Part 10 (2/2)

'See me old man.'

Tom Finch had just turned up at Davy's house, football under his arm, to find his friend emerging from his doorway looking cleaner and tidier than he usually did when they had a kick-about on a weekend.

'Thought this week you was going over Sunday to see him,' Tom said huffily. Davy had told him he'd got an opportunity to act as croupier on Sat.u.r.day dinnertime.

'Going today; nuthin' doing for me on the corner.' Davy sounded disappointed; the job of croupier could be lucrative and therefore sought after by grown men who thought they were more ent.i.tled to the pickings than any upstart kids showing promise at it. Davy feared he would soon be elbowed out completely as more men in the street lost their regular employment.

'Fancy comin' over there with me?' Davy asked as they walked up the road. He'd asked Tom before if he fancied a bus ride to Whitechapel but his friend had never taken him up on the offer.

'Me mum'll go nuts.'

'Don't tell her.'

Tom fancied doing something now he was at a loose end. He had a s.h.i.+lling burning a hole in his pocket for the fare. Kathy had come by earlier in the week to visit and had slipped him the coin out of sight of their mother's eagle eye. If Winnie had seen it she'd have had it off him the moment Kathy went home.

'Be back by teatime, will we?' Tom asked, partially swayed by the idea of a trip out.

'Yeah ... always back by then 'cos me dad's gotta take that old bag down the pub Sat.u.r.day night.' Davy now knew enough about his father's domestic routine: Violet's rule was that Stan must be home early for his tea so they could get ready to go out on the razzle by six o'clock.

Tom grinned. 'All right ... just get rid of this and tell me mum we're off to the flicks.' He tossed the football in the air, catching it before setting off up the street at a trot.

'Don't take ages, then, or we'll miss the bleedin' bus,' Davy called after his friend.

'h.e.l.lo, son, how you doin'?' Stan Wright extended a hand to Tom and shook it. 'Remember your dad, I do. Me 'n' Eddie would have a pint together now 'n' again when I was living in Islington.'

Tom smiled bashfully, trying not to stare at the big bruise on Davy's dad's cheek. Stan had obviously been in a fight and Tom reckoned the man must be a bit of a rough handful although he looked a lot older than his own dad. Stan's hair was almost completely grey and spa.r.s.e on top, and he had a soft wobbly belly on him, visible beneath his faded check s.h.i.+rt. It was a warm July day and where he'd rolled his sleeves back Tom could see an anchor tattoo adorning one of his forearms. Tom felt impressed that Davy had such a father. His own dad didn't have any tattoos and he was a coward. Tom remembered past occasions when men came round after Eddie to accuse him of short-changing them on a deal. Eddie would get Winnie to say he was out while he hid upstairs, peeping out from behind the bedroom curtains, till the coast was clear.

Stan Wright sensed Tom Finch studying his purple cheek so avoided his son's knowing eye. He was getting sick of Violet branding him for all to see. He knew that daughter-in-law of hers was most of the problem, winding her up by coming over asking for money.

'Where we going then?' Davy asked as they set off, jostling to and fro in the bustling market, smirking at merchants' ribald patter.

'Don't mind, son ... fancy taking the weight off for a cuppa and a bun in a caff?'

'Yeah ... great ...' Davy was happy to take advantage of his father showing off in front of Tom. Usually, Stan's largesse would run to a pie or sausage roll for them both from a street vendor.

'So ... your dad still in the same business, is he, Tom?' Stan asked craftily. He was aware his question made the boy s.h.i.+ft uncomfortably on his chair. When he'd lived in Islington he'd come to hear that Eddie earned well ducking and diving on the wrong side of the law.

'Yeah ... he's still got his own business. I'm joining him when I leave school,' Tom added proudly.

'Are yer now?' Stan nodded at his son. 'Hear that, Davy? Yer mate's going in with his dad.'

'Shame you ain't got a business, then I'd go in with you,' Davy answered wistfully.

'Wish I did have me own lark set up, son. But me stepson, as I call him, even though he ain't proper family like you, well, Charlie's in partners with a very big noise round the East End.' Stan had elevated Charlie Potter from Wes's underling to his equal.

'Yeah?' Davy sounded interested. 'I'm done with school soon. Any chance you could put in a word fer me with Charlie?'

'Oh, no, son,' Stan said quickly, wis.h.i.+ng he'd kept his mouth shut. His stepson wouldn't take kindly to finding out he'd been discussing him. 'Closed shop, it is, if you get me drift ...' He tapped the side of his nose and gulped down his tea.

Davy looked downhearted; he would have liked to be able to brag to pals, as Tom did, that he was going to work in a family firm. Most of the kids who'd left school at the end of term only had dead-end errand-boy jobs or the queue at the Labour Exchange to look forward to.

