepfather might try to stir up trouble. But the trouble he seemed to want to cause wasn’t the sort she’d anticipated. She’d thought he’d wind Stephen up and point him in the direction of the Keivers. She knew Jimmy was itching to start a war with Tilly Keiver; she’d seen the way he stared obsessively at the woman when she passed by, nose in the air, or occasionally two fingers in the air, when he tried to accost her and she couldn’t be bothered to tell him to piss off. But, instead, it seemed Jimmy’s intention was to drive a wedge between his sons. Silently, Faye hurried up the stairs in case he came in and saw her and guessed she’d been loitering and listening.

Jimmy stayed where he was and watched, slit-eyed against the afternoon sun, as Stephen went about his business. When his son disappeared into a hallway opposite he turned and shuffled back inside, looking smug.

The moment Faye entered the room, Adam immediately put out his arms to be picked up. She settled him against her hip then felt the dampness from his bottom seep into her skirt. She sighed and touched his posterior.

‘He wet?’ Edie demanded as she noticed her daughter’s actions.

Faye nodded.

‘Get him in the back room and clean him up ’fore yer dad finds out,’ Edie garbled. ‘Y’know he reckons it’s high time Adam was trained.’

‘He’s only two and a bit,’ Faye protested. ‘He’s bound to have an accident now ’n’ again.’

‘You ’n’ Michael was dry by then,’ Edie said querulously, shooting an anxious look at the door as she saw the handle turning.

Faye did as she’d been told and immediately took the boy to change him. The exchange she’d just overheard between Stephen and his father had confirmed her worst suspicions about Jimmy Wild. He was a brutal man, and if he felt disgruntled enough he wouldn’t hold back on disciplining Adam for wetting himself any more than he had with his own flesh and blood. She touched the soft cheek of the child lying on the bed then bent to plant a kiss where her fingers had stroked. Adam had been only six months old when Jimmy Wild walked into their lives. Faye felt bitterly upset that the little boy might soon, with her mother’s blessing, start to call the vile man daddy.

That awful thought made her determined to get away for an hour or so, and take Adam with her. Though it was late afternoon, it was warm and would stay light for some hours yet. Carefully she withdrew the rolled-up five-pound note from its hiding place. She’d secreted it in the channel of fabric where string was threaded to hold up a rag that served as a curtain at the window. Having loosened her clothes, and slipped the money into her cleavage, she dried off Adam then went back into the other room, leading him by the hand.

‘Going off out for a while. I’ll take Adam with me for a bit of air.’

‘Where you off to?’ her mother demanded.

‘Just out,’ Faye said in exasperation. ‘Can’t stay cooped up in this dump all the time.’

‘You only just finished work,’ Edie pointed out.

‘So?’ Faye made an impatient gesture. ‘If you must know, I said I’d meet Marge and we’d take a stroll just for something to do,’ she lied. Marge, the young widow who helped out at the bakery on Wednesdays and Saturdays, was about ten years older than she was, and had lost her husband in the Great War, but they’d struck up a bit of a friendship. After all, they had something in common in that they’d both had enough of Mr Travis’s sweaty hands on them.

Adam started to grizzle and immediately drew Jimmy’s surly attention. ‘Gawd’s sake, let her take him off out. The kid never stops whining.’

Once down the stairs Faye set Adam on the ground and his mood seemed improved by the sunshine. She glanced down at the house where Matilda Keiver lived and drew in a deep breath, plucking up the courage to go and find her.

She’d moved no more than a yard or two when she realised she might not need to approach Matilda to get the information she needed. Her daughter, Alice, was just coming out of her house and was starting up the road towards her, leading a little girl by the hand.

Faye took a quick look up at her window. She didn’t want her mother or Jimmy seeing her talking to any of the Keivers; she’d be interrogated for days over what had been said. She set off briskly round the corner into Paddington Street and loitered there, feeling nervous. As Alice drew level she made her way towards her.

‘Sorry to bother you, I’m just wondering if you could tell me where your cousin Robert lives.’

Alice looked at Faye and then at the blond child who was sucking his thumb. A moment later her daughter Lilian took one of his hands and began to swing it, making him laugh.

‘Why do you want him?’ Alice replied, trying not to sound suspicious. She knew this pretty young woman was Jimmy’s stepdaughter, and she knew her uncle wasn’t above sending somebody else out to do his dirty work.

