Rough Justice by Gilda O'Neill Page A

had to calm the situation; the last thing she wanted was a feud with the Flanagans. Stephen and George had the reputation of behaving like a pair of lunatics when they got going, and Lily wasn’t a lot better. That was what happened when there was no mother to keep the pot from boiling over.
    Nell shook her head. ‘No thank you, Mrs Lovell.’ She knew Stephen’s views on women who wasted their time drinking tea with the neighbours; she didn’t even let him know that Sylvia came by regularly.
    ‘As you like, love, but I told you before, you’re to call me Mary, all right?’
    ‘Yes, thank you, Mary.’
    George gave Martin a half-hearted shove in the chest and propped himself up on one elbow. ‘Call me bleed’n’ Mary? And a nice cup of tea? Is that all you’ve got to say for yourself? Your son’s just split my nose open.’
    Joe Lovell frowned and pulled his chin tight into his chest. ‘What, our little sixteen-year-old lad did that to you? The one who’s not even a fully grown man yet?’
    ‘What does it matter how old he is? Look at thestate of me.’ George examined the blood on the back of his hand. ‘Tell you what, I’ve got a mind to call the law.’
    Joe snorted. ‘And make you and your family a laughing stock?’
    The door to Number 56 opened – up until then the only closed door of the three on the landing – to reveal Ada Tanner in all her morning glory: hand-knitted cardigan over an ankle-length winceyette nightgown and her head bristling with the vicious-looking metal grips that she firmly believed coaxed her hair into film-star waves.
    ‘Who’s a laughing stock?’ she demanded. Never knowingly pleasant, was Ada. ‘What have I missed then?’
    Mary Lovell closed her eyes. Ada Tanner, just what they needed to add too much salt to the stew. ‘Nothing, Ada. Nothing at all. So why don’t you go back inside in the warm? It’s not even seven o’clock and it’s freezing out here. You’ll catch your death.’
    ‘With a bit of luck,’ mumbled George.
    Ada wasn’t drawn, being too busy looking from one face to another, trying to sort out the playing order of whatever it was that had occurred in her absence.
    She paused on Nell. ‘Well, I might have known she’d be involved in whatever it was.’ She waggled a thumb at Number 55. ‘I’ve not heard anything but shouting and hollering from in there these past two months. And you can’t tellme it’s a coincidence that it was then that he moved her in there with him. Trollop, look at her, not even a ring on her finger.’
    Nell shrivelled back against the wall.
    Joe nodded at his son. ‘Go on, Martin. Do as your mother says, or you’ll be late.’
    ‘Yeah, you’d better get off to work like your mother tells you, Martin,’ chipped in Ada, her voice dripping with sarcasm as she turned her attention away from Nell. ‘And your mother had better not hang around too long either, or who’ll bring in your father’s beer money?’
    ‘Take no notice of her, Joe,’ said Mary, stretching over George so she could kiss her husband on the cheek. ‘She thinks all men are like her Albert. Still in bed is he, Ada? Resting while he waits for your granddaughter to bring round the family “contribution”?’
    George scrambled to his feet. ‘Hang about, you lot. I don’t give a shit about whose husband does what. Why’s nobody worried about me? That scraggy little bastard just assaulted me.’
    ‘Makes a change from the Flanagans using their fists,’ said Martin, moving menacingly closer to George.
    ‘Leave off, you two,’ Mary said, concentrating on pulling her gloves back on. ‘If you’re sure you don’t want a cup of tea, dear, me and Martin will be on our way.’
    George stabbed a finger at Martin. ‘You’ve done it now, Lovell. You just wait till I tell my dad what you’ve done.’
    ‘Tell your dad?’ Joe shook his head. ‘How old are you, George?’
    Mary tutted impatiently. ‘Please, grow up all of you. And you, Nell,’ she