'What you up to then?'

Charlie Potter had come up behind the trio seated in the caff and taken the table opposite. Politely he yanked back a chair for his female companion before lounging into his own.

Stan had instinctively shot to his feet at the sight of his stepson, wondering if he'd been overheard talking about him a moment ago. When Charlie gave him an easy smile, he sank down into his seat, feeling foolish. 'Bleedin' took me by surprise, Charlie, creeping up like that,' he complained, trying to cover his lapse.

'Guilty conscience, mate, that is.' Charlie smirked at the two lads. He gave the waitress a lazy wink as she set down two cups of tea on the table. 'Reckon one of you must be Stan's son. Me muvver's told me about a lad coming over on a Sat.u.r.day.' He didn't add that Vi had moaned something chronic about it.

'That's me,' Davy piped up when his father sat sullen and silent. 'And this is me pal Tom Finch.'

'Well, nice to meet you both.' Charlie sensed a pair of sharp dark eyes on him. 'I'll introduce you to me friend Blanche now you've done the honours.' Charlie had noticed that Stan had been darting suspicious glances at the pretty brunette with him.

Blanche perked up now she wasn't being overlooked, dimpling a smile. She'd noticed that the older youth had been ogling her bosom while talking to Charlie, so leaned forward, elbows on the table so he could get a better look. 'This your stepfather then, is it, Charlie?' she asked.

'That's him.' Charlie slung a brawny arm around her shoulders, just to let Stan into the nature of his relations.h.i.+p with Blanche. He could tell the old sod was itching to know if he was sleeping with a bit on the side. He wasn't yet, because Blanche was still playing hard to get, but he was confident that once he bought her the dress she'd admired a moment ago, hanging up on a stall in the market, she'd come across. Stan didn't have the guts to make any sly remarks about his wife and kids at home, so, just to rub it in that he'd managed to hook up with a good-looker young enough to be his daughter, Charlie nuzzled Blanche's cheek, making her giggle.

'You lads finished yer teas?' Stan shoved away his cup and saucer. 'Come on, let's get goin' ...'

'Somethin' I said?' Charlie asked, sounding jolly.

'Don't be daft,' Stan muttered. 'We're off now 'cos Davy and his mate have gotta get the bus back to Islington soon. See you later on then, Charlie ...'

'Ain't in a rush to get home, Dad,' Davy piped up, drawing a glare from Stan. He ignored it, getting to his feet. If his father wouldn't put in a word for him, he'd do it himself. 'Me dad's told me how well you're doing in yer business. I'm leaving school soon and looking fer a good job ...' He boldly stuck out a hand to Charlie.

'Told you all about me, did he now?' Charlie cut in, giving Stan a menacing smile. 'That's nice.' He pumped Davy's hand. 'I'll keep you in mind, son, don't you worry about that.'

Davy beamed, then realising his father was already on his way to the door he followed him.

Blanche spooned sugar into her tea and stirred it. 'Fancy a bit of cake,' she announced sulkily.

Charlie looked at her. 'Fancy lots of things, don't yer, gel? Fancy me, do yer?'

'Course I do ...' Blanche purred in a bid to open his wallet.

She realised that oddly it was the truth. She was coming to like his rough-and-ready ways and was glad he'd made an effort to get in touch with her after they met on the day of her fight with Joyce Groves. She'd come out of work one evening to find him hanging about outside the Goldsteins' dress shop. After a bit of dilly-dallying, she'd agreed to go with him for a drink in a pub, because she was losing hope of her and Nick getting back together.

It had been weeks since she'd received a letter from her estranged husband's solicitor about the divorce and she'd resigned herself to the inevitable. Blanche would sooner have got back with Wes Silver if she couldn't have Nick. But she knew that wouldn't happen either. His wife now had a stranglehold on him, following their affair. Although he was only consolation prize, Charlie Potter had a swagger and a powerful presence that impressed her. She'd noticed when they'd been in the market that people were respectful when he was around, moving quickly aside so he could guide her closer to the stalls and let her see the merchandise. She'd heard rumours about him being a wrong 'un but he could be a gentleman to her. So she reckoned Charlie Potter might do till someone better came along ...

'Need a new dress if we're going out later. Got nothing to wear ...' Blanche thought she might as well test how much of a gentleman he was prepared to be. If he paid for it, she knew she'd feel aroused enough to stay the night with him if he again suggested getting them a room in a hotel.

'Don't you get no discount off the clothes where you work?' Charlie had rented an old Humber to pick her up from work last week in the hope of getting her to join him on the back seat. She'd let him get her merry on gin and orange but had turned her nose up at the rest. He'd reluctantly upped his offer to a night in a hotel but still she'd flounced off home. Charlie was starting to think Blanche was hard work and it was high time she let him find out if she was worth the effort.

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