‘It’s nothing to do with Jimmy, or my mum,’ Faye said sharply, guessing what was running through her mind. ‘It’s just …’ She moistened her lips. She knew nothing about Alice, but instinctively, from the first moment she’d spotted her laughing in Robert’s car, she’d decided that she looked the sort of person you’d want as a friend. ‘Your cousin gave me a bit of money … a loan. I want to give it back.’

Alice could tell from her uneasiness that it had taken courage for Faye Greaves to stop her and ask how to find Robert. Her cousin was popular with the girls; all the family were aware of that. By anybody’s standards, Rob had done all right for himself, and ambitious women shamelessly chased him because of it.

Faye could tell Alice assumed she was after her wealthy cousin to wheedle for more not pay anything back. Swallowing the lump of indignation that closed her throat, she pulled the banknote out of her blouse and thrust it at Alice.

‘Give him this, will you.’

‘Give it to him yourself,’ Alice returned, but not unkindly. She smiled at the little boy who was skipping on and off the pavement with her daughter. ‘What’s his name?’

‘Adam.’

‘How old?’

‘Two ’n’ a bit.’ Another brusque answer.

‘Do you want me to write the address down?’

‘I can remember it, thanks,’ Faye said gruffly. Having achieved what she’d set out to do, she scooped Adam up, soothing him as he tried to wriggle free to continue his game with Lilian. Having mumbled a goodbye, Faye carried on down Paddington Street, Adam squirming in her arms.

It was a good walk to Tufnell Park. Faye didn’t yet know this North London territory well and twice had to stop and ask for directions after taking a wrong turning. Little Adam was flagging before they’d made halfway. But she urged him on, lifting him when necessary. Finally she was glad to see a street name high up on a wall that told her she’d arrived at her destination. She stared along the neat row of houses in wonderment. She had no doubt that she was in a good area. A similar neighbourhood to this existed in Dartford. It had been some distance from the decaying turning that she and her family had inhabited, just as this place was a safe distance from Campbell Road.

Her thoughts were interrupted by a smartly dressed couple who descended the steps of one of the villas and sedately sauntered by, arm in arm. Adam was whimpering again so Faye swung him once more into her arms and walked to the end of the street. She looked up at a large house set on its own. Her mouth felt arid and for two pins she’d have turned right around and gone back the way she’d come. Robert Wild lived in the best house in the road. She realised he wouldn’t believe, any more than had his cousin Alice, that she really wanted to return his money. Hadn’t she already learned from his sarcasm that he doubted she’d willingly give up her treasure? The driveway at the side of the house was empty. He was out in his car. She knew it was cowardly to be glad she’d missed him, nevertheless she was feeling relieved.

Adam had wriggled his hand free of hers and darted forward to chase a cat that had been languidly stretching against warm stone. It rose and stalked off towards a green iron gate, then slipped beneath, thwarting the toddler’s attempt to grab its tail and drag it back.

Faye scooped him up, but he stiffened in temper. Soon he was howling loud enough to make a curtain next door twitch, so she dropped him back on his feet and quickly sped up the steps with the intention of posting the five-pound note through the letterbox. He’d know where it had come from. She’d reached the top and her hand was reaching towards a brass letter plate when the sound of a car approaching made her turn. As the vehicle headed towards her, she met his eyes through the windscreen. There was no way she’d make it to the bottom step, let alone escape before he got out.

‘I’ve brought you this,’ Faye blurted, descending a step. She hurried down the rest, one hand outstretched. When he simply looked at her offering, she put it down on the warm bonnet of the car.

‘Decided to stay put with Jimmy, have you?’ he asked in that acerbic way he had. His eyes slew to the child as Adam clung to her legs and mewed.

‘He’s tired. It was a long walk.’

‘Have you given up your plan to get away from them?’

Faye vigorously shook her head in answer. ‘I shouldn’t have brought him. It wasn’t fair, expecting him to walk so far.’

‘You’ll need that then.’ Robert picked up the cash and held it out.

Adam snatched it, scrunching it in his little fist.

‘Smart kid,’ Robert observed with a soundless laugh. His eyes narrowed on her as he noticed she looked to be on the point of crying. ‘Are you going to come in for a minute?’

