Part 34 (1/2)

'All right, Mrs Axley ...'

'Axford.'

'All right, Mrs Axford, I'll give you the key, but you must promise me you'll give it to Mrs Tanner immediately,' the young man said firmly.

'Cross me 'eart an' 'ope ter die,' Florrie said with mock reverence.

The young man pa.s.sed over the key with a flourish and Florrie smiled at him.

'I fink yer a very nice man after all,' she said graciously, 'an' I shall tell the manager so, soon's I see 'im.'

There was one more little lie to tell, Florrie thought as she walked quickly back to Page Street. The church clock showed five minutes to nine when she walked in the turning and knocked at Nellie's front door once more.

'Sorry ter trouble yer, luv, but the man from the estate office knocked at my door by mistake an' I told 'im I'd pa.s.s the message on,' she said. ''E said ter tell yer not to worry about callin' in the office fer the key, as 'e's gotta go ter the buildin's ter do some inspectin' an' 'e'll leave it wiv the porter. All right, luv?'

'Well, that's a journey saved, Flo,' Nellie replied. 'Got time fer a cuppa?'

Normally Florrie would have accepted but she had visions of women marching up and down Bacon Street with brooms and mops over their shoulders. 'No fanks, Nell,' she said quickly. 'I've gotta get over uncle's right away before 'e 'as a chance ter put that ring o' mine in the winder. The bleedin' pledge was up yesterday, an' yer know what ole Beckford's like. 'Is a.r.s.e is always makin' b.u.t.tons.'

Florrie hurried along the street and turned left at the end. The gloomy building loomed up large and forbidding against the tidy little houses. Her friends were gathered together with folded arms outside the first block.

'Right then, up we go,' Florrie said, leading the way up a long flight of rickety wooden stairs. The walls were shedding plaster and there was a large sooty mark around the bare gas jet. The first narrow landing led along from the head of the stairs to another similar flight. On the second landing Florrie stopped to catch her breath. 'C'mon, gels, one more flight,' she said encouragingly to her friends as they followed, puffing with exertion.

There were four flats on the landing and Florrie went to the door directly at the head of the stairs and inserted the key.

'Good Gawd! Look at the state of it,' Sadie exclaimed as she went inside. 'We're gonna 'ave our work cut out 'ere.'

'It looks like it's bin used as a bleedin' stable,' Aggie remarked.

'It smells like a bleedin' stable,' Maisie cut in.

'Open that b.l.o.o.d.y winder, fer Gawd's sake,' Florrie commanded.

The two bedrooms proved to be even more filthy, and when Florrie looked into the tiny scullery which led directly from the front room, she shook her head sadly.

'I thought our places were bad enough but compared ter this they're bleedin' palaces,' she murmured.

Beneath the scullery window there was a small sink and a copper. Facing the sink was an iron gas-stove which was caked in grease, and beyond the stove a door leading to the toilet.

'D'yer realise yer could sit on the pan an' cook a meal at the same time,' Maggie remarked. 'I reckin it's b.l.o.o.d.y disgustin'.'

'Well, c'mon then, let's get started,' Florrie said bravely, filling a galvanised pail and putting it on the gas-stove to heat up.

The women set to work. Maisie cleaned the windows, Maggie cleared out the hearth and blackleaded the grate, and Sadie started scrubbing the bare floorboards. Florrie rolled up her sleeves and tackled the filthy gas-stove, while Maudie pottered about with a wet cloth around the woodwork.

Ida Bromsgrove realised that her bright idea had given everyone a mammoth task as she got down on her knees and helped Sadie with the scrubbing. 'D'yer remember the time we all went on that outin' an' Nellie brought us all 'ome after ole Soapy Symonds got p.i.s.sed?' she said with a chuckle.

Sadie leant back on her heels and ran her hands across her forehead. 'Do I! Remember those pair o' toffee-nosed ole cows I nearly set about, Ida?' she laughed.

