East End Angel Part 12

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN.

'You've got a visitor.'

Kathy simply frowned. She had walked all the way home preoccupied by tortured thoughts of the Potters and had been startled by Eunice pouncing on her as she unlatched the gate.

'He's hanging about in there.' Eunice jerked a nod at the waiting room. 'I told him you were due back any minute.'

Kathy had an inkling of the ident.i.ty of the caller even before Nick Raven started strolling down the path towards her. She hadn't wanted anyone else to be in on this meeting and wished Eunice would take herself off. She caught her breath as Nick approached, having forgotten just how handsome and imposing he could seem. He was taller and broader than Dr Worth or David, for that matter and his fair hair seemed to have a silver glint with the evening sun on it. Had she been more alert Kathy realised she would have recognised his smart car parked a few yards down the road and be prepared for this.

'Oh ... h.e.l.lo.' Kathy forced out a greeting. 'I expect you've had my letter by now and have turned up about the bike.'

'Mmm. Sorry it's taken me a while to come over. Been busy.'

'That's all right ... I understand ...' Kathy glanced at Eunice, still hovering. 'It's in the shed. I'll just unlock it. I expect I didn't make plain the sort of bike I was after; second-hand was all I wanted.' She gave him a flashing glance. 'But thanks anyway for taking the trouble to-'

'Mr Raven wants to donate the bike to the surgery,' Eunice interrupted, suppressing a smirk. 'So it's not just yours, you see, Kathy. We can keep it for the next nurse to use when you leave.'

'Right ... good ...' Kathy eventually said, swerving her blue gaze to clash on a pair of narrowed grey eyes. 'How thoughtful of you, Mr Raven.'

'Sorry ... should have made myself clear when I dropped it off.' Nick dug his hands deeper into his pockets. 'It was my fault the other one got pinched, anyhow, so I ought to replace it. Charlie and me were a distraction to you that night. I expect you'd've remembered to lock the bike if we hadn't shown up a bit the worse for wear.'

Eunice's expression made it clear she'd like an explanation.

'Mr Raven brought Ruby Potter's husband home the night Paul was born and there was a bit of confusion.' Kathy left it at that.

'Oh ... Potter had been drinking, had he?' Eunice's features registered distaste. 'I recall the family you mean. Came a month early, didn't he, the poor little blighter.' She turned to Nick. 'A bike is so important with night-time emergencies like ours. Babies won't wait for the buses, you know ...'

The group fell quiet as the last patient, leaning on a stick, came out of the building and went on his way. A moment later, Eunice's husband followed the elderly fellow down the path, hand extended towards Nick in readiness to be shaken.

Sidney Worth knew of Nick Raven's reputation. A while ago the man had had his picture in the local paper for donating fifty pounds towards the cost of rebuilding the community hall. Sidney knew if he could foster enough support and private funding from philanthropists the project he had in mind might materialise. He wanted to enlarge the maternity clinic into the annexe where Nurse Finch had quarters. Of course, it would mean she and her successors would have to find alternative accommodation ...

'Eunice has told me about your gift, sir. Much obliged for such generosity.' Dr Worth grasped the fingers Nick had withdrawn from his pocket and pumped them. 'We are always very grateful when local businessmen find it in their hearts to be charitable. The less fortunate of the parish benefit enormously from such gestures-'

'My pleasure.' Nick cut across Dr Worth's grat.i.tude in a voice tinged with irony.

'Well ... I'll leave you all to it. I have some notes to write up,' Kathy said, giving him a sharp glance.

'There was something else I wanted to speak to you about, Nurse Finch.'

Kathy hesitated; so did Dr Worth and Eunice, until it became obvious that their benefactor was waiting for them to leave before saying anything else.

'I take it you're not going to ask me in.' Nick nodded at her front door as the couple disappeared inside the surgery.

'That's right,' Kathy replied politely.

'I'm getting divorced.'

'Sorry to hear it,' Kathy said.

He gave her a rueful smile. 'Look, perhaps I should have mentioned it sooner.'

'I don't know why you think I'd be interested.'

'I think you do.'

'And I think you know that I told you I have a boyfriend.'

'Ah, David Goldstein ... that's right. You did tell me about him.'

'I didn't tell you his surname,' Kathy blurted, alarmed that he might have been checking up on her. 'How did you find that out?'

'My ex-wife works for the Goldsteins, in one of their shops. I know they've got a son called David who's a local copper. Wasn't that hard to work out he was probably the one. But I wasn't quite sure till just now ...'

Kathy's lips parted in surprise, leaving her momentarily dumbfounded. 'Well, small world,' she eventually said.

'Yeah ... too small,' Nick muttered. 'My mother took to you.'

'I thought she was nice,' Kathy admitted after a quiet moment reflecting on the meeting with Lottie Raven. 'Has Charlie Potter been back bothering her? I didn't think it right to ask her about it.'

'I hope she'd tell me if he had.'

'He's still beating his wife.' The words spurted out of her like vomit.

