‘I hate them bloody things.’
‘So do I.’ Maura’s voice sounded small.
Soon the girls were eating their sandwiches and drinking weak tea. Neither of them mentioned what had taken place outside the school and neither of them would. From outside, the sounds of a game of cricket floated into the hot airless room. Finishing her tea, Maura got up to go. Margaret offered Maura her little finger with a shy smile. Maura linked it with her own, vowing that the two girls would be best friends for always - through thick and thin. This was the female way of becoming blood brothers - unlike the boys they did not cut each other’s thumbs.
Margaret walked Maura down the stairs to the street. ‘I’ll be here in the morning to walk to school. OK?’
Margaret nodded her head vigorously. ‘See you then, Maura.’
‘’Bye.’ Maura walked towards her own house. She felt lighthearted and gay. What had started out as a bad day had suddenly become brighter.
In the road a gang of boys with a makeshift cricket bat stopped their game to look at her. Already the news was travelling fast. Dinny O’Brien, one of Garry’s friends, smiled at her.
‘That right you podgered Margaret Lacey, Maws?’
She nodded, feeling herself blush.
‘We’re friends now, Dinny.’
He looked away, disgusted. Trust girls! In Dinny’s code, if you beat someone in a fight you made their life misery for as long as possible. You did not become friends with them.
Maura hurried home. As she let herself in at the front door her mother’s voice came booming out of the kitchen.
‘Is that you, Maura!’
‘Yes, Mum.’
She went into the kitchen where Sarah was standing, hands on hips, her face like thunder.
‘Where have you been, you bloody little sod? I’ve been out of my mind with worry about you.’
Maura chewed on her lip, staring at her mother. She very rarely got told off and when she did it upset her.
‘Well? Answer me, you little cow.’ Sarah’s face was haggard.
‘I went to me friend’s house and had a bit of tea.’ Her enormous blue eyes had tears glistening on their lashes. Sarah saw her daughter’s face crumple and her heart melted. Pulling the child into her arms, she hugged her close.
‘I’m sorry, love, but you gave me such a fright. It’s not like you to stay out like that. You’re normally the first one home. I was worried.’
‘I’m sorry, Mum, I won’t do it again, I promise,’ She tried to smile at her mother, genuinely sorry to have vexed her.
‘I sent Benny, Garry and Lee out looking for you.’ As if her words had conjured them up, all three burst into the kitchen.
‘Mum . . . Mum!’ They were all talking at once. ‘Have a guess what!’
‘One at a time . . . One at a time.’ She held up her hands for silence then pointed at Garry, the most honest of the three.
‘Right then, Garry, you tell me what happened.’
He pointed at Maura who was beginning to panic.
‘It’s her.’
‘What about her?’ Sarah looked at Maura, a frown on her face.
‘She’s been and gone and smashed Margaret Lacey’s face in!’
Sarah’s eyes widened. ‘She’s what!’
The tone of her voice frightened Maura. She pulled on her mother’s flowery apron.
‘I had to, Mum. She was gonna kill me ’cos Sister Rosario gave her the ruler for pulling me plaits.’ She looked into her mother’s face, pleading for understanding.
‘Am I hearing right? You . . .’ she pointed at Maura ‘. . . had a fight with Margaret Lacey.’ She screwed up her eyes as if she was having difficulty seeing her child.
Maura was gabbling with fright. ‘I hit her with me bag but we’re friends now, Mum. That’s where I was earlier when you were looking for me.’
Sarah shook her head slowly as if to clear it. So this one had gone too, another fighter in the family.
‘Go on, all of you . . . out in the street to play. Your dad will be in soon and I haven’t got a bit of food on.’ She pushed the children towards the kitchen door. She wanted them all away from her.
The three boys ran out. Maura stood for a second looking at her mother. ‘I’m sorry, Mum . . . honestly.’
Sarah’s voice was tired. ‘Get yourself outside, Maws. Go on now.’
