The Cockney Angel (11 page)

Billy leapt the last three steps and making a growling noise deep in his throat he brandished his cane at Sal, who fled from the shop with a screech of fright. He laughed and hooked his top hat from the peg, tossing it in the air and catching it expertly on his head. In the past this trick had always made Irene laugh, but this time she was not at all amused. ‘Pa, how could you? Now it will be all round town that you terrified poor Sal.’

‘And maybe she will think twice before allowing her tongue to run away with her,’ Billy replied calmly. ‘I’ll be off now. Don’t worry about me, my dove. I’ll be home before you know it and all our money worries will be a thing of the past.’ He held out his arms. ‘Come here and give your old pa a kiss for good luck.’

Irene hesitated but as usual his twinkling eyes and warm smile melted her heart and she
crossed
the floor to give him a hug. ‘Oh, Pa. What am I going to do with you?’

He dropped a kiss on the top of her head and then extricated himself gently from her grasp. ‘Trust me, Renie. I know I’ve let you and your mother down in the past, but this time it will be different.’ He pressed a shilling into her hand. ‘Spend it on food and coal, and don’t give it to that bloodsucker Yapp. Tell him I’ll settle up in full on my return from Doncaster.’ Without giving her a chance to reply, Billy breezed out of the shop as if he had not a care in the world. Irene went to the door and watched with a sinking heart as he hailed a hansom cab. She had witnessed this scene so many times before that if she closed her eyes she could see the whole thing replayed to her like a bad dream. Tomorrow evening, or perhaps the following day, Pa would slink home like a whipped cur with his tail between his legs. He would have lost everything, possibly even his overcoat and the battered top hat which he wore with such aplomb. He would profess to be an older and wiser man and promise not to touch a bet again no matter how much he was tempted. By the same evening, he would have shaved, changed into a clean shirt and be off to the club in Blue Boar Court or some other gaming hell, where he would attempt to recoup his losses. In the past,
Ma
would have cried a little, but she would have been so happy to have him home again that she forgave him unconditionally.

Irene had seen her mother endure all this with a brave smile and not a word of reproach, and she had been powerless to do anything to prevent Pa from repeating his actions over and over again. She was angry and she was upset, but this latest example of his feckless behaviour had served to convince her that Inspector Kent had been right. The only way to prevent Pa from tumbling even further into the abyss of a gambling addiction was to shock him out of his complacency. If the Sykes brothers were caught, convicted and sent to prison, or transported for life, it might just bring Pa to his senses.

She kept the shop open until seven o’clock, serving a few customers but not enough to make up the money that she needed to keep Obadiah Yapp sweet. The light was fading fast and she decided to lock up. There was still no news from Arthur, but she took this as a good sign. Perhaps his father had allowed him back to his bench in the workshop and Arthur was making up for lost time. She hoped so anyway. Artie might be irresponsible, but she loved him like a brother. She put on her shawl, let herself out of the shop and went up the street to fetch coal, candles and a box of vestas. She stopped
on
the way home to buy two steaming baked potatoes from the vendor on the corner of Cheapside, and she could not resist the tempting aroma of roasting chestnuts on a glowing brazier. She bought a poke and added it to the purchases in her wicker basket. Outside the door to the shop she was fumbling in her pocket for the key when she heard Arthur calling her name. She turned her head to see him limping towards her, and in the pale light of the street lamp she could see that his face was bruised and bloody.

‘Artie! What happened to you?’

‘The old man,’ he murmured through a split lip. ‘I told him the truth and he took it bad.’

She managed to find the key and with trembling fingers she unlocked the door. She hid her distress beneath a brusque tone of voice. ‘Make yourself useful, Artie. Bring the coal in.’ When he was safely inside she locked the door and slipped the bolt across. She had left a candle burning on the counter and she picked it up, holding it close enough to his face to inspect his injuries. ‘Your dad did this to you?’

‘It looks worse than it is. I’m afraid I lost my temper, Renie. I hit him back. For the first time in my life I lashed out at the old devil, and d’you know what? I enjoyed it. I got my own back for all the years he’s beaten me and
bullied
me. I knocked him clean off his feet and bloodied his nose.’

‘Oh, Artie! You should have walked away.’

‘I know, but he caught me on the raw. He said things that I can’t forgive and he’s thrown me out of the house and my job. He said he wasn’t going to have a gambler and a waster in the family. I’m never going back there, not in a million years.’

