Bow Belles Read online

  His face still smarting, Alex growled, ‘He knows where you are, so do Kate and the children. They’ve known since the first night.’

  Florrie’s face stretched into lines of incredulity, then comprehension dawned, and with it came a rush of anger so fierce that her entire body began to shake violently. Drawing her lips back over her teeth, she ground out slowly, ‘You bastard! I see it all now. You’ve let them think I’ve walked out on them to live here with Percy… Haven’t you, you stinking bastard?’

  When her hand came out again, Alex was ready. Gripping her wrist, he glared down into her blazing green eyes, his fury matching her own. ‘And you’re a whore!’, he spat back viciously. ‘Who do you think is going to believe you’ve been lying under this roof for three days and nights without paying the landlord back in kind? Why was he so eager to take you in that night, if he didn’t know there would be something in it for him?’

  Their eyes remained locked in silent combat until Alex with a contemptuous grunt shoved Florrie away from him. With a startled gasp she fell back, her flimsy shift riding up over her thighs, showing an expanse of white flesh that sent Alex’s pulse and heart racing with desire.

  Breathing heavily, he walked to the door. ‘Maybe dad will believe you – God knows he’s gullible enough – but what about Kate? She won’t be so easy to convince, especially as she’s been round here every day and been refused entry to visit her “sick” mother.’ He gave a mirthless laugh. ‘Oh, no, Florrie, I’m afraid it won’t be so easy to go back home now. You’ve become the evil mother while dad is revelling in the role of the hard-done-by husband. You should see how they’re all running round after him trying to make up for their mother’s shortcomings!’

  Florrie sat on the side of the bed, covering her near-nakedness with the grimy sheet, her rage turning to bewilderment. ‘Why? Why have you done this to me? What did I ever do to make you hate me so much?’

  Alex paused by the open door, his hand on the wooden knob. How could he answer the question, when he didn’t know himself? Yes, dammit! Yes, he did know the reason, but even his mind refused to acknowledge the truth behind his actions. And the stark truth was that he wanted Florrie for himself and had done since reaching puberty, but even if she had shared his longing he wouldn’t have taken her. He wouldn’t have anything that his father had used. So his warped love had gradually turned to hatred, but so fierce had been his longing that he had been unable to leave the house and the woman who unknowingly tormented him night and day. Then Kate had begun to blossom into womanhood, and in her he saw Florrie reborn. Clean and untouched – and he was determined to have her one day, by any means possible.

  Not looking back, he ran down the stairs, knocking a startled Percy, who was on his way up with a tray of mugs of hot tea, to one side. Once out in the cold, darkened street, Alex stood for a few moments, his mind racing. Pulling up the wide collar of his overcoat, he sank his neck further into its warmth, his rampaging thoughts darting this way and that for a way out of his problems. Stamping his feet, he leant back against the flaky brick wall of the pub, his rapid breathing sending out plumes of grey mist into the freezing morning air.

  He would be late for work if he didn’t hurry, not that that worried him unduly. To all extent and purposes he was the real gaffer in his section of the docks, and the man who officially held the title of foreman was too scared of Alex to risk upbraiding him for his tardiness. He smiled grimly as he brought to mind a picture of his gaffer, a stockily built, middle-aged man who was merely a figurehead among the dockers he commanded. A man who knew all about the pilfering from the ships that docked and studiously turned a blind eye to the goings-on in order to keep on good terms with his men. He was much like his father; a man who desperately sought and craved respect, putting on an act of someone of importance and ignoring the contemptuous sniggers in order to hang on to the last shreds of dignity and self-esteem.

  Alex remembered vividly his father’s reaction upon learning that his son and heir was planning to become a dock worker. He had imagined his eldest child would put his education and upbringing to a better purpose. And that was one of the main reasons why Alex had chosen his rough profession: to antagonise and upset the man he had grown to despise. Then he had found he was more at home with the rougher element of men than he had ever been in the company of his father’s friends, few though they were. The dockers of the East End might not have the social graces and refined voices of the middle classes, but neither did they suffer from any form of affectation or pretentiousness. Even now, after almost eight years, William still refused to acknowledge publicly his son’s occupation; an occupation that irked and shamed him deeply – which had been Alex’s intention all along.