Ida jerked her thumb in the direction of Aggie who was busy with a toilet-brush. 'Remember when we all lifted 'er in the cart an' she was frightened we was gonna drop 'er? What a day that was,' she said, grinning.

Suddenly there was a loud banging on the front door. Maudie looked worried as she hurried over to open it and was confronted by a large, middle-aged man with a walrus moustache.

'What you lot doin' in 'ere?' he demanded.

'We're doin' a bit o' cleanin' fer Nellie,' Maudie said meekly.

'Oh, is that so?' the man said haughtily. 'Well, I'm Mr Pudsey the porter an' I'm in charge o' this 'ere buildin'.'

'Please ter meet yer, Mr Pudsey, I'm sure,' Maudie replied.

The porter hooked his hands through his braces and glared around at the women. 'Yer'll 'ave ter leave,' he said in a loud voice. 'Yer should 'ave come an' seen me before yer decided to stroll into the flat.'

Sadie got up and made for the door with a malevolent look in her eye but Florrie beat her to it.

'I'm Florrie Axford an' I'm in charge o' this lot, so anyfing yer got ter say yer can say ter me,' she told him firmly.

'Yer'll 'ave ter leave is what I'm sayin',' the porter said, eyeing her warily.

'Oh, that's what yer sayin', is it?' Sadie growled over Florrie's shoulder. 'Well, yer can p.i.s.s off orf out of it. We're cleanin' up this pigsty an' that's that.'

The porter knew all about the Sullivans and he stepped back a pace. 'I've got me job ter do, missus,' he said in a less commanding voice.

'Yeah? An' we've got our job ter do, so why don't yer leave us ter get on wiv it?' Sadie berated him.

Florrie had often found herself acting as the leader not least because of her guile and cunning, and on this particular Friday morning she was not found lacking. 'All right, Sadie, jus' get on wiv yer scrubbin',' she said quietly. 'Me an' the buildin's manager are goin' ter 'ave a little chat.'

Albert Pudsey had been called a few names in his time by the tenants of Bacon Street Buildings but never a 'manager'. He brushed his hand across his bushy moustache as Florrie slipped out on to the landing and pulled the door half closed behind her.

'I've often seen yer pa.s.s me winder an' I never knew yer was the manager o' these buildin's, Mr Pudsey,' she remarked. 'I was only sayin' ter Mrs Dougall the ovver day, ”Maisie,” I ses, ”who's that big fella walkin' up the street?” An' Maisie ses ter me, ”Yer know, Flo, I fink 'e's a copper, one o' them plainclothes coppers.” 'Ave yer ever bin in the police, Mr Pudsey?'

The porter shook his head. 'Nah. I used ter be on the roads, before I got this job,' he said, throwing out his chest.

'A commercial traveller?'

'Nah, I used ter dig 'em up,' he told her.

'What, the roads?' she asked innocently.

The porter was not sure whether the woman was making fun of him or whether she was just tuppence short of a s.h.i.+lling. He backed away. 'Look, I've got me rounds ter do,' he said. 'Don't ferget ter make sure that door's shut when yer leave.'

Florrie gave him a big smile. 'All right, Mr Pudsey. Jus' leave it ter Auntie Flo. Oh, by the way, the manager at the office said you'd 'ave ter see Mrs Tanner in, so I'd better drop the key through yer letterbox. She should be 'ere about five o'clock.'

Later that morning the porter watched the band of weary women marching away and shook his head slowly. 'It's gettin' b.l.o.o.d.y worse round 'ere,' he muttered.

The following Monday morning Carrie arrived at Fred Bradley's and took her place behind the counter. All day the usual comings and goings went on, and as she served the teas and coffees, took the food orders and tidied the tables, Carrie's mind was racing. She had decided what she was going to do now and there could be no turning back. It was a decision born of desperation but her inner feelings told her that it was the right one, the only one. She would have to be bold and straightforward. There must be no misunderstanding.