Irene picked up her basket and headed towards the stairs. ‘Come on up. I’ll clean your face and then we’ll have supper.’

His footsteps echoed on the bare stair treads behind her. ‘Can I stay here tonight? I’ll look for something more permanent tomorrow.’

The fire in the living room was almost out and the wind whistled through the cracked windowpanes. Irene put the candle on the table and set about emptying her shopping basket. ‘Of course you can. Pa’s gone off to Doncaster and won’t be back until late tomorrow night, if then. We have to have a serious talk, Artie. I mean really serious. I’ve had Inspector Kent here again today, laying down the law.’

Arthur dumped the sack of coal in the grate with a thud. ‘If he’s been making threats to you I’ll go and sort him out right now.’

‘Yes, and get yourself arrested for disorderly conduct.’ In spite of everything Irene couldn’t suppress a chuckle. ‘Take a look at yourself in
the
mirror. You look like you’ve done ten rounds with a bare-knuckle fighter.’

He went down on his knees in front of the fire and began riddling the ashes. ‘I’ve made a mess of things, Renie. I’ve nowhere to go and not a penny to my name. My mother will never forgive me for what I did to the old man, and I’ve lost whatever chance I had of becoming a silversmith.’

Arms akimbo, Irene glared at his hunched back. ‘You won’t get any sympathy from me, Arthur Greenwood. You brought this all on yourself by getting involved with the Sykes gang in the first place. You’ve got to be a man now, and make things right again.’ A muffled sound that sounded suspiciously like a sob made her pause. She modified her tone. ‘Cheer up, cully. You’ll feel better when you’ve got some vittles inside you. It’s lucky I bought two taters. I must have known you’d turn up on my doorstep.’ When he did not answer she moved over to the fireplace and gently edged him out of the way. ‘Here, you’re useless, you are. Let me see to the fire while you clean yourself up. There’s water in the jug on the washstand and there might even be a scrap of soap if Pa hasn’t used it all up.’

Arthur scrambled to his feet, wiping his eyes on his sleeve. ‘Ta. I won’t forget this.’

‘Don’t mention it, boy. We’ll see this thing
through
together, like we did when we was nippers and got ourselves into bother.’ Irene picked up the bellows and pumped them vigorously until tongues of flame licked around the fresh coals in the grate. ‘A nice hot cup of tea and something warm in your belly, and you’ll feel like a new man.’

‘You make me ashamed of myself,’ Arthur murmured, sniffing.

Irene sat back on her haunches. ‘So you should be, you great booby. Now blow your nose, sit down, and have something to eat while I put the kettle on. You can stay here tonight, and who knows what’s going to happen tomorrow, for I certainly don’t.’

Next morning, soon after Irene had opened the shop, Yapp’s cart drew up outside, but instead of Danny it was Yapp himself who burst through the door. ‘Well, what is it to be, Miss Angel?’

Irene took the order book from beneath the counter and handed it to him. ‘Next week’s order, Mr Yapp.’

‘You do understand that it’s strictly cash on delivery?’

‘I’ll be able to pay,’ Irene said, crossing her fingers behind her back. It had been a difficult choice to make, but she had used the little money she had to pay the rent and to buy
food
, coal and candles. She could only hope and pray that she would take sufficient money over the counter to pay for new stock.

Yapp shook his head. ‘Not good enough. I want cash in advance this time.’

‘Cash on delivery. That’s the way it’s always been. You said so yourself.’

‘Your ma is a good businesswoman. I’ll waive the advance if she gives me the order in person.’

‘I’m afraid that’s not possible. Ma is staying with my sister and I’m looking after the shop.’

‘And your dad is helping hisself from the till, no doubt,’ Yapp sneered. ‘A nice state of affairs, I must say, and not one that gives me much confidence in getting me money on time.’

‘You’ve no right to speak to me like that,’ Irene cried angrily. ‘We’ve been good customers to you all these years.’

Yapp sidled round the counter and before Irene had a chance to escape he seized her round the waist. ‘Pay me in kind then, Miss Irene. I’m a reasonable sort of cove.’

His breath stank of salt fish and stale beer. Irene pushed him away, feeling her gorge rise. ‘Get off me, you stinking old sod.’