She shook her head, stroking Adam’s face to soothe his whimpering while simultaneously trying to prise open his fingers to rescue the money before it got torn.

‘Do you want a drink?’

‘No thanks.’

‘Tea? Coffee?’

‘Milk.’

They both looked at Adam.

‘Drink of milk,’ he piped up again, then turned shy and dropped his chin. ‘Please,’ he whispered and peeped up at Robert from beneath long baby lashes.

‘Well mannered, too,’ Rob said. ‘He didn’t get that from Jimmy.’

‘He got it from me,’ Faye stated tartly.

‘Yeah … I can believe that.’ He took her arm and steered her up the steps.

‘Do you live here alone?’

‘Mostly,’ he said, watching for her reaction as he stuck the key in the lock.

‘It’s a big house … a family house.’

‘Yeah … there’s plenty of room.’

Faye’s eyes slipped to his and then swerved away. She regretted her comment. He thought she was hinting there was enough room for her. ‘I’m going back to Kent to live,’ she blurted. ‘Soon as I can, I’m moving out of The Bunk, and going right far away from here.’

‘I grew up chanting that phrase.’ He ushered her into the hallway, taking her elbow to propel her forward when she seemed reluctant to move across the threshold.

‘It’s nice,’ Faye said, looking about. It was an absurd understatement, considering what she’d been used to. The hallway was spacious and uncluttered. The air smelled vaguely of lavender polish and, having registered the scent, her eyes darted to the gleaming mahogany furniture set back against the walls. ‘You’ve got a char?’

‘No. I keep it clean.’ He gave a slightly diffident smile. ‘Comes from growing up in a shithole, I expect … Sorry,’ he muttered, noting her frown at his language and look at the child.

‘Milk …’ Adam said, struggling to break free. The new environment seemed to keep him amused and he toddled from place to place before settling on his knees on the patterned rug that stretched the length of the passageway.

‘Are you going to sit down for a moment, or d’you intend to stand there making the place look untidy?’

Faye gave a tiny laugh. ‘Thanks very much.’ Her amusement faded. ‘Can’t stop long; it’s almost time Adam was in bed and it’s a bit of a trek.’

‘I’ll take you back,’ Rob said, lightly amused. ‘Did you think I’d let you walk?’

‘I didn’t think about it. Anyway, why would you want to go out when you’ve just this minute got home?’

‘Because I’ve got manners too, just don’t always remember to use them,’ he ruefully admitted as he walked off towards the back of the house. ‘I’ll get a cup of milk for him.’

‘His name’s Adam. You might as well remember that. He is your stepbrother, after all.’

‘And who d’you think you are? My sister?’ he sent over a shoulder.

He returned with a cup of milk and gave it to the boy, who gulped greedily at it. Faye quickly went to him, worried Adam might spill some on the beautiful rug. Surreptitiously she felt his bottom in case he’d wet himself. He had and she lifted him quickly on to his feet and took the cup from him. A dark ring remained where his bottom had been.

‘Thanks … we’ve got to go now.’ She looked about for somewhere to deposit the beaker and gingerly placed it on a glass-like wooden surface. Her eyes returned to the stain on the rug and she looked up to find Rob watching her. He knew and was waiting to see if she’d got manners and would own up. ‘Sorry … Adam’s had a little accident.’ She moistened her lips. ‘It’s not much. I shouldn’t have let him have a drink. It’s my fault.’

‘Don’t worry, it happens,’ he said. ‘D’you think of me as a brother?’

‘Have you got a cloth? I’ll just mop it up. It won’t stain if we’re quick,’ she said, turning about on the spot as though she’d willingly fetch a rag herself if he pointed her in the right direction.

‘Fuck the rug!’ Robert exploded beneath his breath. ‘Do you think of me as your brother?’

‘I think you ought to wash your mouth out with soap,’ she snapped, glaring at him. Taking Adam by the hand, she turned deliberately away from him.

‘That’s just the sort of thing a bloody sister would say.’

‘It’s just the sort of thing a bloody mother would say,’ Faye rounded on him. A moment later she’d turned her back on him again.

‘Well, you were obviously luckier in your mother than I was in mine,’ he said through his teeth. He wrenched open the front door. ‘Come on then … let’s go.’

