East End Angel. Kay Brellend

February 1936

      ‘Have you killed her?’

      ‘Don’t care if I have,’ the big man growled. ‘The slag deserves to be six feet under for what she’s done.’

      ‘What could she have done to deserve this?’ the young woman bellowed.

      Kathy Finch weighed seven and a half stone and stood five foot three in her shoes, but she was trying to wrestle the brute away from the prone bloodied body of his young wife. He swatted her aside as easily as he would an irritating moth.

      Kathy regained her breath and balance, then launched herself at the stevedore again. This time when she grabbed his hairy forearm he allowed her to pull him back, having delivered a final lazy stamp to the figure on the floor.

      Ruby Potter had curled into a foetal position in a vain attempt to protect herself and her unborn baby from her husband’s boots. But whereas moments ago she had been gamely fighting back – punching and slapping at his thick shins – now she was motionless, her face fallen away to the wall.

      Satisfied with the punishment he’d inflicted, Charlie Potter sauntered off to get his donkey jacket from a filthy armchair. The child sitting on it barely flinched as the coat was whipped from under her.

      ‘I think you know right enough what she’s done, miss,’ Charlie finally answered Kathy. ‘Don’t come the innocent with me. Ruby talks to you about all sorts of stuff. I’ve heard her.’

      ‘She talks to me ’cos I’m her midwife!’ Kathy yelled. She’d dropped down beside Ruby and was feeling her limp wrist for a pulse. She swivelled on her knees, aware that at any time the vicious bastard could again let loose his temper and she might be on the receiving end. She felt ire well up inside. She’d go down fighting, like Ruby had.

      She’d no idea what had led up to this beating, having arrived after it had started. At the sound of the blood-curdling commotion, she had raced down the passageway and burst into the room, but by then her patient was already on her knees. The punch she’d seen Charlie deliver had looked savage enough to fell a horse. It had certainly put Ruby out like a light.

      Kathy’s eyes slewed to the chalk-faced child sucking her thumb and watching everything with unblinking intensity. She knew she herself was relatively safe, but a maniac such as Potter, who believed his family were his chattels to do with as he liked, wouldn’t think twice about laying into his small daughter if he thought she was being insolent.

      ‘You’d better get out of here! I’m warning you … I’m calling for an ambulance and then I’m getting the police.’ Kathy’s fear was subdued by fury.

      Charlie Potter swooped on Kathy, pinching her chin between his calloused fingers. Her neck strained as he hauled her up using just those remorseless digits until she was on her feet and gritting her teeth in agony. When standing in front of him she tried to jerk back from his leery gaze but the pain increased so she settled for despising him with china-blue eyes.

      ‘If she’s a goner, I’ve got friends who’ll say I was with them. I’ve got other friends who’ll turn things bad fer you.’ He patted her cap and gave her a tobacco-stained grin, making her recoil from his stinking breath. ‘Just ’cos you’re friendly with the coppers don’t mean nuthin’. My friends have got mates in the constabulary ’n’ all, if you get my drift. So you think on, miss. You’ve been about long enough now to know how we do things round here.’ His crafty eyes slipped over her slender figure beneath her gabardine mac. ‘We don’t need you comin’ round, interfering. I’ve told you that before. Ruby’s got all the help she needs with friends ’n’ family.’

      ‘Leave her be!’ The weak command came from behind and Kathy spun around so quickly and violently that Charlie’s fingernails scored her skin.

      ‘Are you all right?’ Kathy crouched, her roving hand immediately testing Ruby Potter’s distended belly. A tiny undulation beneath her fingertips made her whisper a relieved prayer. She turned to glare at the thug behind. There was no flicker of remorse or thankfulness at this sign that his beating hadn’t proved fatal. He simply scowled, pointing a menacing finger at his battered wife that promised more was to come. A moment later, he swaggered out of the room.

      ‘Help me up, will you, Miss Finch?’ Ruby asked wearily once she’d heard the front door crash shut.

      ‘You stay there. I’m just going out to call an ambulance for you, Mrs Potter,’ Kathy blurted.

      ‘No! Don’t do that. It’ll just make things worse if busybodies get to hear what’s gone on.’

      ‘But … your face needs stitching,’ Kathy said gently, not wanting to upset the woman. The gash on her cheek was sure to leave a nasty scar if left unattended. Ruby looked a dreadful state, and the shame of it was that she’d probably been quite a pretty woman in her time. Kathy glanced at her patient’s tangled dark brown hair and pallid complexion. From Ruby Potter’s medical notes, Kathy had gleaned that the woman was only six years older than herself. Had she not read her age as twenty-six she’d have guessed her to be in her mid-thirties.

      The child jumped down from her seat now she knew the coast was clear. As Kathy gripped under Ruby’s arms and strained to lift her, little Pansy shoved her mother on the posterior, trying to do her bit to help.

      There was an iron bed set against one wall and, settling Ruby on the edge of the grimy mattress, Kathy gently tilted her chin to get a better look at the damage Charlie had inflicted. ‘You should get yourself seen to at the hospital,’ she urged.

      ‘Can’t you do it, miss?’ Ruby pleaded.

      ‘I can’t stitch you up.’ Kathy had guessed that might come. She was a qualified nurse, but had not been trained to close wounds.

      Kathy did her rounds in this poverty-riddled quarter of London, where slum conditions and rough people made the job unpredictable. But she was determined to continue in her vocation, no matter how unpleasant it was at times. For every vile brute like Charlie Potter there were twice as many salts of the earth around Whitechapel who were terribly grateful for the work she did.

      ‘Don’t care how it looks. Just don’t want no germs getting in. I’d be grateful if you’d do what you can.’ Ruby attempted a smile but it simply made blood leak again from the corner of her mouth. ‘Don’t want to get you into no trouble, of course, Nurse Finch,’ she mumbled, lifting a corner of her pinafore to dab her face.

      Kathy shook her head to herself, delving into her nurse’s bag to find something with which to clean up her patient. ‘I don’t carry any equipment for stitches … sorry …’ Kathy knew if she did she’d probably flout rules and risk her job for Ruby Potter’s sake. As she looked at the pathetic spectacle sitting with hunched shoulders on the bed, she felt tempted to run after Charlie Potter and let fly with her fists, even though she knew it would make her no better than he.

      ‘Make Nurse a cup of tea, Pansy.’ Ruby’s fat lips made the words sound slurred, as did the muffling edge of the pinafore she was again pressing to her face to stanch the bleeding.

      The little girl shook the dented kettle and, satisfied it had water in it, set it on the hob grate, then squatted down in front of the fire to wait for it to boil.

      ‘Probably got no bloody milk. Suppose that selfish git’s used it all in his tea,’ Ruby muttered. ‘Christ, me head aches …’ She clutched at her forehead and closed her eyes.

      Pansy jumped up and found a milk bottle. She swung it to and fro to let her mother see there was a little bit sploshing about at the bottom.

      Kathy wetted some lint under the tap and dabbed it on Ruby’s face, rinsing and repeating the process. She drew from her bag a clean piece of wadding.

      ‘Suppose you’re wondering what set him off this time,’ Ruby mumbled.

      ‘Your husband seems to think I know all about it. He thinks you confide in me.’ Kathy’s clear blue gaze drifted from the split cheek she was tending to Ruby’s brown