When she had gone, Sarah poured herself out a large mug of thick black tea. She spooned four heaped spoonsful of sugar into it and some condensed milk and sat at the kitchen table. She sipped her tea and her body seemed to sag in the chair. Her mind was racing, though.
Leslie, aged twenty, was doing three years for robbery. Anthony, aged twenty-two, was with him, doing five years for robbery and malicious wounding. Michael was like the local Mafia, everyone was frightened of him. He now had all the older boys working for him. Over the years she had forced these thoughts from her mind, telling herself that her sons were the product of their father. And now this! Her only daughter, the apple of her eye, had been brawling in the street. It just wasn’t fair. Her mother used to say that what was bred in the bone came out in the blood, and she had been right.
Oh, Sarah had plenty of money these days and the house was lovely. After the lean years, she had been only too happy to take the money her sons thrust on her. She had never questioned where it came from, though she knew deep inside. But if their lifestyles affected her daughter, she would murder the lot of them. Maura was going to have the chances that she herself had never had. One of her children would achieve something in this world. She was determined on that.
Outside in the summer evening, Maura was the centre of attention.
‘Well done, Maws.’ This from Garry, who was very fond of his sister.
‘I hit her with me bag, that’s what done it.’
They all looked across the road as they heard their father call. Maura’s eyes lit up and she skipped across the road to meet him. Benjamin Ryan had had a skinful, that much was evident. He was flushed around his ample face and neck. Under one arm he had a large box of crisps and a bottle of Tizer. He passed the box to Lee who had followed Maura over the street and picked his daughter up in his arms. The old man, as they called him, worshipped his daughter and they all knew this and accepted it. In their own way they all felt the same. Maura rubbed her face against his cheek and felt his stubble scratching against her smooth skin. She breathed in his familiar odour of best bitter and Woodbines and snuggled against him, safe and secure.
‘How’s me best girl then?’
‘All right, Dad. Had a win?’
He laughed at her cheek.
‘How do you know I’ve had a win?’ He asked the question in a mock stern voice.
‘The box of crisps and Tizer for a start, and your beery breath.’
Benjamin looked at his sons, a theoretical scowl on his face. ‘Hear that, boys? Typical woman! She’ll drink the Tizer and eat the crisps, and still complain where they come from!’
Benny laughed with Maura, but Garry and Lee just smiled wanly. The memory of empty bellies because their father had gambled away all the National Assistance was still fresh in their minds. They all walked up the steps and into the house.
Sarah had started the evening meal. She completely ignored her husband until he fell asleep in his chair, whereupon she woke him up and berated him all the way up the stairs, their shouting and swearing affecting the children not one iota. Half an hour later they sat down to their tea. Maura was once more in high spirits. As they sat chatting around the table there was a loud knock on the front door. Garry answered it and came back into the kitchen with two policemen.
‘Go and wake your dad up.’ Sarah’s voice was heavy.
The elder of the two policemen smiled at Sarah but she dropped her eyes and tried to busy herself at the sink. Every nerve in her body was jangling. Every time the police visited her house she felt a heavy sickness inside her. Maura and Benny carried on eating.
Benjamin R
yan shuffled into the kitchen in his trousers and string vest, his braces hanging down the sides of his legs.
‘What the fuck do you want?’ His voice was menacing.
The older policeman looked at the children, a question in his eyes.
‘Never you mind them, they’ll hear what you got to say sooner or later. Now spit it out, man. I ain’t got all day.’
‘Very well. We’ve got some bad news for you, concerning your son Anthony.’
‘What about my Antney? Escaped, has he?’ Benjamin’s voice sounded hopeful.
‘No, not exactly. I’m sorry to tell you, Mr Ryan, that your son is dead.’
‘He’s what!’ Sarah’s hand went to her chest and she struggled to find breath. Lee went to her and folded her in his arms. The younger children were pale and silent.
‘He was stabbed to death this morning in Pentonville prison. In the showers. We’re doing everything possible to find the people responsible.’
Sarah’s sobbing was building to a crescendo. The younger policeman was watching her, fascinated.