FIVE

‘Would you stop in Seven Sisters Road?’

‘Yeah … I was going to anyway.’

‘Thanks,’ Faye mumbled.

It was almost dusk and she was glad of the cover of twilight. Sometimes, in the early evenings, Jimmy would hang about with a pal outside, chatting by the railings, or drinking beer. If he were brassic and feeling particularly in need of a friend, he’d share his bottle with a passer-by to get himself a conversation. Faye didn’t want her stepfather seeing her getting out of his son’s car. He’d want to know all the ins and outs, especially her reason for seeking Robert out. But the area looked unusually quiet, probably because a light drizzle had started. Just a few people, dressed lightly for summer, were hurrying into Campbell Road with their heads down as if to avoid getting wet. She watched the windscreen wipers arc across the glass before Robert turned off the engine and they sat for a moment in silence with the rain pattering on the car roof. It was a somnolent sound and Faye drew a breath, settled back, and sighed. She felt warm, strangely serene, cocooned against the dismal reality of what awaited outside. Soon a pulse in the atmosphere was spoiling her contentment and she remembered the hostility between them.

‘Thanks for the lift.’ Her fingers fumbled for the door handle and she shifted Adam on her lap. When they’d started out, the boy had been fractious and Robert had said, not unkindly considering the grim expression that had accompanied the statement, he would take a roundabout route to get him off to sleep. It had worked. The rocking motion of the car had soon had his little lids fluttering. She’d smiled inwardly as they’d sped along and almost felt inclined to ask how he knew that handy trick, but the memory of their cross words had made her keep her thoughts to herself.

‘Take it. I want you to have it.’

Faye turned her head to see him thrusting the five-pound note at her.

‘Go on, take it. My contribution to your escape fund.’ He folded the note and stuck it into the breast pocket of her jacket, withdrawing his fingers quickly. ‘I know what it’s like to want to scarper from this slum. If you need any more, ask.’

‘Thanks,’ Faye said hoarsely. She felt guilty now that she’d too readily snapped at him for swearing. She’d felt embarrassed over Adam soiling the carpet, and had forgotten to warn him that Jimmy was trying to stir things up for him with Stephen.

‘I didn’t just come to give you back your money,’ she admitted. ‘You did me a favour over the tea-set. Even though it was your fault it got broken, you could’ve made things awkward for me by telling Mum you’d paid for it straight away.’ She looked up, an odd mixture of gratitude and aggression in her eyes. ‘I know you protected me, even though I never asked you to. So I wanted to do you a favour back.’ She frowned, wondering if she’d been too sensitive over it all. Would he think a conversation between his father and brother was none of her business and she’d no right to stick her nose in? ‘Stephen was in the road earlier today. I overheard Jimmy and him talking,’ she blurted, then paused to gauge his reaction. She saw that his eyes had narrowed in interest.

‘Go on,’ he encouraged.

‘I think Jimmy’ll cause trouble for you two, if he can. I’ve not known him that long: about a year and a half he’s been with my mum. But God knows it’s been long enough and I know he’s a malicious bugger. From what he was saying, I reckon he intends to try and play you off one against the other.’

‘Yeah, he’ll do that, all right,’ Robert muttered grimly. ‘Thanks for letting me know.’

She gave a little nod of acknowledgement.

‘What did he say exactly?’ he asked, stopping her again as she reached to open the car door.

‘Oh, just that he’s surprised that Stevie isn’t the guvnor as he’s always been smarter than you.’

Robert smiled, a proper smile that made her breath catch in her throat as it transformed to a husky chuckle.

‘Don’t you mind that he’s going to try to put a spoke in things for you?’

‘Nah … not really,’ Rob said, his eyes focused on his hand as he flexed his fingers. ‘Done me a favour, in a way. A showdown’s been brewing a while; things’ve got worse since Steve got married.’ He abruptly got out of the car and a moment later he’d opened her door and was taking Adam from her so she could get out.

‘Mind you don’t get wet,’ she said as the boy’s damp rump settled on his dark suit sleeve.

He looked at her stained skirt and as their eyes met they simultaneously grimaced.

‘Thanks for the lift,’ Faye said quietly, taking Adam back.

‘Yeah … you told me.’

‘And for your contribution.’

