Part 17 (1/2)

'I guessed that much, but who could 'ave took it?' William wondered, frowning.

George stood with hands on hips, shaking his head. 'I took it off when I 'ad a sluice on Friday afternoon, an' I fergot ter put it back on when I left 'ere at five. It couldn't 'ave bin any o' the carmen, they was all finished before I left. There was only you an' that idiot Oxford left.'

'Well, I didn't take it,' William said quickly.

'I'm not sayin' yer did, but I wouldn't mind bettin' Oxford took it. Who else would be stupid enough ter leave fish-an'chip sc.r.a.pin's in the desk?'

'Come on, George,' William said, turning on his employer. 'Jack Oxford wouldn't 'ave took yer watch. I know 'e comes in 'ere at times but the man ain't a thief.'

'Well, if it wasn't 'im, who could 'ave took it?' George growled. 'Could somebody 'ave come in the yard after I'd gone? It's not the watch so much, it's losin' the fob piece. Yer know 'ow long I've 'ad that.'

William nodded. The fob had gone the way it came, he thought to himself. 'The only fing I can fink of is that somebody got in 'ere over the weekend,' he offered. 'It might 'ave bin an ole tramp. 'E might 'ave got in frew the back fencin'. I'll go an' 'ave a look see.'

Jack Oxford moved smartly away from where he had been standing near the office door and bent over his broom industriously as the foreman came out into the yard.

Within a few minutes William had returned to the office. 'There was a loose plank by the end stable,' he told Galloway. 'That's 'ow they got in. I'll get it nailed up straight away.'

George puffed angrily and slumped down in his chair, grimacing with exasperation at his sudden loss. The explanation seemed to satisfy him, but William made a mental note to have a word with Jack Oxford as soon as Galloway was out of the way. He had noticed that the plank had been loosened from the inside.

Chapter Nineteen.

George Galloway was in a bad mood as he stood in front of the mirror in his bedroom and tried to fix his cravat. He had had to replace his watch-and-chain, and now his new grey suit felt tight around the chest. Nora looked in through the open door and when she saw George puffing, came in.

'Let me fix it,' she said, reaching up on tiptoe.

George sighed. 'We're gonna be late,' he grumbled. 'It'll take at least an hour ter get ter Brixton.'

Nora stepped back from her handiwork. 'There, that looks better,' she said, glancing in the mirror and adjusting her wide bonnet. It seemed right that she was going along with George to see Frank get married, as she had watched him and his brother and sister grow up and had taken care of the three of them. It was the first time she had gone to a wedding since she and her husband walked down the aisle together. 'I should 'ave bought the grey bonnet,' she said. 'This looks more suitable for a funeral.'

George pulled a face. 'Yer look very nice,' he remarked.

'Yer look very smart yerself,' Nora said, appraising him with a smile. 'Grey suits yer. Now c'mon, it's time we left.'

Nora sat straight-backed in the trap as they left the square. It was the first time she had ridden in it and she felt a little apprehensive as the gelding broke into a trot in response to George's flick of the reins. The high wheels rattled over the cobbles and she gave George a quick glance as they turned into Jamaica Road. He looked very distinguished, she thought. His grey Homburg matched his suit and his greying hair was swept back at the sides and plastered down with brilliantine. He had trimmed his full moustache and was wearing cashmere gloves turned back at the wrists. Nora noticed the glances from people they pa.s.sed and she smiled to herself. Her life was now happy once more, she reflected. She had the independence that she needed and the love of a good man as well. He was considerate, if a little moody at times, but she was not a young woman with her head full of childish romantic notions. George came into her bed on regular occasions and she was happy with their relations.h.i.+p. The one thing that made her feel sad, though, was the way he often ignored young Josephine and seemed to have very little room for her in his life. Josie was growing into a pretty young thing and she needed her father to show an interest in her. He seemed uncomfortable in her company and rather curt at times, but maybe that was understandable and even excusable in a way, Nora allowed. He was a gruff, coa.r.s.e man who had never really tried to refine himself and it seemed that he harboured no desire to change now.

