His mind was working overtime as he walked home to Rea Terrace. Arthur considered the options. He could march in there all bluster and accuse them of stealing his daughter before he dragged her away. She could then take care of him as she should and he could finally get his hands on that necklace her mother had left her, once she revealed its hiding place.
Or, he could tell them he would report them to the constabulary for child theft unless they paid him to keep his mouth shut.
Arthur wondered if business was good at the establishment, which would mean he had another choice – breaking and entering. The takings would be a good haul but thieving such as that could only be undertaken once. The bobbies would no doubt patrol there regularly afterwards. There was a deal to think on concerning this and now Arthur knew where that girl was, he was in no hurry. He didn’t think she’d be moving on any time soon as it would appear that she’d landed squarely on her feet. He guessed she was being well cared for and would settle herself in nicely.
Once he was back in the house, Arthur emptied his pockets onto the kitchen table. Five pounds, six shillings and nine pence – not a bad morning’s work but not nearly enough for him to re-join the higher ranks of society. It was time to make himself some serious money. On that thought he flipped open the newspaper he’d purchased from a boy standing outside the market. Scanning the columns, his eyes lit up. There were two possibilities; businessmen about to be laid to rest. Making a note of the details, Arthur went upstairs to brush down his best suit. He was going to a funeral the following day and so he had to look his best.
Taking the suit from the tallboy, Arthur chuckled. He felt the old thrill rush through him at the thought of returning to the life he’d missed. He had known Avril’s first husband’s money would not last and he had enjoyed the spending of it. Now he was going back to doing what he loved – cheating women out of their inheritances. Catching sight of himself in the old mirror on the wall, Arthur saw how he had let himself go.
‘This won’t do at all, Arthur m’lad,’ he muttered, ‘you need a bath and a shave.’
Laying the suit on the bed he ran downstairs to drag the tin bath into the kitchen from the back yard. Whilst pans of water heated on the small range, Arthur sharpened his razor on the leather strop.
He shaved carefully; he couldn’t attend a funeral with bits of paper stuck on cuts and nicks. Then he poured the warm water into the bath and began to strip off his dirty clothes. As he washed away the grime and sweat accumulated over the past weeks, Arthur’s excitement mounted. In the very near future he would be a man of means once more, and revel in the respect and deference shown to him.
Whistling a little tune, Arthur grinned and then remembered – he’d better clean his teeth too!
At two o’clock the following day Arthur Micklewhite followed the mourners to a graveside at St Bartholomew’s Church and stood back to watch the interment. Mr Bradshaw’s coffin was lowered into the ground with great reverence and it was all Arthur could do not to smile wickedly. He recalled the details he’d read in the paper about the man these people were saying goodbye to. The late Mr John Bradshaw ran a large nail making business which, according to the law, would now pass to his widow. Arthur glanced over at the woman dressed all in black, a small net veil covering her eyes. He guessed her to be in her sixties, she had a trim figure in her widow’s weeds and what struck him most of all was – there was no mopping away of tears. Was she all cried out already or was she glad to see the back of the man she’d been married to? Either way, Arthur intended to find out and in short order.
The mourners began to drift away and Arthur realised it was time for introductions. He was the last in line to pay his respects and engage the bereaved woman in conversation. As the line moved along, he realised there did not appear to be any offspring attending Mrs Bradshaw. Excellent, no family to avoid!
‘Mrs Bradshaw, I was so sorry to hear of your husband’s passing, please accept my condolences,’ Arthur said as he took her black lace gloved hand in his and kissed the back tenderly.
‘Thank you, Mr…?’
‘Short, Gabriel Short,’ Arthur answered.
‘Did you know John, Mr Short?’ Mrs Bradshaw asked.
‘Not in the social sense, Mrs Bradshaw – we were colleagues.’
‘Ah, I see. I’m afraid I know nothing of business, Mr Short, and now it seems I own one. I’m sure I don’t know what I shall do about it.’