‘Yeah … you said that too. My pleasure … no, really. Sooner you’re on your way back to Kent the better. Let me know if you need more.’

‘’Course I bloody need more,’ she choked, unaccountably miffed by his attitude. It was insultingly clear that he’d be glad to see the back of her. He might as well have told her right out to piss off. ‘Won’t get me far, will it? A fucking fiver?’

‘Well, you know where I live now. Come and see me.’ He strolled back round the vehicle. ‘All right for you to swear in front of the kid, is it?’ he muttered sarcastically as he got in and slammed the door.

Faye watched the car pull off along Seven Sisters Road, anger and indignation burning in her chest. She stuck up two fingers and hoped he’d see her defiant gesture in his rear-view mirror, for she was sure he’d use it to look back at her. Then she felt silly and ashamed for having done it. The rain became steadily stronger and started Adam to a grizzling wakefulness. Pulling her jacket over him to shield him a bit she put her head down and hurried towards home.

He stopped the car under the gas lamp so she’d see him. Drawing out his cigarettes, he lit one and leaned back against the leather seat. Ten minutes later, right on time, and just as he was fishing in the pack of Players again, Gloria finished her shift and came out of the side door of the Duke. She saw him waiting and with a delighted grin hurried over.

‘Why didn’t you come in and have a drink?’ she asked as she settled into the passenger seat.

‘Didn’t want one.’ He held out the pack of cigarettes and she slid one out then waited for him to light it for her. They sat smoking, Rob sending a grey haze drifting through the open window at his side, Gloria blowing upwards and scrutinising him as he glared into the deserted night.

‘That Vicky Watson been giving you a hard time?’

She got no response. Not even a flicker of an eyelid betrayed that he’d heard her sly probing. Taking a final drag, Gloria leaned across him and flicked her dog-end into the darkness. Her fingers trailed suggestively across his thighs as she moved back to snuggle into her seat.

‘We gonna sit here all night doing nuthin’, or are you gonna take me home with you so we can do something?’

‘Yeah … ready?’ he asked, as though just startled from a dream.

She leaned across and kissed him full on the lips; an immediate sexy one that entangled their tobacco-tangy tongues. Her fingers went to his shirt and she opened a few buttons and slipped her hands inside. Her flat palms smoothed on his chest before she lowered her head to his groin and undid buttons there too.

‘Chrissake, Rob!’ she gurgled a laugh. ‘You been carrying this around all day? You should’ve come to see me sooner. I went home on me dinner break; you could’ve come to.’ Her small hand curved halfway about solid buoyant muscle and she teased it with her fingers before her lips took over.

‘Drop you home?’ he said ten minutes later when she was buttoning him up again.

‘Home? I thought we was going to yours.’

Robert started the ignition. He wanted to tell her he no longer needed her to come to his, but he knew that if he did he’d be acting like his bastard of a father, who’d force his mother to the bed, order him and Stephen out of the house, then minutes later breeze out into the street to head off, whistling, towards the pub. So, despite the fact that he didn’t particularly want to spend another minute with Gloria, let alone the night, he asked politely, ‘D’you want to stop and get a bite to eat?’

She settled back into the car’s upholstery. ‘Yeah … be nice. Could murder a steak dinner. Tight-fisted git only let me take a few biscuits for me tea, ’n’ there was pies goin’ stale ’n’ all.’

Her reference to the legendary parsimony of the Duke’s landlord drew from him a skewed smile. ‘Right,’ he said as he let off the brake, ‘I’ll head up west.’

‘Well, I reckon your father’s got a point, and I’m glad he said what he did.’ Pam Wild got up gingerly from her armchair, a hand supporting the small of her back. Her pregnant belly got a massage from her other fingers. She was now six months gone and already huge. ‘I’ve been saying for a while you’d be as good as he is running the show if you was given half a chance. You don’t get out of this business what you should.’

‘Yeah, and I’ve told you it’s not this business … it’s his business.’ Stephen continued rolling tobacco then licked an edge of paper and stuck the smoke between his lips.

‘Still, he should’ve let you in as his partner ages ago.’

‘He would’ve done,’ Stephen mumbled past the obstacle in his lips. ‘But I’ve never had the money to put in, have I?’ A look passed between them. ‘Even when he’s given me the soddin’ money to put in, I’ve messed up.’

‘He could’ve lent you more.’