The journey took over an hour and the wedding guests had already a.s.sembled in the church when George and Nora arrived. Heads turned as they walked along the aisle. George's shoes were squeaking loudly. 'I should 'ave stuck some axle-grease on 'em,' he said in a voice loud enough for those nearest him to hear.

Nora winced as the couple in front turned around and looked blankly at them. 'Keep yer voice down,' she whispered, smiling at him through clenched teeth.

A hush had descended. Suddenly the church organ boomed out the Wedding March. Heads turned as Frank's bride Bella came down the aisle on the arm of her father with four bridesmaids holding her train. Josephine was one of the first pair and Nora nudged George as the procession pa.s.sed them. 'Doesn't she look lovely?' she whispered.

He was looking at Bella and nodded.

'I was talkin' about Josie,' Nora muttered sharply.

Bella looked relaxed and self-possessed as she walked slowly towards the altar. She was wearing a full-length white dress cut very tight at the bodice to accentuate her large bosom. She wore a full veil crowned with a flowered tiara and her face was heavily made-up. Nora could not help feeling that she looked anything but a demure bride. She was glancing from side to side and smiling in that artificial way, fluttering her eyelids and running her tongue over her full, glossy lips as if she was putting on a show and loving every minute of it. Nora felt a little guilty for her thoughts. Maybe she was being unkind to Bella on her wedding day and maybe the marriage would be a blessed one, but Nora could not help having her doubts.

The wedding reception was held at the Ram, a large public house nearby. The guests sat down to a lavish meal in a large first-floor room and George mumbled under his breath every time the feasting was interrupted by someone getting up to make a speech. Nora nudged him after one effeminate young man rose to his feet and showered praises on Bella and her successful run at the Collins Music Hall. 'P'raps yer should get up an' say a few words?' she suggested.

George shook his head vigorously. 'I'd 'ave ter be p.i.s.sed before I got up an' said anyfing,' he told her, tucking into his food.

Nora had been studying the various guests closely during the meal and had noticed the young woman sitting near Geoffrey who seemed to have eyes only for him. When the young man got up to read out the telegrams and give the customary toast to the bridesmaids, she sat with her chin resting in her hands, seemingly enraptured. He glanced constantly in her direction and Nora's sharp eyes read the silent messages that flashed between them. The woman looked older than Geoffrey and was dressed modestly. She was attractive with dark hair, and Nora became intrigued. Was that Geoffrey's lady friend, she wondered, the married woman he was seeing?

The wedding feast was over, and as the guests moved into an adjoining room for drinks a team of workers swiftly cleared away the tables. Musicians were gathering on a raised dais at one end of the large room and very soon they struck up with a waltz tune. Frank and Bella took the floor and led off the dancing. George stood watching the swirling figures with a large whisky in his hand and Nora stood at his side, her eyes still studying the group. They were mainly theatrical folk who laughed loudly and made exaggerated gestures. The women seemed to float sooner than walk, she thought, and the men stood in various stagey poses, their thumbs tucked in their waistcoat pockets as they guffawed together with little or no restraint. One or two of them were already becoming drunk and their laughter was getting louder. George looked as if he felt quite out of place and seemed determined to get drunk too, swallowing large draughts of Scotch whisky as if to drown his inhibitions.

More couples were dancing now as the pianist and the string quartet played a medley of popular dance tunes. Nora noticed that Geoffrey was dancing with his lady friend. Their bodies were close together and they were staring into each other's eyes. Bella looked as though she was having a serious conversation with one smart young man, while Frank was surrounded with a group of dandies at the far end of the room. While George wandered off somewhere Nora sat down on a soft window seat and sipped her port. She became aware of a young woman eyeing her up and down. Nora smiled briefly at her, but the woman looked away quickly. It was not long before George returned, strolling over to the window with an elderly man and woman. He was holding a full gla.s.s of Scotch and his face was flushed.