‘Jesus H. Christ!’ Benjamin was trying to clear his drink-fuddled brain. ‘Who would want to kill my Antney? Everyone liked him . . .’
The younger policeman dragged his eyes from Sarah and looked at Benjamin.
‘Well, someone didn’t. You don’t stab your mates.’
Benjamin went for him. ‘Why, you dirty little bastard!’
The other officer intervened, all formality forgotten now.
‘Calm down, Benny. And you, Brown, shut your bloody big gob!’ He pushed Benjamin back against the kitchen wall. ‘Look, Ben, we’ve been questioning Leslie all morning and he won’t say a dicky bird, but we think he knows who done it.’
Benjamin pushed the man away. ‘Of course he won’t tell you. He ain’t a grass.’
‘Grass or no, Ben, this person has killed his brother.’
‘And that person will pay. Thanks for coming, Bill, but you can go now. I need to speak to me wife.’
His tone held dismissal and the two officers left the house. Benjamin pointed at Lee.
‘Go up West to Mickey’s and tell him what’s happened. Tell him, Geoffrey and Roy to get their arses home - now.’ Lee nodded. Still holding his mother, he walked her to his father. As Benjamin tried to comfort her, Sarah pushed him violently away.
‘Don’t you dare touch me! You’ve brought us to this, you conniving old bastard.’
Getting up from her seat, Maura ran to her mother. The two held on to each other tightly. Benjamin looked frightened by his wife’s attitude. The hatred in her voice had shocked him.
‘Garry, nip round and get the quack for your mother.’
The boy ran from the room, frightened. His mother’s wailing, following him down the front steps, seemed to spur him on. Maura, tears running down her face, was frightened out of her wits. Anthony was dead . . . her brother Anthony who had alternately teased and comforted her was lying somewhere dead, never to come home again. Fighting Margaret Lacey seemed so futile now. Why was it that bad things always happened when you were feeling happy?
The voices had been going on all evening. Maura could not sleep. She slipped out of bed, where her mother was snoring softly. The doctor had been in and given her some sleeping pills. He had tried to give her an injection but it had only made her more hysterical. Pulling the cover up over her mother’s shoulders, Maura crept from the room and down the stairs.
The front room door was slightly open and she pressed her face to the crack. Her eldest brother Mickey was walking up and down the room talking, his face set in a dark scowl. Maura loved Mickey. He was her favourite brother. She thought he was the handsomest of them all. All the boys were dark, with deep-set blue eyes, but Mickey was magnificent. He had something that attracted people to him - men as well as women. Maura adored him. He was like a god to her. Now, though, she was seeing a Mickey that she didn’t know. His teeth were gritted together and he had dark circles under his eyes. He looked ferocious.
‘I swear I’ll kill the bastards! So help me God, I’ll kill them.’
‘Calm down, Mickey. Calm down.’ This from Geoffrey.
‘Calm down, you say? When them bastards have stabbed our brother to death?’
Geoffrey took a long drink of his whisky.
‘Calm down and think clearly, that’s what I’m saying. Think with your head and not your heart.’
Michael stopped abruptly in his pacing and punched the wall.
‘I’d rather have given the bastards the cab ranks than see Antney dead.’
Geoffrey sighed.
‘Well, it’s done now, Bruv. What we’ve got to decide is how we retaliate.’
‘We’ll blow the fuckers off the face of the earth, that’s what we’ll do!’
‘I was thinking along those lines.’ Everyone in the room stared at Gerry Jackson, one of Mickey’s closest friends, and he coloured slightly.
‘What I thought was, right, they’ve got a rank in Ilford, ain’t they? In the High Street.’
All heads nodded in agreement.
‘Well, on Saturday night, Lee here and a few of his mates can go up the Ilford Palais, right? Later on in the evening they go into the Greek bastard’s cab rank, as for a cab to say . . . Wanstead. Anywhere, just so they can get a good look in. If he’s there, one of them can trot off and let us know, then we can poodle round and petrol bomb the place. We can sit round Green Lanes waiting for word. It must be someone they won’t recognise. That would teach the saucy gits a lesson.’