‘If there is anything I can help you with, you simply must let me know. In fact, if you would allow, I would dearly like to call on you next week – to assure myself of your wellbeing, you understand,’ Arthur said, giving the lady a look which he considered may cause her to feel less afraid of this stranger.
‘It’s not necessary, Mr Short,’ Mrs Bradshaw said as they walked together towards the church gate.
‘I agree, madam, but it would please me immensely. I would very much like to know more about you – your husband, that is,’ Arthur made sure she had picked up on his deliberate slip of the tongue.
She turned to him with a frown, ‘Are you flirting with me Mr Short?’
‘God forbid such a thing and at this sad time! Mrs Bradshaw, you cut me to the quick!’ Arthur feigned effrontery and with a small bow went on. ‘If I have offended you then I apologise most profoundly. Now I will leave you. Goodbye, Mrs Bradshaw.’
‘Mr Short!’ Mrs Bradshaw called as he turned away from her and Arthur stopped. ‘I’m sorry, it’s just that this is the first time we’ve met and I’m not used to having gentleman callers.’
‘It was not meant to be anything untoward, madam, I am merely worried for you,’ Arthur smiled showing clean teeth.
‘Forgive my rudeness, Mr Short, but I’m sure you understand it has been a trying time for me. Please – feel free to call any day next week. Thank you for your concern.’
Kissing her hand again, Arthur helped her into the driving seat of her cabriolet and handed her the reins. They exchanged a brief smile then she snapped the leather straps together, telling the horse to walk on. Arthur gave a small wave before turning to walk away, a broad grin splitting his face.
Once home, Arthur hung his suit in the tallboy and returned to the kitchen wearing only his long johns. Putting the kettle to boil on the range, he prepared himself a sandwich of cheese and salad. He propped open the back door with a chair to allow the air to circulate then made a pot of tea. As he busied about, he congratulated himself on his performance at the churchyard. He should have been an actor, but having said that, acting was not a lucrative profession. If the next funeral went as well as it did today, he would be off to a flying start.
Pulling the slip of paper towards him, Arthur checked the details of the service arranged for the following day – St Phillip’s Church on Temple Row at eleven o’clock. Mr Roderick Chilton, carriage maker, was leaving a wife and daughter.
Munching his food, Arthur hoped the daughter was not a youngster. With a little luck the girl would be grown and married.
Lifting his cup, he made a toast, ‘Don’t worry about yer wife, Roderick, I’ll take care of her.’
Arthur propped his bare feet onto another kitchen chair and finished his food feeling all was well with his world.
9
Whilst eating his breakfast, Jack Larkin was trying hard to read the newspaper. His reading skills were deficient due to lack of schooling, but he persevered with help from Dolly.
‘The mutiny of sepoys in Meerut, forty miles north east of Delhi in India, is still raging,’ Dolly read aloud as she took over after Jack had pushed the paper away exasperatedly.
‘Record attendances to see the Art of Treasures of Great Britain exhibition in Manchester in the month since its opening.’ Dolly looked up dreamily. ‘I’d love to see that.’
‘Go on, cocka,’ Nancy encouraged, amazed at how easily Dolly read the headlines.
‘The British Museum Reading Room was opened in May and appears to be in full use,’ Dolly continued.
A banging on the doors of The Crown Saloon had Nellie sigh then leave the kitchen.
Poppy and Nancy were chatting quietly and Jack and Dolly were clearing away their empty plates when raised voices were heard. Silence descended in the kitchen as all ears strained to hear what the ruckus was about. A moment later Nellie was back muttering obscenities under her breath.
‘What’s going on, Mum?’ Jack asked.
‘Nowt, lad, can you and Dolly fill the shelves? Poppy sweep the bar floor before you scald the empty bottles, there’s a love,’ Nellie said.
With only Nancy and Nellie in the kitchen it was the former who asked, ‘What’s up, Nell?’
‘Henchmen from the distillers; came round to tell me I have to up my payments!’ Nellie dropped onto a chair with an explosive sigh.
‘That shouldn’t be a problem with the way business has been lately, should it?’ Nancy asked.
