Another discreet squint at Jeannie’s attire told Tilly that if the stuff were as good as what she had on it would be a payday. ‘I’ll take a look at it, if you like,’ she said with gruff nonchalance. ‘I don’t mind doing a bit of hawkin’ so I’ll have the lot off you if the price is right.’
‘Right,’ Jeannie said briskly. ‘I’ll be back one evening next week with it. Just so’s you know in advance, I’ll be wanting a guinea for the lot.’
Tilly’s eyes slew to the velvet hat perched on top of Jeannie’s head. It looked to have cost all of that and more. Jeannie Robertson was doing her a good turn in the only way she could … by making out it wasn’t much good at all.
This time when Jeannie set off Tilly watched her go then emerged from the doorway and walked in the opposite direction. Beattie hove immediately into view to trot after her. When Tilly continued to smile, but remained uncommunicative, curiosity got the better of Beattie’s usual caution with this woman.
‘What’s she want?’ she demanded.
‘To pay her dues.’ Tilly’s good mood remained unspoiled by her neighbour’s crude inquisitiveness. So she didn’t advise Beattie to keep her snout out.
‘Bleedin’ hell, Fran! Knock next time, will you?’ Tilly snatched up from the table the money that Jeannie had given her earlier in the week and thrust it into a pocket. But her sister had seen it and her eyes darted to the place into which the notes had just disappeared.
‘You done alright for yourself, then. Where d’you get that sort of cash?’ Fran came further into the room and closed the door that lead onto the landing.
‘Jeannie Robertson’s been by to pay back what she owed.’
Fran’s eyes opened in wonderment. ‘She’s come back after all this time to pay you what she owed?’ she echoed.
‘Yeah; surprised me ‘n’ all. She’s doing alright now. Got a rich fancy man, she has.’
‘Lend us ten bob, will you?’
Tilly stood up and said curtly, ‘Already lent yer, Fran, and you said Jimmy was going to pay you something last Friday so’s you could give it me back this week.’ Tilly looked at her sister. ‘Take it you ain’t seen him, and you’ve got nothing for me, then.’
‘Don’t look like you need it,’ Fran remarked sullenly.
‘This here’s gotta last. Jack ain’t here helpin’ out now, Fran. It’s just me ‘n’ the girls. Ain’t got a man’s wages coming in.’
‘Neither have I.’
Tilly sensed that Fran had a complaint to make and was waiting for the right moment to slip it into the conversation. ‘Jimmy’s done the dirty on you again.’ She wearily stabbed a guess.
‘I’m done with him.’ Fran curled her lip. ‘He ain’t never going to leave that cow and come home for good. Ain’t seen him or his wages in weeks. Done with him for good, I am.’
Tilly grunted a laugh. ‘Well now, I ain’t even going to ask if you mean it. But if I really believed that he was gone for good I’d say keep the money wot I lent you and take this ‘n’ all as a thank-you present.’ She drew the fifteen pounds out of her pocket and slapped it down on the table. ‘It’d be worth all of that to see the back of the bastard once ‘n’ fer all. Trouble is, I know you don’t mean it this time any more than you did the last. So you can leave that cash where it is.’
Jimmy Wild yanked up his coat collar as he emerged from the King’s Head pub and sloped off towards Seven Sisters Road. He kept his head down. By hiding what he could of his face he hoped nobody closer to home would spot the beating he’d taken. He’d been a figure of fun in the pub because of it. But he’d needed a few drinks so he’d taken the stares and whispers while he knocked back a couple of pints and whisky chasers and mentally licked his wounds. Rage and resentment made him grind his back teeth. In turn that made him flinch and curse as his skin tightened on bruises that were constantly throbbing.
Earlier that evening he’d been to see Nellie to collect what he liked to call his commission from her. He’d known for a while that the bitch was keen to ditch him. She wasn’t as docile as Fran who’d take a painful lesson in obedience then open her legs for him an hour later without too much complaint in case the boys got a taste of his temper. Nellie, he’d learned to his irritation, was a brooder. She’d carry on sulking and moaning for days at a time. But her resistance to accepting a bit of discipline, or to handing over the thick end of her earnings, wasn’t the reason she wanted rid of him. Nellie liked a man around to warn the other working girls and their pimps she’d got someone looking after her interests. The reason she no longer wanted Jimmy was that she’d found someone to take his place.
Saul Bateman had taken care of Jimmy too when he’d showed up unannounced and caught the two of them in bed. Jimmy had unwisely thought he’d got the fellow at a disadvantage seeing as how he was stark bollock naked, pumping away on top of Nellie and breathing heavily. So he’d confidently left the knife in his pocket and landed the first punch. But in a leap his younger rival was on his feet and impressing on Jimmy he was the better man in every way. Nellie, the silly tart, had started shrieking and grabbing the sheet to cover herself as though she’d revealed something he’d never seen before.
It hadn’t taken long – a few to the face and a couple of body blows – for Jimmy to realise he was outmatched. He’d fled with Saul’s bellowed threat to kill him following him down the stairs and out into the dusk. Now, as he ambled on, instinctively towards The Bunk, Jimmy brooded on when and where he might be able to again catch the bastard by surprise, and on that occasion use his blade rather than his fists on him.
His plans for revenge brought little consolation. Unendurable humiliation still savaged his mind and Jimmy’s instinct was to find a whipping dog to buck him up a bit. As he turned in to Campbell Road he saw just what he needed.
Fran saw him right back. She’d been out in the street looking for Stevie and Bobbie to order them indoors as it was late. She’d had a bad day too and was in no mood for any nonsense from her sons or from the useless git she’d married. Jimmy had given her no wages for over three weeks. Adding to her money troubles was the tight-fisted client who had promised to pay her today for last week’s washing, but hadn’t. Nevertheless if she’d known what sort of mood Jimmy was in, or that he’d been in a fight, she might have proceeded with caution. As it was Fran just gave him a scowl, two raised fingers and a contemptuous, ‘Fuck off.’
Her attitude was like a red rag to a bull. But Jimmy used his soppy smile as he approached. He was still looking pleased when he landed a short jab to the side of her face. Taken by surprise Fran reeled back with little more than a grunt. Deftly he caught her and dragged her out of sight into the hallway before any neighbour started taking an interest in what was happening. With grim determination pursing his mouth Jimmy started up the stairs dragging Fran, dazed and groaning, with him. He quickly shoved her inside the room and used a boot on her buttocks to propel her towards the bed. She hit the edge and collapsed, neatly avoiding the fist he’d swung at her. Annoyed at that, he yanked her up by the hair and deliberately aimed to split her nose and lip.
Fran stayed sprawled where she was, eyes closed, bleeding mouth agape. Even when Jimmy drew the belt from around his waist, slowly, as though savouring the slither of leather on his hips, Fran remained unresponsive.
Jimmy tested her with a vicious lash across the legs but she was out cold and didn’t murmur or flinch. Fired up and frustrated he kicked her for good measure then prowled back and forth. His lips drew back against his teeth as he began cursing the stupid bitch for being so pathetically weak that a couple of smacks had finished her off too soon. If he hung around waiting for her to come round so he could give her a bit more Bobbie and Stevie were sure to turn up and create a commotion. The boys were older now; not so inclined to cower quietly in a corner when he was on the rampage. He didn’t want old Prewett poking his nose in, or Tilly bloody Keiver for that