'Nora, this is Bella's muvver an' farvver,' he said in a slightly exaggerated voice.

Nora got up and shook hands with them and the woman took her arm and steered her to one side. The man took a sip from his drink and turned to George. 'Young Frank tells me you're in the cartage business,' he said with a pompous jerk of his head.

George took a swig from his gla.s.s and pulled a face as he swallowed a mouthful of whisky. 'That's right. What d'you do fer a livin'?' he asked, swaying slightly.

'I'm in banking,' Bella's father said. 'What exactly do you cart around?' he added quickly.

'Rum, skins, 'ops an' foodstuffs mainly,' he replied.

'Skins? Animal skins?'

''S'right. It's not the best sort o' contract,' George told him. 'The trouble wiv 'andlin' skins is the smell. Stink ter 'igh 'eaven they do, but the contract pays well.'

'Frank tells me that you've been thinking about buying some vehicles,' the banker said, raising an eyebrow.

'The boy's bin tryin' ter push me inter gettin' motors but I'm keepin' the nags,' George told him with resolve.

'Really? I would have thought there were good arguments for cartage firms to mechanise,' Bella's father commented. 'I understand there's a lot of freight up for the taking, the way the food firms are expanding. Then there's the dock freight as well.'

George swayed back on his heels and fixed the tall, thin banker with his bleary eyes. 'I've bin lookin' inter this business o' mechanisation,' he began. 'Yer pay out a tidy sum fer a lorry, then yer gotta pump it full o' petrol, an' that's not all. Yer put water in it, an' oil fer the engine. Then ter start it yer gotta crank the b.l.o.o.d.y fing, an' if yer ain't got yer magneto set prop'ly yer quite likely ter rupture yer b.l.o.o.d.y self. I've seen drivers tryin' ter start those motors on frosty mornin's. It's b.l.o.o.d.y nigh impossible.'

The banker raised his hand as he tried to get a word in. 'The latest vehicles are much improved, George,' he said quickly.

Galloway laughed derisively. 'Let me tell yer somefink. My carmen collect their 'orses from the stable first fing in the mornin', an' once they've got 'em in the sharves they're off. While the carman loads an' unloads the van the 'orse 'as the nose bag on, an' when the carman sees a water-trough on 'is route 'e lets the 'orse drink its fill. It's as simple as that. Yer can turn an 'orse-an'-cart round in any backstreet. Try doin' that wiv a lorry. I'll ter yer somefing else an' all. When it turns nasty an' the fog comes down like a blanket yer gotta leave the lorry where it stands. Yer don't 'ave ter wiv 'orses. Yer get yer wheels in the tramlines an' let the 'orse 'ave its 'ead. They can smell their own stable a mile off. Motors are unreliable. 'Orses'll work till they drop. So yer see, pal, I'm not in any 'urry ter mechanise.'

Bella's father had the sudden urge to mingle and George glanced over to Nora, but saw that she was in earnest conversation with Bella's mother. He walked unsteadily into the adjoining room and went up to the improvised bar counter. While his gla.s.s was being refilled, he looked around at the other wedding guests. A shapely woman in a fur stole was sitting near the window. When she caught his eye, she got up and came over to him.

'You're Mr Galloway, aren't you?' she said, smiling at him. 'I'm a friend of a friend of Bella's, and frankly I don't know what I'm doing here.'

'Well, I'm enjoyin' a good drink. I s'pose that's a good enough reason as any fer bein' 'ere,' he said, grinning lopsidedly.

The woman put down her empty gla.s.s and looked him over. 'I saw you talking to Bella's father a minute ago,' she remarked. 'I think he's a pompous old b.a.s.t.a.r.d, if you'll excuse the expression.'

George laughed loudly. 'Yer can say that again! The silly ole sod was on about me gettin' rid o' me 'orse-an'-carts an' goin' in fer motors. I told 'im, though.'