The dreadful knowledge of Potter's brutality was burning like acid in her gut and the longer she kept it to herself the more the pain became unbearable. Nick Raven was the only person she felt she could talk to about it because it was no secret to him. A member of his own family had first-hand experience of Charlie's s.a.d.i.s.tic streak.

There had been times when Kathy had yearned to confide her worst fears in David, but she'd realised he might feel duty-bound to tell his superiors and they would intervene. Ruby's lot would then worsen; she might even lose her beloved children.

Nick rubbed a hand over his jaw. 'It doesn't surprise me he's still dishing out right-handers.'

'I suspect he might have hurt the children too, before now,' Kathy whispered. 'I've seen marks on Pansy ... Ruby says she's clumsy. I've no proof of anything.'

'And the baby? Have you seen bruises on him?' Nick demanded.

Kathy shook her head. 'I made up an excuse to examine him not long ago. He's bonny and seems content.'

Nick stared at her; that he understood the gravity of the situation was clear in his expression.

'I've just come from theirs, actually. I made a point of popping in this afternoon. I often stop by if I think Charlie might be out. Ruby has a bruise healing on her face.'

Nick came closer to her as though to comfort her. 'Have you mentioned any of it?' He raised his eyes, indicating the surgery with a subtle nod.

'Ruby's made me promise not to. She's scared the children might be taken away by the cruelty people.'

'Be the best thing, wouldn't it?'

'Not for her!' Kathy hissed, violently shaking her head. 'I think she'd kill herself if she lost them.'

'If Charlie doesn't top her first, you mean?' Nick brusquely gestured apology for his sarcasm. 'You going to come out with me so we can talk about this some more?'

Kathy gazed at him, disillusioned.

Nick blew out his lips in a gruff chuckle. 'All right, I own up: I want to get to know you a bit better too.'

'No strings attached?'

Nick shrugged, walked away a pace. 'If that's how you want it ...' he said over a shoulder.

'You don't sound very convincing.'

'Good ... because if I did, you'd accuse me of play-acting. When's your afternoon off?'

'Wednesday next week.' Kathy answered automatically.

'Right. I'll pick you up after midday.'

'Not before one o'clock. I don't finish till half twelve. I'm going to tell David about it.'

'You do that.' Nick gave her a second long smile before striding towards the gate.

'I was hoping I might b.u.mp into you, mate.' In fact, Charlie had been loitering in the vicinity of the bus stop with the intention of intercepting Davy. He knew Stan's son routinely travelled back to Islington at about five o'clock, having spent Sat.u.r.day afternoon with his father. 'Got a minute for a chat and a cup of char before you get on yer way?'

Davy grinned, delighted to see him. It had been some weeks since they'd met, but in the meantime, Davy hadn't forgotten his dad's stepson. He had often found himself wondering whether Charlie's promise to let him know if a job turned up had been just talk. He was praying it had not.

'Course I've got a minute. I'll catch a later bus home,' Davy burbled.

'Go over there, shall we, and have a cuppa? Fancy a bacon sandwich, do you?' Charlie indicated the greasy spoon caff across the road.

Davy nodded eagerly. His father had been stingy earlier, spending only a few coppers on some grub when they were out walking, and leaving Davy still hungry. There'd been no sit-down in a caff for a bite to eat on a Sat.u.r.day afternoon since the day he'd had Tom's company. His friend hadn't been over again. Eddie Finch had seen his son getting off the bus when they got back to Islington that evening. Tom's dad had wanted to know all the ins and outs of where they'd been and who'd they'd seen. After that, Tom had said he couldn't be bothered to make the trip again.

Joyce Groves plonked down two cups of tea. 'Bring the bacon sandwiches over in a minute,' she muttered, returning to the kitchen.

Charlie watched her pert rear end disappearing inside the kitchen door. Before it swung shut, out wafted a sound of sizzling and an appetising savoury aroma.

'So what you been up to since I last saw you?' Charlie turned his attention to Davy. 'Been lucky and found yerself some work?'

Davy shook his head. 'Done a few errands fer peanuts, that's about it. Finished school 'n' all, I have, and me mum's driving me mad about getting full-time pay.'

'Got nuthin' but errands?' Charlie sounded disgusted.

'Had a good bit coming in from me street betting lark a while back. Up to thirty players a session turned up when I was croupier on the dice,' Davy announced proudly. 'But that's turned sour. I'm getting elbowed out 'cos the men don't like the idea of me getting good at it and takin' over.'

'Street gambling, eh? You don't mind a bit of duckin' 'n' divin' then, Davy boy?' Knowing Stan's son didn't mind operating on the wrong side of the law was a relief to Charlie and made his plans more likely to come to fruition.

'Nah ... do anythin', I will, s'long as it pays,' Davy boasted, his hopes soaring that he was about to hear some good news about a job.

'How about your pal ... Tom was his name, wasn't it? How's he doing work-wise?'