Mickey nodded his head.
‘Yeah, that sounds dawdy, Gerry, I’ll have some of that. Meantime, me and Geoff and Roy, who’ll be the main suspects, can be causing a disturbance somewhere else.’
‘Brilliant! That’s it then.’
Maura, listening to all this, was frightened. Her brothers were planning to blow someone up! She had heard people talk about her brothers. Tearaways and out of control, had become the prevalent opinion in Lancaster Road. Yet she realised that people were always nice to their faces, especially Mickey’s. A couple of Saturdays previously, she had walked with him along the Portobello Road. They had stopped to get some fruit for her, and the stall-holder had insisted that it was a gift, refusing Michael’s money as if it was the norm to give his produce away for free. Now she knew why people acted like they did. It was because her brothers blew people up.
She started to hop from one foot to the other. She was scared. Anthony was dead and her brothers were going to blow someone up. Suddenly, the door opened and Roy was standing in front of her.
She saw his face go pale.
‘What’s this then? Can’t you sleep, Princess?’ His voice was very loud. He picked her up and carried her into the front room. It was heavy with cigarette smoke and she coughed. Michael held out his arms to her and she shrank away from him, clinging to Roy. This Mickey frightened her. This was not her brother who cuddled her and bought her things . . . this was a man who blew people up. She looked fearfully into his face. He was so hurt by her attitude he was nearly in tears. With all that had happened with Anthony, he was near the end of his tether. Suddenly sensing this, Maura slipped out of Roy’s arms and ran to him, big dry sobs bursting from her throat and bouncing off the walls.
He scooped her up into his arms and holding her tightly, rubbed his face into her soft, sweet-smelling hair.
She cried hard, wracking sobs distorting her voice. ‘I want Antney to come home . . . I want Antney to come home! Blow the bad man up, Mickey. Blow the bad man up!’
He looked at the other men in the room, his eyes resting on his father. Through her tears Maura heard someone mutter, ‘Jesus Christ!’
Michael held her until her sobs subsided. Holding her away from him so he could look into her face, he spoke to her. His voice sounded worried.
‘Listen, Princess. You must never . . . ever . . . tell anyone what you heard here tonight. Do you understand what I’m saying? If you tell anyone, even a friend, then the
police will come and take us all away. Even Dad. Do you understand me?’
She nodded at him solemnly. ‘I won’t tell anyone, Mickey . . . not even Mum.’
Instinctively she knew that this was what he wanted to hear. He blinked and the relief in his eyes was evident. ‘Good girl. You’re a good girl. Now, let Dad put you back to bed.’ He kissed her on the forehead and lips tenderly, then placed her on the floor. ‘Good night, Princess.’
She took her father’s outstretched hand and began to walk from the room. At the door she looked back over her shoulder at Mickey, her face serene. In her white nightdress she looked like a golden angel. She opened her mouth and spoke.
‘I meant what I said, Mickey . . . get them that done in Antney.’ With that she carried on walking with her father. Benjamin looked at her sadly. His little girl was learning the realities of life. He just wished she could have been spared them a little longer.
On 20 July 1960 they buried Anthony Ryan. The funeral cortège went slowly past Wormwood Scrubs prison, up past the wagon works and on to Saint Mary’s Roman Catholic Cemetery at the top of Scrubs Lane. There were five cars from the funeral parlour following the coffin. Behind these were two dozen other cars containing friends and relatives. A police car containing Leslie, handcuffed but in his best suit, was last in the line.
In the first car Sarah sat dry-eyed, staring out at the passing roads. As they had passed by Du Cane Road, where the entrance to Wormwood Scrubs prison was, she had been reminded of how many times she had been there, visiting either her husband or one of the older boys. Her husband had been proud of how he had lived his life. ‘I’m a ducker and diver.’ How many times had she heard him tell someone that? Well, the result of his way of living was upon them today. Her lovely boy dead. She felt the hot tears bunch in her throat.