‘He ain’t that stupid,’ Stephen barked harshly and raked impatient fingers through his short, wiry hair. ‘You think he’s going to shell out again so you can run through the bleedin’ lot?’ His tone had become edgy.

‘Well, he could’ve give you another hundred, as a loan,’ she retorted sullenly. ‘Not as if he ain’t had it to give, is it? I reckon –’

‘Fuck’s sake, shut up, will you,’ Stephen snarled past the drooping cigarette and slung himself back in an armchair that faced the one Pam had just vacated. He twiddled half-heartedly at the knobs on the radiogram by his side, producing a whining medley of varying volume.

Pamela watched him from beneath her lashes, looking as though she might be on the point of adding something. She mouthed something obscene at his profile then shuffled to the table and started to pour tea from the pot. Once the cups were filled she waddled to the sideboard and got the biscuit box.

‘What’s to eat?’ Stephen snapped meaningfully as he stared at the oblong tin she was about to offer him. His eyes shifted to the open doorway that led into the small kitchenette. ‘Forgotten we’ve got a nice new cooker out there, have yer?’

She pulled a face. ‘I’m not hungry; feelin’ a bit sick, actually. If you’re that hungry can’t you go to the fish shop and get yourself something?’

‘I’ve been to the chippy every bleeding night this week, you lazy mare. You said you wanted a new cooker and I got a sub off Rob to buy you one. But you can’t be bothered to do a bit o’ grub for me when I get in from work, can you?’

‘I’m pregnant, in case you ain’t noticed,’ Pamela sniped back, swiping a hand over her bloated belly.

‘I’ve noticed, don’t you worry about that,’ Stephen sent back acidly as he jerked forward in the chair and started rolling down his sleeves. He whipped a resentful glance at her fat figure as he snatched up his jacket from the chair back then headed for the door with his wife’s indignant stare following him.

When he got back with newspaper wrapped around his hot fish supper, Pam had got the plates out. Stephen noticed there were two of them.

‘Not feeling so sick now?’ he jibed.

‘Oh, have it all yerself then,’ she said tremulously. ‘I was only trying to be a bit of company for you. I was only trying to give you a bit of advice over what your father said, ’n’ all. Can’t do nuthin’ right though, can I? And it ain’t fair, you takin’ it out on me ’cos your brother keeps you under his thumb. I’m going to bed.’

Stephen sighed and went and put his hands on her shoulders before she could storm off along the passageway towards the bedroom. ‘Can’t keep arguing all the time like this, Pam.’ He drew her back into the sitting room. ‘Kid’ll be with us soon.’ Inwardly he wished to God it wouldn’t be. His petite, chatty wife had in a matter of months transformed into a hefty whiner. But what riled him more than anything was the knowledge that, if he’d taken his brother’s advice and been sensible with that hundred pounds, investing it where Rob had told him to, he could have been a partner in the business, taking profits instead of a wage each week. It was all right her moaning now, but she’d wanted the day out with her family at the dog track, and she’d been the one wanted to show off in front of them all, betting big money on outsiders.

In addition to paying for their wedding, Rob had given him some cash as a wedding gift. He’d said he could invest it as he saw fit: to buy a stake in the company, or to start his own enterprise if he preferred to go it alone. Stephen wished he’d never told Pam about it. When he’d hared home with the wad, she’d still been revelling in big-day excitement. They’d only recently returned from their Brighton honeymoon – a week’s holiday reluctantly paid for by his father-in-law, who had become aware that his failure to contribute to his daughter’s wedding was the subject of gossip. Pam had counted the wedding cash out and announced she wanted a few more little honeymoon treats before they got back to normal. So they’d gone for a night at the dogs with a big party of family and friends, and come out of the stadium with not a lot more than their cab fare home.

That had been months ago now, but it was still causing arguments between them. In a way, Stephen wished his brother had never given him the money at all, for it had planted a seed of ambition in him that previously he’d failed to acknowledge, or nurture.

Robert had said nothing when he’d found out that Stephen had squandered his wedding present. He hadn’t needed to: the look he’d given him had been witheringly explicit.

