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73 pages

English

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Who Will Be Your Judge is a historical mystery thriller that starts during WW2 and continues into 1960's gangland London. Two small brothers, Billy and Richard, experience a difficult childhood when growing up in the East End. Evacuated from London during the Blitz, they are sheltered at the House of Nazareth and under the control of some viscous nuns. Life there is so bad that they prefer to go back to the bombs of London. The war, however, claims the lives of both their parents, and they are rehomed once more at Barnardo's until separated by adoption. George Seagrave adopts Richard and takes him to his family in the country where Richard has to adapt to strict Victorian rules. Billy in turn is claimed by a poor, childless couple in the East End.As they grow, Billy's dream of becoming a professional boxer vanishes as he develops epilepsy. Bitter and angry he gets involved in smash and grab raids as he promises himself to get out of poverty. He works his way up to become a club owner in the West End. Richard, now a priest, hears about Billy's raids and tries to persuade his brother to give up that lifestyle. It is only when Billy is asked to clear his grandmothers flat and finds a letter a letter which contains a secret that everything starts to change for both him and Richard. This is a very powerful novel about family, war and gangland culture.

Sujets

Gran Londres

Historical fiction

Greater London

Grand Londres

London

Informations

Publié par	Troubador Publishing Ltd
Date de parution	14 novembre 2018
Nombre de lectures	0
EAN13	9781784625801
Langue	English

Informations légales : prix de location à la page 0,0200€. Cette information est donnée uniquement à titre indicatif conformément à la législation en vigueur.

Extrait

Who Will Be Your Judge
Edie Watney Judd

Copyright © 2015 Edie Watney Judd
The moral right of the author has been asserted.
Apart from any fair dealing for the purposes of research or private study,
or criticism or review, as permitted under the Copyright, Designs and Patents
Act 1988, this publication may only be reproduced, stored or transmitted, in
any form or by any means, with the prior permission in writing of the
publishers, or in the case of reprographic reproduction in accordance with
the terms of licences issued by the Copyright Licensing Agency. Enquiries
concerning reproduction outside those terms should be sent to the publishers.
Matador ®
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Wistow Road, Kibworth Beauchamp,
Leicestershire. LE8 0RX
Tel: 0116 279 2299
Email: books@troubador.co.uk
Web: www.troubador.co.uk/matador
Twitter: @matadorbooks
ISBN 978 1784625 801
British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data.
A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.
Matador ® is an imprint of Troubador Publishing Ltd

Converted to eBook by EasyEPUB

In memory of my husband Kenneth Alfred Judd
Contents

Cover

ACKNOWLEDGEMENT

PART 1

CHAPTER 1

CHAPTER 2

CHAPTER 3

PART 2

CHAPTER 4

CHAPTER 5

PART 3

CHAPTER 6

CHAPTER 7
ACKNOWLEDGEMENT
Enormous thanks go to my husband Kenneth Alfred Judd, who inspired and encouraged me to write this book. He was a great entertainer, his stories of wartime years as a child were so vivid that I felt I should preserve them in the form of a book and I could share them with you. Sadly he died in 2006 but I know he would be proud of me now.
I thank too Dr Duncan Watney, my second husband, who also gave me his support as he felt I should finish my book in memory of Ken. He offered some helpful suggestions on how to achieve my aims with my book. Sadly a few years later I lost him too.
I give my thanks to Laidi Saliasis, my son-in-law, a talented music producer, who suggested making this book an audio-book with some of his compositions accompanying the story, bringing it to life through the imagination of the reader and listener. Finally I give many thanks to Nathaniel Tapley for narrating the book.
Many thanks to my mentors, Steve Alexander Smith, Dr Michael Weinbren and Janet Lawrence for her guidance from the Writer’s Workshop.
My information sources have come from the archives of the Imperial War Museum and published books: Jessica Mann, Out of Harm’s Way; Julie Summers, When the Children Came Home; Donald James Wheal, World’s End; Melanie McGrath, Silvertown; Maureen Waller, London 1945; Jake Arnott, The Long Firm; Jake Arnott, He Kills Coppers; also from newspapers and magazines: World War II Eyewitness Experience of The Daily Telegraph; RAF: A war record of achievement; Front Line 1940-1941.
My search also includes letters and online information from the BBC’s website: The People’s War. I am grateful to those who shared their memories and emotions of their evacuation.
The book is based partly on true stories and facts but they are wrapped in fictitious material.
If any character in this book resembles an actual person, it would be a coincidence.
I made every effort to get the copyright holder’s permission to use quoted material.

Edie Watney Judd 2014
PART 1
CHAPTER 1

BEACHY HEAD

1964
It is a breezy, sunny day. The sun shines brightly down onto the sparkling white chalk cliffs of the Seven Sisters at Beachy Head. The wild forces of the far-spreading sea are crashing onto these dramatic cliffs which stretch a long way along the Sussex coast. They are bounded by the graceful, undulating Downs and capped above by the deep blue sky. The breeze carries the gentle scent of wild herbs. The air is purity itself. It has a quality of clearness and brightness.
Richard, the priest of the twelfth-century Holy Spirit church in West Dean, is cycling through the Friston Forest. When he gets to Cuckmere Haven, he parks his bike and walks up to the first cliff of the Seven Sisters along the astray where he starts to climb up to Beachy Head. It is dead quiet, no one is around; only the occasional seagull breaks up the tranquility of the air.
Richard has often walked this route, the last time with his father, George Seagrave. He admires the spectacular view from the eroded cliff top and listens to the wild music of the never-resting sea. His heart pounds in his chest. His head is buzzing; he needs fresh air to think straight.