He staggered against the counter, his face turning the same shade of purple as the jar of
pickled
beetroot on the shelf behind his head. ‘You’ll suffer for that, my girl.’

‘Get out of my way.’ She attempted to get past him but he caught her by the hair and pulled her closer.

‘Not until I’ve had a kiss and a quick fumble. We’ll call it a bit on account.’

‘Leave her alone.’

A voice rang out from the shop doorway, causing Yapp to freeze. He turned his head slowly. ‘Who says?’

Constable Burton strode into the shop. ‘I say so. Now let her go.’

Irene jerked free from Yapp’s clutching fingers and she moved swiftly out of his reach. ‘Blimey,’ she murmured. ‘This is the first time I’ve ever been pleased to see a copper.’

‘Well I ain’t,’ Yapp muttered beneath his breath.

Constable Burton drew himself up to his full height. ‘That’s enough of that. Get out or I’ll arrest you for assault.’

‘I’m a reputable trader, guvner,’ Yapp whimpered, cringing visibly. ‘This young person has been trying to cheat me.’

‘Do you want to press charges, Miss Angel?’

Irene would have liked to see Yapp flogged with his own horsewhip, but she couldn’t afford to offend him. She shook her head. ‘No, Constable.’

‘You’re a lucky man. I suggest you leave before the young lady changes her mind.’

‘Consider yourself struck off me list of customers, miss,’ Yapp snarled, backing towards the open door.

‘You can’t mean that. You’ll put me out of business.’

‘Consider it done. I don’t want nothing more to do with the likes of you and your father.’

‘Good riddance to bad rubbish then,’ Irene cried angrily. ‘You’re just a dirty old man.’

Swearing horribly, Yapp stamped out of the shop, slamming the door behind him.

‘Were you in debt to him?’ Constable Burton asked anxiously. ‘I mean, I might be able to help you out if you’re desperate – just a temporary loan, of course.’

Irene flashed him a grateful smile. ‘No, ta. It’s kind of you, but I can manage.’

Burton’s face flushed scarlet above the collar of his tunic. ‘Miss Angel, I don’t know how to put this, but your father was seen boarding a train for Yorkshire last night. It doesn’t take a genius to work out that he was on his way to Doncaster for the races, and it seems that he’s left you short of money.’

So they were spying on her father as well as the Sykes brothers. Irene hid her chagrin by searching under the counter for the pickles and sauce that the inspector had paid for so
generously
. ‘There’s no need to worry on that score, Constable,’ she said, putting them on the counter. ‘Perhaps you’d be kind enough to give these to your boss to save him the trouble of collecting them himself?’

‘If I spoke out of turn, I’m sorry,’ Burton said hastily. ‘The reason I came was to arrange a time and place for you to meet the inspector. I believe you were expecting to hear from him.’

Irene nodded her head. ‘Yes, I was.’

‘I won’t let you do it, Renie.’

She looked up and saw Arthur standing at the top of the stairs. ‘It’s all right, Artie. I know what I’m doing.’

‘So you were here all the time, hiding upstairs while Miss Angel dealt with that ruffian,’ Burton said, eyeing Arthur with unconcealed contempt.

‘I know what you must think of me.’

‘Do you now?’

‘You think I am a coward for not coming to Irene’s aid.’

‘No, Artie,’ Irene said hastily. ‘I’m sure that the constable thinks nothing of the sort. You did well to keep out of Yapp’s way. I didn’t want you involved.’

‘No, Renie, he’s right. I should have been here to protect you instead of licking my wounds upstairs.’

Burton eyed him curiously. ‘Did the Sykes gang inflict those injuries on you?’

‘No,’ Arthur said, staring down at his once shiny but now scuffed and dirty patent-leather shoes. ‘It was closer to home than that.’

Irene sensed her old friend’s discomfort and she hurried round the counter to face Constable Burton. ‘Just tell us what the inspector wants us to do, Constable, and we’ll cooperate in any way we can.’

‘Very well then. From now on he wants you both to go about your daily lives as usual. Mr Greenwood will visit the gaming house in Blue Boar Court and he must do nothing to raise their suspicions. The inspector thinks that the Sykes brothers are planning to start a gang war and he needs to know where and when they intend to strike, and which of the other street gangs are involved. You will give any relevant information to Miss Angel, sir, and she will then pass it on to the inspector.’

‘I’ll do what I can,’ Arthur murmured sulkily.