‘I don’t want to be rowing with you all the time neither,’ Pam mumbled. ‘I know I look a fright. Sorry I can’t be more … y’know … attractive for you. I know you miss doing what we used to do …’

‘Yeah …’ Stephen sighed. He turned her fully towards him so he could insert a finger down her cleavage. ‘Got this advantage though …’ Before she’d got pregnant she’d been quite flat-chested; now she had a round heavy bosom and Stephen couldn’t get enough of it. He put down the fish supper and growled a laugh. He roughly yanked open buttons and lowered his head to her warm swollen flesh. While he was occupied, Pam shuffled sideways and, one-handed, began removing the newspaper wrapping so she could get stuck into the chips before they got cold.

‘You spoke to Jimmy last week.’

‘Who told you that?’

‘Don’t matter who told me. I thought we agreed to give him a wide berth because he’s trouble.’

‘He’s me father and if I want to speak to him, I will,’ Stephen retorted. ‘You pay me wages, you don’t rule me life. Got them keys?’

It was five o’clock on a misty October morning and they were standing in the hallway of Rob’s house. It had been arranged the previous week that Stephen would call by early and collect the keys to the warehouse next door to Rob’s office, just off the Holloway Road. The place was stacked floor to ceiling with market-stall stock and Stephen’s job today was to load stuff on to one of the vans and distribute it around London to be stashed away in smaller stores close to their various pitches.

Robert pulled several sets of keys out of his pockets and sorted through them before putting one on the table.

‘Perhaps one day I’ll get me own set, will I?’ Stephen suggested sarcastically.

‘Yeah … it’ll be the day you put your money where your mouth is,’ Robert said quietly. ‘Got anything else you want to say to me before you get off?’

Stephen shuffled uneasily before meeting his brother’s dark stare. He could tell from that steady challenge that Rob had been told, or had guessed, what Jimmy and him had been talking about. He wouldn’t put it past his father to have told Robert himself. Jimmy was itching to start trouble. He was also angling to get involved in the business and grab a share of the money. Stephen knew his father wasn’t above getting him the sack so he could take his job if he thought Rob would wear it. Fortunately for Stephen, he knew Robert hated their father so much he wouldn’t even slow down to piss on him if he was on fire.

‘Yeah, I’ve got somethin’ to say,’ he suddenly blurted out. ‘I want a rise. We got a baby due soon and I got things to buy. Pam’s seen a pram she wants in Gamages …’

‘And you’re expecting me to pay for it? You got her pregnant.’

‘I know I fucking got her pregnant!’ Stephen snarled.

Previously, Robert hadn’t been certain that his brother regretted getting himself tied down, he’d simply sensed it from his moodiness. Now he knew for sure, but curbed his urge to tell Stephen that it was his own stupid fault he’d got stuck with a woman who was greedy and selfish and would be a burden for life. He simply shook his head, dropping it back so he could scowl at the ceiling.

‘You know you’re already earning good money, don’t you? You’re getting more than any of the others.’

‘Fuck me, is that a hardship for you?’ Stephen shouted. ‘I’m family, ain’t I? Don’t I deserve a bit of special treatment?’

‘Yeah, and I deserve a bit of loyalty and extra effort. But you’re no better at doing your job than Dave and Gil, are you? In fact, if anyone’s going to slope off early, it’s generally you.’

Stephen coloured. Pam had told him to have it out with Rob about getting a rise and a stake in the company, but now he wished he’d kept his mouth shut. ‘So what are you saying?’

‘I’m saying that, if you weren’t my brother, you’d be out on your ear. That’s what I’m saying. I’m also saying that if you’d put that money I give you to good use, you’d have made yourself a nice amount and could have been a junior partner. Then you’d have your own set of keys to the warehouse. Those radios and cameras made a good profit. Four hundred and fifty quid, and it was yours for the taking.’ Rob came closer to him. ‘But what I’m really saying is I wish you’d used the cash to piss off and set up on your own, ’cos I’m sick of you whining and sulking every fucking day. Ain’t my fault you got forced into a marriage you don’t want.’

‘Well, give us the money again. A loan this time. I’ll pay you back – and interest too,’ Stephen hissed. ‘Just give us another fuckin’ chance and I’ll be off quick as yer like.’

The brothers locked eyes, then Robert said, ‘Right. Come back this evening and you can have a hundred as a loan, and your cards.’

Stephen swallowed and licked his lips, then he swiped the keys from the table and marched out.