‘Hmmm,’ Nellie wasn’t listening, she was trying to work out a way of paying off what she owed in one go. Firstly, she needed to discover how much she still owed, then check her savings before deciding whether she could afford to dispose of this debt completely. Then she made her first decision – she would visit the man who had lent her the money to convert The Crown Saloon from a run-down pub into a glittering gin palace.
‘What are you going to do, Nell?’ Nancy asked.
Nellie said nothing and shook her head.
‘You’re going to see him, ain’t yer?’ Nancy pursued her line of questioning.
‘Looks like I’ll have to.’
‘I bloody knew it! Oh, Nell, be careful! You know what that bugger is like – everybody does!’
‘I know. Ezra Morton is a nasty piece of work if he gets riled, but I don’t see any way around this. I can’t pay any more than I am already,’ Nellie said as she rubbed a cheek with her palm. ‘While I still owe Ezra, this place is a tied house. That means I can’t buy my gin from anyone but him – so I’m stuck on that point. I ain’t got enough to pay him off completely, I don’t think, so that’s no good either. The only option to me is to talk to Ezra to explain my circumstances and hope he’s amenable to finding a solution to suit us both.’
‘We could do with a big burly bloke around here to deal with men like Ezra Morton!’ Nancy snapped.
‘I could take Jack with me…’ Nellie began.
‘Are you out of your stark staring mind?!’ Nancy exploded. ‘The lad’s ten years old for God’s sake! What do you think he could do if Ezra turns nasty?’
Nellie dragged her hands down her face then nodded her agreement. ‘You’re right. I’ll go on my own.’
‘You want me to come with you?’ Nancy asked tentatively.
‘No, Nance, you need to stay here with the kids and oversee the bar. Even if I’m out, we still need to open up else there’ll be murder done,’ Nellie answered. Getting to her feet with a groan she added, ‘I’ll go tomorrow morning.’
Nancy sat with a cup of tea and pondered on the person they had discussed. Ezra Morton, a man of wealth earned mostly from dishonest practices and bullyboy tactics, so the rumours said. He would lend money with extortionate interest rates, and when folk couldn’t pay, he would send his team out to put the fear of God into them.
The stories were rife about men being beaten when late on a re-payment to Ezra while women were threatened with having their children stolen and taken into Ezra’s employ until the debt was paid off.
With a sigh Nancy considered whether these tales were true or whether they were circulated by Morton’s men as a warning to others not to default. Either way, Nellie would be putting herself in harm’s way and Nancy was terribly worried for her.
An image of Ezra formed in her mind and she could not deny the man was handsome. He was tall with dark hair greying slightly at the temples. Hazel eyes that could twinkle with mischief or bore into your very soul. Well-dressed at all times, Ezra was shown deference by those around him. Always taken to the best tables in restaurants, the proprietors being careful not to upset the man who could see them out of business in the blink of an eye. Staying on the right side of the law, Morton was untouchable. Hiding behind a cloak of being an honest businessman, Ezra’s suspected underhand dealings could never be proved.
Nancy couldn’t understand why such a good looking man had never married; maybe he had just not met the right woman. Or, it might be his desperation to make money which ruled his life. Whatever the reason, he lived alone but was always surrounded by his men; was this for protection against anyone who would do him harm? Nancy doubted it was for companionship.
Having finished her tea, Nancy thought it time to begin preparing their lunch. Whatever she said, she knew Nellie would proceed with her visit to Ezra the following day. All she could do was pray it went well and her friend returned home safe and sound.
Dolly and Jack had been busy in the bar with Poppy. The place was packed to the gunnels as usual and folk were already inebriated to the point of falling down. Dolly smiled when Jack dug her in the ribs and pointed to a man trying to dance a hornpipe. They watched as his legs tangled and he landed hard on his rump. Dragging himself to his feet he looked at the ground for whatever had tripped him over, and the youngsters collapsed in a fit of giggles.
‘Hey, take it outside, ladies!’ Poppy yelled as two women began to argue. Ignoring the girl, the disagreement became heated so Poppy shouted again. ‘Stop that or there’ll be no more gin for either of you!’ That immediately got their attention and with a harrumph the women moved away from each other – another crisis averted.