THE PHONEY WAR

3 September 1939

Newspapers are full of public announcements, posters go up on every wall and window, leaflets slide through doors, boys hold out flyers on the tube, offering tips on what to do if war breaks out. In case of a gas attack there are reminders to carry the gas masks at all times. If people are caught without them, they get fined.
Hitler will send no warning so always carry your gas mask is advertised everywhere.
Thirty-eight million gas masks in cardboard boxes are given out to families. People fear as deadly, odourless mustard gas was used in the First World War and could be used this time. They are warned that if there is gas about, the air-raid wardens would sound the gas rattle and a bell would ring when it was all clear.
London has a sense of what it might be in for.
Preparations begin for a possible air attack from Germany. Railings are melted down for the war efforts. Large, elephant-like barrage balloons, three times the size of a cricket pitch, are going up in the sky one to two miles apart slowly moving clumsily across the sky as far as the eye can see. They are deployed to force attacking Luftwaffe to fly higher if they attack. They are held by cables which are fixed to winches on lorries. These cables are more important than the balloons as an aircraft has only to touch a cable and it will be destroyed straight away. If the balloon is shot it will explode, taking the aircraft with it.
Gas lamps are taken down, windows of shops are boarded. All through the East End volunteers dig up yards, lift concrete, tape up windows. Four million sandbags are piled round the entrances to shops and public buildings. Pillar boxes are painted with yellow gas-sensitive paint which is intended to turn green should there be a gas attack. The streets themselves resemble obstacle courses. Anderson shelters made of curved, corrugated steel sheets are distributed to families, which are erected in people’s backyards. Kathryn and her husband, Alfred Ventrice Duggan, have got one free as their income is less than £250 a year. They live in the East End, in a back-to-back terraced house in Lanfranc Road, Tower Hamlets.
It is a nice sunny day today. Council men are preparing to erect one of the shelters in the Duggan’s back garden when Alfred appears, thinking aloud.
‘Hmm, funny looking things, aren’t they? They look like a beetle or something.’
‘Yeah, they are. New invention by Mr Anderson; we all have to have one.’
‘Is it strong enough, though? Looks a bit flimsy to me! Never mind, when it’s filled with water we can all have a bath! There is some use of it I suppose.’ They all laugh.
‘It’s a right squeeze, innit? Missus might like it, mind you.’ They are all roaring with laughter by now.
‘You never lose your sense of humour,’ Alfred adds with a cheeky smile.
It is unbelievable that there will be a war but they all have to make the necessary preparations.
‘C’mon, let me give ye a hand.’ Alfred is holding up a sheet when four-year-old Billy comes out of the house with his little shovel.
‘I can help too, Dad. Please let me, Dad,’ he jumps up and down.
‘Go in, son, help your mum instead. Ask when dinner is ready. Chop, chop.’
Richard, six, is watching intently the development of the works outside through the window, wondering what life will be like when war breaks out. He is saddened by the thought. Is it really going to happen?
The shelter is erected at last. The men are just about covering it with a 15’’ layer of earth when Kathryn announces that dinner is ready. Looking at this new accessory in their garden she thinks she could grow tomatoes on the top of it.
By 1 September 1939 windows have tape stuck on them to prevent explosions shattering the glass. Blackout blinds and curtains hang at every window, or cardboard with paint on it to stop electric light penetrating after dark.
There are queues everywhere and the shops appear almost empty.
Street lights are switched off or dimmed and shielded to deflect the light downwards. Traffic lights and vehicle headlights are fitted with slotted covers to deflect their beams to the ground. In the deep void of blackout, everyone feels lost. Walkers tiptoe gingerly behind whoever among them is in possession of a torch covered with red or blue paper to dim the beam. They are too terrified to strike out on their own. Some walk round in circles, others head off in the wrong direction only to discover they are miles from home. Thousands of people die in road accidents. To help prevent accidents, white stripes are painted on the roads and lamp posts. Many people are injured tripping up, falling down steps or bumping into things. There is an almighty crash as cars collide with each other, and one crashes into a lamp post. In the distance a man has been hit by a car. He is screaming from his injuries. Treacherous and invisible in the night, the river takes to swallowing its own. Londoners topple over the keeper walls into the grimy water, only to be dragged out, lifeless, in the dawn. For some, life blooms in the darkness. Alliances are made and deals are done. Money changes hands, pockets are picked, sex is bought and sold, goods are smuggled. Every evening brings some new adventure.
Then finally on 3 September war is declared. Families sit in their homes, tense, waiting for the news of the first fighting. The anxious time begins.
It is a sunny day, many p