SIX

‘You’re a sight for sore eyes, gel.’

Nellie Tucker swung round and looked the fellow up and down. He was standing in the gutter and Nellie thought that was where he deserved to be. She couldn’t blame all her rotten luck on him, but neither had he ever been good for her. If she hadn’t already heard on the grapevine that Jimmy Wild was back, she’d have struggled to recognise him, despite the fact they’d lived together on and off for over three years. Her eyes lingered on his craggy, caved-in cheek.

‘You look a bit worse fer wear,’ she remarked spitefully before walking on.

Jimmy’s mouth narrowed as she blatantly cold-shouldered him. Though he hadn’t seen her in over a decade, he’d been confident of soft-soaping Nellie just like he’d always done in the past. He needed to get some information from the cow, so couldn’t let her slip away just yet. It had taken him several months to find her; she kept moving around London and was liable to turn up anywhere she could hook up with a ponce who’d put a roof over her head. By lucky chance he’d spotted her emerging from a tobacconist’s in her old stamping ground near Finsbury Park.

He slouched behind her, hands in his pockets and a roll-up dangling from his mouth. A jaundiced eye assessed her plump rump and thick waist. She was dressed in cheap clothes and shoes that accentuated the fact she’d lost her shapely legs and her figure. Once she’d been a stunning blonde who’d pulled in a good few bob per punter, keeping them both in good times. Now she looked to be a brassy old bag who’d be lucky to get a couple of clients at chucking-out time.

‘Piss off, Jimmy. Ain’t got nuthin’ to say to you no more,’ she threw over her shoulder, aware he was following her. She lit a cigarette from the pack she’d just bought and sent the smoke from her first drag back at him too.

‘Just thought you’d like to have a drink with me fer old time’s sake,’ Jimmy suggested softly. ‘We was good together, you ’n’ me. Thought about you a lot, y’know, gel, while we been apart.’

Nellie swung about and cocked her head so coarse blonde curls dangled over a stout shoulder. She had known handsome, strong fellows who had gone to war and come back looking as though they’d aged twenty years. Jimmy Wild had been handsome – his dark good looks had been what attracted her to him. He’d been strong too – there had been many occasions when she’d experienced first-hand the power behind one of his punches. Now he looked spindly of limb and bloated of belly, and she wouldn’t have bet on him being able to battle his way out of a paper bag. As far as she knew, his physical disintegration had nothing to do with fighting for king and country. But she was curious to find out where he’d gone after his sudden disappearance and what he’d got up to. After all, she’d been threatened with a prison sentence for aiding and abetting in his murder. ‘Gonna take me fer a drink, are you?’ she jeered. ‘Who’s paying? Me?’ She started to cross the road, but at a leisurely pace that lured him to follow.

‘You think I got no money?’ Jimmy asked softly, walking by her side now. ‘You don’t know about my eldest boy then.’ With deliberate nonchalance he pulled from his pocket a couple of bank notes he’d been putting by for the rent. He was a month in arrears, and old man Keane was already cutting up rough about it. Edie had refused to lay out any more for rent from her wages as a char. Faye was more inclined to buy her brothers stuff than bother keeping a roof over their heads. Last week the selfish little cow had bought Michael a pair of boots off Billy the totter and a few vests for the little ’un.

Nellie slanted a look at the pound notes and gave him a sly smile. Like most people who’d spent time in Campbell Bunk, she took an interest in those who’d risen above the squalor and disadvantage of their background and made something of themselves. She knew Rob Wild was getting rich. She also knew he hated his father – and her. She’d caused trouble between Jimmy and his late wife, but had shrugged off the guilt. Jimmy Wild would be a wrong ’un wherever he was and whoever he was with. But … she turned her head away to conceal the calculating glint in her eyes … she was between pimps, in need of some money, and definitely in need of a drink.

‘So, how’s life been treating you, gel?’ Jimmy took a swallow from his glass of ale and set the tankard back on the table.

‘Better’n you, by the looks of things,’ Nellie returned drily before emptying her glass of gin and orange in a couple of gulps.

Jimmy bit back a scathing response to her insult. She obviously didn’t have a mirror about the place where she kipped. ‘You always was a fine looker, Nel,’ he said gamely. ‘Had some good times ’cos of it, as I recall.’

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