‘Ah, Poppy, give ush a kish,’ a drunken man slurred as he leaned forward across the counter.
‘Not on yer life,’ Poppy replied with a smile as she pushed him away, ‘you ain’t even got yer false teeth in!’
The drunk smacked his lips and gave her a toothless grin as he staggered backwards.
‘Now if it was him who was asking…’ Poppy grinned at the handsome young man leaning on the bar watching her.
The rest of the morning went on in the same vein; customers arguing, women singing, men tottering – all drinking as fast as they could get served.
Joining Poppy, Nellie shook her head. ‘All enjoying their destructive love affair with gin I see.’
Poppy nodded and sighed. ‘Have you seen old Aggie over there?’
Nellie’s eyes roamed the crowd in search of the woman. ‘Oh, blimey! What happened?’
‘She pawned her frock to buy her drink!’ Poppy answered as they both stared at the old girl dressed only in her drawers, chemise and long petticoats.
‘Aggie! Get off home and get dressed!’ Nellie called out.
‘Can’t do it, Nell, this is all I’ve got left!’ Aggie shouted back.
‘Shall I get—?’ Poppy began.
‘No. Don’t give her one of your dresses cos she’ll pawn that as well,’ Nellie interrupted. ‘Don’t worry we won’t see her again after today until she’s got some pennies in her hand.’
‘Nell, this gin tastes like camel p—’ a man started to complain about the dregs in his glass. Clearly, he was hoping for a free refill.
‘Don’t you bloody dare say it!’ Nellie jumped in. ‘You don’t like it – don’t drink it!’
Turning to Jack she said, ‘You and Dolly go and get your dinner now.’
Nancy welcomed them into the kitchen with a plate of faggots in rich gravy, peas, fresh bread thick with butter and a cup of tea. She laughed loudly when told about Aggie drinking gin wearing only her underwear.
During the afternoon whilst everyone was busy in the bar, Nancy spent her time thinking while she baked. She was making a meat and potato pie which she knew was everyone’s favourite. Rolling out pastry she wondered how Ezra Morton would react to Nellie’s visit the following morning. Nowt to do now but wait and see.
10
It wa
s in the early hours of the morning when Arthur Micklewhite stole silently into the yard of The Crown Saloon. The place was in darkness and he checked around, assuring himself he couldn’t be seen in the light of the half moon. Trying the back door he was not surprised to find it locked. He tried the windows – firmly closed. Screwing up his mouth in frustration, he realised the only way in would be to smash the glass pane and that would alert the occupants. Standing back, he looked up, hoping a bedroom window may have been left open against the heat of the summer. He was disappointed, there was no way in. He knew he could charm anyone into giving him their money and he was a nifty pickpocket but breaking and entering was not his forte. He decided it might be prudent to give up this idea before he was caught by a patrolling constable.
Slipping back through the gate into the alley, Arthur made his way home, thoroughly disgruntled at being no richer for his efforts. What he didn’t realise was that all the time he was scouting the yard, a pair of eyes was watching his every move.
Dolly, unable to sleep for the suffocating heat, had been about to open her window when she saw the figure furtively creeping about in the yard below. Staying in the shadows she waited and kept her gaze on the intruder until he had given up and left. All she could tell was that it was a man, his features indiscernible in the shadows of darkness.
Unwilling to open the window now, Dolly returned to sit on her bed feeling unnerved. Evidently the man had been trying to break in, but his efforts had been thwarted by the place being sealed tight.
Happy at being given her own room after a clear out of rubbish, she wished for a moment she was still in with Poppy. Unable to rest now, Dolly placed a chair by the window. She would keep a look out until the morning when she would tell Nellie about what she’d seen. Despite the cloying heat, Dolly shivered. Who was that man and what was he after? Had he intended to rob the Saloon of its takings? Or did he have a more sinister intention? Was he out to murder them in their beds?
The Children from Gin Barrel Lane Page 5