  A spasm of pain flittered across Alex’s face. He hadn’t always felt like this. There was a time when he had adored his father; especially after his mother had died. Then there had been just the two of them against the world. They had spent every spare minute together, laughing, playing, being friends instead of father and son. Then Florrie had come on the scene, within a few months they were married, and he, Alex, was packed off to boarding school. Packed off like some unwanted article that had served its purpose and was now no longer needed. The hurt he had buried for so long rose swiftly in his chest, surprising him by the pain the memory caused, then he shook his head fiercely. This was no time for maudlin recollections of the past. That time had gone for ever. It had vanished the day Florrie had entered their lives, and now it seemed she was about to ruin his life again.

  Two men ambled towards him, their furtive gait sending warning bells ringing, and instantly Alex was on his guard. Removing his hands from his voluminous coat pockets, he stood ready.

  ‘Got the time, Guv?’ The taller of the men moved nearer, then stopped, suddenly wary, his experienced eyes noting the aggressive stance of the intended victim and his total lack of fear.

  ‘Don’t even think about it, chum,’ Alex said, his voice low and menacing.

  The man stepped back hastily, followed quickly by his companion. Then with a muttered oath they sauntered on, stopping by the mouth of a nearby alley to await a more susceptible victim.

  Alex kept his eyes on them for a few moments, then shrugged, dismissing them from his thoughts. He knew their kind. They only preyed on the weak … His body stiffened as the idea came insidiously creeping up into his mind. No… No, not that! There must be a better way. Deeply troubled, he paced the cobbled pavement restlessly, his gaze moving involuntarily to the softly lit upstairs window of the pub. Behind the pulled curtains he could see a silhouette moving back and forth and knew it was Florrie. He ground his teeth in frustration. Once she got home and told the family the truth of the last few days and his part in the deception, his world as he knew it would be blown apart.

  Damn the woman! Why couldn’t she have just gone? Why was she forcing him to… Again he shied away from the monstrous scheme that had come unbidden to his fevered brain. Then he remembered the past, and lazy weekends and holidays and a beautiful woman holding his small hand as she led him carefully across busy roads. Other memories came flooding back. Memories of days in the park and on the boating lake, just the two of them, when his father was busy at work. Then the scene changed to the evenings of his childhood at home. He was sitting at the large dining table, clumsily holding a handful of cards, his forehead creased in youthful concentration as he studied the hand he held while the fair-haired lady smiled encouragingly at his earnest attempts to play poker… Stop it… Stop it! he cried silently. I can’t let her go home, I can’t. She’ll destroy me if I let her. And where would I go? I don’t want to be on my own… I need… I need!

  The turmoil raged as his conscience, that part of him that still retained some vestige of good, battled with his darker side. He had known for years there was a badness in him bordering on evil, and had fought against being sucked down into the murky regions that dwelt in all minds. But it was no use. He had too much to lose if he faltered now. Still the
inner struggle continued until a vision of Kate rose before his eyes. For a split second he teetered on the brink of reason and good, then the curtain of evil fell, stripping away the final shreds of decency, and as the metamorphosis took hold of him, so too vanished his last chance of redemption.

  As if awaking from a long sleep he shook himself savagely, angry to have hesitated for so long. What was he thinking of! The lamplighter would be along soon, so too would other men like himself who had early jobs to go to. He mustn’t waste any more time. With purposeful strides he caught up with the two men who had tried to accost him – men willing to earn a few shillings without asking awkward questions. As Alex outlined his orders to the bedraggled, stinking creatures, their dirt-streaked faces creased into lines of pure glee before they hurried back into the dark alley to await their victim.

  Satisfied that he need have no further worry about his stepmother interfering in his life, Alex strode off in the direction of Roman Road, where he could catch an early horse-bus that would take him within reasonable walking distance of the docks.

