Farewell To The East End

confusion and turned scarlet.
    ‘Where are your clothes?’ he spluttered in a prim Scottish accent. I don’t suppose he meant to sound pompous and priggish, but he did.
    It was a fair question, too. Where indeed were her clothes? They were scattered around the place, trodden by the crowd into the puddles. She advanced on the confused young man and with each hand lifted a huge, pendulous breast, waving her nipples in his face.
    ‘Your guess is as good as mine, dearie.’
    With a cry of alarm the young policeman leaped away. None of his colleagues was going to help him out; the scene was too good to miss. He knew he was beaten, so he grabbed a spare blanket that was lying on the ground and gave it to his tormentor.
    ‘In the name of Heaven, woman, cover your nakedness,’ he appealed to her in desperation. The other men fell about laughing. But things were getting out of hand, and the dignity of the Law had to be preserved. An older officer stepped forward.
    ‘We are not going to charge you,’ he said. ‘Go to your flat, but I want your name and flat number.’
    She turned sullen again. Her moment of exhibitionism over, she reluctantly gave her details.
    ‘Now off you go, and don’t let’s have any more of this, or you’ll be in real trouble. This is a caution.’
    Then he turned to his men.
    ‘Now all of you, back to your duties. You two stay here with the nurse and the injured woman. Report back if you need help.’
    They left, suppressing their mirth and as they walked away I could hear voices saying, ‘Coverr yourr nakedness, woman!’ The young Scot bit his lip and looked to be on the verge of tears. He wouldn’t live this moment down and he knew it.
    The injured woman was sitting on the wet ground throughout this scene. As the other left, she screamed out, ‘Look at ’er, the filthy slut. She’s always like that, throwin ’erself around. She’s no be’er than a whore. Trollop! Filth! Garbage!’
    She screamed the words at the retreating figure, who made to come back and attack her again, but the second policeman barred the way.
    ‘Now get off!’ he said. ‘If there’s any more trouble you will be charged.’
    Finally she left. The injured woman had obviously got her verbal energy back, but I was concerned about her head, having seen and heard several terrible blows as it was banged against the stones. She could easily have sustained a fracture and needed medical treatment.
    I said, ‘We’ve got to get her to hospital for an X-ray.’
    ‘Nah! Nah!’ she cried; ‘I won’ go to no ’ospital. Yer can’t make me. I’ll be all right. Jes leave me alone.’
    We couldn’t possibly just leave her there in the rain, so we agreed that we would take her back to her flat and then depart. She was still shaky and weak. She pulled the blanket around her, shivering. The young Scot was very kind.
    ‘You can lean on me,’ he said. ‘Just show us the way, and we’ll get you home.’
    There were four flights of stairs to climb, and she could scarcely walk, but she managed it, grim determination forcing her on. She kept muttering ‘no ’ospital, no ’ospital.’ I think it was the dread of hospitals, and the fear that if she stumbled and fell she would be forcibly carried to one, that kept her going.
    The long walk around the balconies seemed interminable. I could see faces pressed against the windows which vanished as we drew close. One little boy’s face remained as we passed, and a hand shot out and snatched him back. I heard a curse, a heavy slap and a yelp of pain. I winced for the child. He was only being curious.
    When we got to her door, the woman refused to let us come in with her.
    ‘Nah, get orf,’ she said, ‘bleed orf. I’ll be all right.’
    We left, and I never saw her again. Women were tough in those days, really tough. Perhaps this woman was so used to violence that it had become part of life. Perhaps some kind neighbour took care of her for a few days. If she did have a hairline fracture of the skull, it mended in its own time and with no assistance from the doctors.
    A charge was not brought against either woman. For one thing the injured woman made no official complaint, and for another personal fights in those days were common. Police just separated the adversaries and, unless some other crime was involved, charges were seldom made.

    Such scenes were no surprise to the Sisters, I discovered, when, full of the importance of my story, I related it at luncheon the