'He ain't yet left school so he's just got a bit of sweeping up down the railway yard. Sometimes I get a day down the market. Me mum likes that 'cos I always bring her in a bit of veg even if the geezer don't pay ...'

'Ain't no real use, though, is it?' Charlie said pessimistically. 'You should be getting proper wages.'

Davy nodded, hoping this was leading somewhere.

'Course, you know why there's no regular jobs, don't you, son?' Charlie stuck out a digit in readiness to start wagging it in emphasis. 'Too many bleedin' foreigners in the country taking all the work, that's the reason. Then there's the Jews got fingers in all the pies ...' He shook his head regretfully. 'Makes it hard for the rest of us, don't it? I mean, I'm a union man meself but I don't like the way the Commies are muscling in on the act ...' Charlie sucked his teeth, grimacing.

Davy didn't know much about politics and previously had had no desire to learn. He'd heard lots of similar complaints to Charlie's from the men and some of the women living on Campbell Road who blamed their hard luck on outsiders. He realised Charlie was expecting his support on the matter so began nodding solemnly.

'Me guvnor ... part-time guvnor that is, 'cos I've got regular shifts down the docks well, he's big in Mosley's crew. Heard of the British Union of Fascists, have you, mate? Trying to put things right fer us all, they are, and me and me guvnor are right behind them. We do a bit of fundraising for the party. Heard of Sir Oswald Mosley, have you, Davy?'

Davy nodded. 'I saw him once. Got a gammy leg, ain't he? His lot come round our way sometimes and give a talk. I'm all for 'em. Same as you.'

'Got his limp fighting for king and country, you know. Youth cadets march at Mosley's rallies. Sensible kids about your age, who know things've got to change. I expect you've seen them decked out in smart outfits.'

'Yeah ... I have seen 'em.' Davy had thought the Fascists looked good in their black-shirted uniforms. The only shirts he wore came off totters' barrows, bought by his mother. Apart from wanting to earn to keep a roof over his head, he needed good pay so he could start choosing his own clothes instead of wearing the rags she brought in for him.

Joyce Groves crossed her arms and leaned against the doorjamb, watching Charlie and the lad nattering while she waited for Les to finish frying bacon for their sandwiches. She was in a bad mood, and had been for days.

Nick had picked her up outside work one evening last week and her pleasure at that unexpected meeting had soon vanished when he told her it was over between them.

Her subsequent attempts to contact Nick for an explanation had met with a blank. If she phoned him he was civil but abrupt, and the receiver went down after a few seconds. When she'd turned up on his doorstep he hadn't invited her in and had remained unmoved by her seductive appearance and s.e.xual promises.

In her heart, Joyce knew she didn't need him to tell her why he'd called a halt. There was nothing for it but to try to persuade him not to listen to that poisonous b.i.t.c.h of a wife of his. But Nick wouldn't discuss Blanche or anything else, for that matter.

Joyce had known the cow would go crying to her ex-husband about the fight they'd had, and blame everything on her. She knew the couple weren't yet back living together because Blanche was still hanging about with Charlie Potter. But Joyce was miserably aware that her rival must have had some success weaselling her way back into Nick's life, although she couldn't believe that Nick would be jealous of the likes of Potter.

The first time her brother, Kenny, told her that Blanche and Charlie had been spotted together in the pub Joyce had howled with laughter. In Joyce's opinion, the bra.s.s-faced baggage deserved to be brought down a few pegs. Blanche had swanned about like Lady Muck when she was Wes Silver's bit on the side. It was only after May dragged her husband home that Blanche remembered she had a husband of her own.

Joyce's mouth slanted calculatingly. Charlie had noticed her watching him and was staring back. Usually, she wouldn't be seen dead with someone as old and rough as him. She reckoned that Blanche felt more or less the same way about getting involved with the sc.u.mbag. But Potter was at the centre of things and could therefore be useful. Joyce had a burning need to get even with Blanche for ruining her chances with Nick Raven.

'Here we are ... two nice hot bacon sandwiches,' Joyce said, leaning forward to show a bit of cleavage while putting down the plates.

Charlie gave her a shrewd look. Usually, Joyce couldn't be bothered to have a chat with him, but she seemed to be giving him a green light now. Just to make sure he wasn't dreaming, a few calloused fingers travelled to the back of her knee, fondling. She didn't move away, or hiss a curse at him beneath her breath, as she usually did.

Charlie's throaty chuckle made Joyce's hackles rise. But she gave him a flirtatious smile. 'Bacon sandwich is going cold,' she mocked, sauntering off, well aware he was watching her swaying hips.

She went into the kitchen, a sneer curling her lips. She wouldn't mind leading him on, letting him think he might get lucky when there was no chance she'd ever sleep with him. She was younger and prettier than Blanche and any man would choose her over Nick's ex-wife. Then when Charlie kicked Blanche into touch, making her look a stupid cow, Joyce would tell Potter that he could go and get stuffed, and laugh as she did it.