  * * *

  Florrie washed and dressed with feverish haste, her pains forgotten in her desperate desire to reach her home and family. She was still severely shaken by the discovery of her stepson’s consuming hatred of her and the lengths he had gone to get her out of the way. But there was one thing his twisted mind had overlooked. That was the fact that her children loved her and would welcome her back, no matter what lies they had been fed by that evil tongue. She was also surprised to find that all rancour towards her husband had vanished. She had experienced a severe fright when faced with the prospect of losing all she held dear. So what if she didn’t love her husband; how many wives did?

  Suddenly all the arguments and her resentment towards William seemed insignificant. She would forget the past and do what the majority of women did: she would make the best of a bad marriage for the sake of the children. There would be time enough to think of herself when her children no longer needed her. But they needed her now, and she wouldn’t fail them, not again. Shivering in the cold morning air she hurried along the pavement, the desire to reach the comfort and security of her home driving out all other thoughts.

  When she turned and saw the two silent figures creeping out of the alley behind her, she felt a moment’s apprehension before dismissing them; that was her gravest mistake. With a speed that belied their shambling appearances they grabbed her, a filthy hand clamping down over her open mouth to stifle her screams. Kicking and jerking, she fought to escape the men’s brutal arms as they carried her deeper into the pitch-black alley and threw her down. Thinking them to be thieves after her purse, she attempted to plead with them, before realising with abject horror the full extent of their purpose. With brute force one of the men pulled her skirt and petticoats up over her face while his companion held the garments in place over her mouth. Almost choking, Florrie jerked wildly in an attempt to escape, even though her mind told her it was useless. When the stinking body forced itself into her she screamed silently and futilely, but even when this man had finished with her, her ordeal was far from over. Immediately the men changed places and again her body was subjected to a violent onslaught that was eased only long enough for the first man to begin again. When they finally tired, the sun was beginning to rise, but still the horror wasn’t over. Through the ravaged pain of her body, she heard the men laughing and dimly heard a distant voice.

  ‘It seems a shame ter mark ’er. I wouldn’t mind takin’ ’er ’ome and giving ’er anuvver go later when I gets me strength back.’

  ‘Yeah, I can just see yer missus standing for that! Though, from wot I’ve ’eard, she might like a go at ’er ’erself.’

  More raucous laughter followed this remark before they fell silent contemplating the orders they had been given by the hard-faced stranger. Normally they would have taken their sport and money and left it at that, but there had been something about the man that made them hesitate. They both felt sure he would come after them if they failed to carry out his instructions to the letter.

  Florrie heard them coming back, and weakly tried to lift her head. ‘Please… Please d—don’t hurt me any more… p—please!’ In the gloom of the alley she saw the taller of the men shake his head.

  ‘Sorry, darlin’, we’ve got our orders.’ Then his boot came out, savagely catching her on the side of her head before moving down to the soft exposed flesh of her bruised body. She jerked violently as the heavy boot remorselessly kicked and trampled her defenceless form. Dimly she felt a searing pain down the side of her face and neck. By the time they had finished, she had long since slipped into merciful oblivion, her last conscious thought of her children and the grief her death would bring them.

  * * *

  Kate was waiting when he arrived home, her face twisted in anguish and fear.

  ‘She’s gone, Alex. She’s gone!’ Kate babbled frantically. ‘I went round to the pub… and… and the landlord let me look upstairs. And she’s gone, and he – the landlord I mean – he says he doesn’t know where she is. But he said you were there this morning talking to her… He said she left just after you did. What did you say to her, Alex? What on earth did you say?’

  Alex had been expecting the confrontation, and was ready. Draping his coat over the back of a chair, he shook his head sorrowfully. ‘Where’s dad and the children?’ He indicated the empty room.

  Stamping her foot impatiently, Kate shouted, ‘The children are next door with Mrs Morris. They’re in a terrible state, especially Billy. And dad’s gone down to the police station to report her missing. You were the last person with her, so why didn’t you tell me you were going to see her? What’s going on, Alex? What the hell have you been up to?’

  He came across the room and took her hands tenderly. ‘Oh, Kate, I’m so sorry. I know I should have told you I was planning to go round to the pub, but I didn’t want to get your hopes up. Look, Kate…’ He hesitated as if loath to speak, while all the time he wanted to shout, to laugh, to throw his hands in the air with glee. ‘I know the landlord told you your mum was ill, but she wasn’t ill, Kate, she just didn’t want to see you. No… No, listen to me,’ His voice rose as Kate tried to pull away. ‘You have to face the truth. She’s gone, and she isn’t coming back. I tried to talk some sense into her, but she wouldn’t listen… Kate, oh, Kate…’

  When his arms came round her waist, Kate remained impassive, her face set. Her mum would never leave them, not like this. There was something wrong here; something terribly, frighteningly, wrong.

  Unaware of her thoughts, Alex raised a gentle hand to her head and began to stroke her hair soothingly. He was surprised his dad had gone to the police; he hadn’t thought him capable of rousing himself into any form of action. But it didn’t matter. He had paid the men well to take her somewhere far away and dump her. And if they’d done their job well, when she was found, no one would be able to recognise her or trace her back to Bow. Smiling happily, he continued to stroke Kate’s fair hair.

  ‘It’s all right, Kate, it’s all right. There’s nothing for you to worry about. No matter what happens, you’ll always have me to look after you… You’ll always have me.’

  Chapter Five

  One bright morning in 1899, Kate Browning woke to the sounds of birds singing, and a watery but bright March sun spread its warmth across the pillow where her head rested next to six-year-old Billy’s. She lay still for a few tranquil moments, listening to the chirping of the sparrows that nestled in the large oak in the street outside before reluctantly easing herself from the bed. Quietly, so as not to disturb her sleeping brother and sisters, she poured some water into a bowl, lathered up a small bar of soap and washed quickly. When she was dressed, she shook Alice’s shoulder gently but firmly and waited for the fourteen-year-old girl to awake. Keeping her voice low, she ignored the groggy girl’s protests at being woken so early and gave her sister her instructions for the day, repeating them twice before allowing Alice to go ba
ck to sleep. Carefully opening the door, she listened to Alex moving around downstairs, but not until the front door banged did she venture from her room.

  Knowing Alex would probably catch the seven o’clock tram, she loitered long enough to eat a slice of toast and drink a mug of tea before leaving the house. She was half-way down Burdett Road when the tram passed her, making her sigh with relief. Knowing her brother must be on it, and therefore out of her way, she went to the stop to wait for the next one. Within ten minutes she was sitting on a crowded long wood-slatted bench on top of the horse-drawn vehicle, her face pensive at the task she had set herself.

  It was nearly eighteen months since her mother had disappeared, and not a day had gone by that Kate hadn’t tried to find her. And with each disappointment, every crushing negative shake of the head from strangers looking at the photo of Florrie that Kate carried everywhere with her, she became more determined to find her mother, refusing to be beaten, even though it seemed that after all this time she was the only one left who cared about Florence Browning’s whereabouts.

  When the conductor came to collect fares, Kate pulled the photograph from her purse, the hopeful question coming automatically to her lips, then gave a resigned shrug of her shoulders as he shook his head. Eager to help, he took the photograph with him as he collected the fares, returning it some minutes later with another sorrowful shake of his head. It was no more than Kate had expected, and with a bright smile she thanked him warmly before returning the photo to her purse.

  The man on her left shifted his body, rubbing his leg against hers while innocently staring ahead. ‘Do you mind?’ she said icily, her words accompanied by a sharp dig in the startled man’s side. The leg was swiftly removed. Directing another warning glare at the side of the man’s downcast face, Kate tightened the wide blue ribbon of her straw bonnet more firmly under her chin. Satisfied that the man wouldn’t give her any more trouble, she allowed her mind to recall the past eighteen months.