The Children from Gin Barrel Lane

by Lindsey Hutchinson

  Once home, Elizabeth sat in her own parlour and pondered. She could let her mother have her own way regarding Mr Short, but that could prove an expensive lesson for Sylvia to learn. Or, she could find a way of discovering whether Short was the man he claimed to be.

  Trying to recall his answers to her questions, Elizabeth frowned. … fingers in many pies he had said. Mr Short had not revealed exactly what business he was in, which was suspect in itself, and would make it difficult for discreet enquiries to be made. However, Elizabeth would not give up, she would find a way to prove her point – that Gabriel Short was a perfidious liar and cheat. Knowing there was no time like the present, Elizabeth grabbed her parasol and once more left the house. She was going to visit the foreman of her late father’s carriage works. Maybe he could shed some light on the mysterious Mr Short.

  Over in Bailey Street, Nellie watched with glee as one full barrel followed another into her cellar; the draymen helping Frederick to unload and roll them into the spaces made available.

  Doffing their caps for the tip Nellie gave, the draymen went on their way.

  ‘That’s it, cellar’s full to bursting,’ Frederick said as he walked into the kitchen.

  ‘Ta, Fred. I’d like a word so sit you down. That fella you chucked out t’other day – he was Dolly’s step-father.’ She was unaware that Nancy had explained all to him previously.

  ‘Oh, I’m sorry Nellie, if I made a mistake…’ Frederick replied. He was feeling wretched and his eyes darted to Nancy hoping she wouldn’t hold his error against him.

  ‘No, you did the right thing,’ Nellie assured him. ‘Look, let me explain. Dolly’s mum left her a necklace which she sold. She gave the money to me and that was how I could pay Ezra off. Now, I suspect her step-father thinks she still has the necklace and he wants it. I’m worried he might try to take off with Dolly. She’s scared stiff of him Fred, and I need…’

  ‘I’ll do it! I’ll look after her, Nellie. I swear I won’t let her out of my sight,’ Frederick said quickly.

  ‘Thanks, Fred, I knew I could rely on you,’ Nellie said with a smile.

  ‘Me an’ the Dempsters will keep everybody safe, Nellie.’ The big man’s voice was quiet but the promise in his words gave Nellie the reassurance she was looking for.

  ‘Cup of tea, Fred?’’ Nancy asked now that was settled.

  ‘Ooh, lovely. Can I have a bit of your smashing cake an’ all please?’

  Nancy grinned and nodded with a blush to her cheeks.

  Taking a seat, Frederick rubbed his hands together in anticipation of the culinary delight.

  Just then Jack and Dolly tumbled in through the doorway to join Frederick at the table and he immediately began to tease them.

  ‘No, you gotta say it quick like,’ Fred said. ‘Try again. I chased a bug around a corner, I’ll get his blood he knows I will.’

  It took a moment for it to sink in precisely what was being said and the children laughed heartily as they realised they had actually been swearing.

  ‘Try this one – red lorry, yellow lorry,’ Fred suggested.

  This tongue-twister caused howls of hilarious laughter as everyone gave it a go.

  ‘I know one an’ all,’ Nancy said as she collected her thoughts. ‘She sells sea shells on the sea shore.’

  Again, shea sells were being shold on the shea sore which had Fred’s booming voice bouncing off the walls.

  Nellie watched them for a moment. It was like having three children, albeit one being much bigger than the other two.

  Frederick was not academically inclined but he knew right from wrong. Nellie revelled in the laughter echoing around the kitchen, which was interrupted by Poppy calling for some help in the bar. Nellie duly obliged, leaving the others to enjoy their break time.

  The Chilton Carriage Works stood at one end of a long street named Cheapside. The horse repository was spread out around it and inside men worked long and hard putting together many different styles of carriages. Landaus, cabriolets, phaetons, traps – all were constructed here and sold on to those who could afford to buy them. The loud banging of hammers on metal echoed around the massive space as men knocked in bolts. Grunts sounded as others forced large springs into place and whistling could be heard from the upholsterers as they stitched together the leather for the seating.

  Elizabeth had arrived and immediately headed towards the foreman’s office. The man apologised for being unable to help Elizabeth regarding her questions about Gabriel Short at that precise moment. However, he assured her he would make enquiries himself and inform her of any outcome.

  She had also confided in her husband who had agreed to help in her quest. After all, when his mother-in-law passed on, the carriage works would come to Elizabeth and himself so it was in his interests to keep it safely within the family.

  There was nothing more Elizabeth could do but sit back and hope someone could give her more information about Short.

  With regards to her mother, Elizabeth was in a quandary. Should she apologise for her behaviour and hurtful words and hope to be welcomed back? Or should she just leave Sylvia to her own devices and pray all turned out well in the end? Elizabeth pondered the dilemma until she could no longer think straight. In the end she decided to do nothing and wait for her mother’s call for help – which she guessed would surely come eventually – sooner rather than later, she hoped.

  21

  The following weeks were extremely busy for everyone, and the slow change of season went unnoticed for the most part. The heat of the summer gave way to a chilly morning mist which swirled through the streets in a ghostly manner. Jackets and mufflers were donned, and women wrapped their shawls tight around their shoulders. The silver lacework of spiders’ webs covered in dew hung in nooks and crannies and between the stalks of fading flowers. People no longer strolled in the sunshine; instead they rushed along as if in a hurry to prepare themselves for the oncoming winter. Jams were being made and stored to last the months when fruit would be expensive and hard to come by. Jars of pickled onions and vegetables stood in rows on most shelves in Birmingham kitchens and sculleries, and recipes for time honoured traditional stews were brought out in readiness.

  Arthur Micklewhite considered his visits to the widows over breakfast. It was all taking far too long and he wanted to be a man of means sooner rather than later.

  Making a decision, he shrugged into a jacket, wrapped his muffler around his neck and slapped a cap on his head, then he stepped out into the cold yard. Slamming the door shut behind him, he strode purposefully down Rea Terrace.

  He was on his way to The Crown Saloon – it was time to confront Dolly Daydream about that necklace. It was a long way and he thought as he walked, realising he would have to look out for the big man who had ejected him previously. He guessed the fellow was all brawn and very little brain so his best bet would be to confuse him with words.

  An hour later the saloon came into view and Arthur stopped. Rubbing his chin, he ran through the different scenarios in his mind before he carried on.

  Pushing an inebriated woman out of the doorway, Arthur ignored her grumbles of protest and entered the saloon. He grimaced at the number of drunken folk – even at this early hour of the morning.

  Shoving his way to the bar he banged his fist on the counter.

  ‘You’ll have to wait your turn,’ Poppy called out as she cast a reproving glance at the impatient man.

  ‘I need to see Dolly!’ Arthur yelled.

  ‘Do you now? Well, you still have to wait your turn,’ Poppy returned.

  ‘You fetch my daughter – NOW!’

  ‘I won’t tell you again!’ Poppy snapped as she continued to pour gin and take money.

  ‘Dolly! Get yourself out here!’ Arthur shouted at the top of his voice.

  The noise in the bar quietened somewhat as everyone, eager to hear what was about to take place, stared at the irate stranger.

  Dolly hobbled through, followed closely by Frederick. When she
spied her step-father, her face lost all colour and she moved closer to her big protector.

  ‘Right, madam, it’s time you came home with me!’ Arthur yelled.

  ‘No,’ Dolly replied with a shake of her head.

  ‘You don’t belong here; your place is with me!’ Arthur tried again to push his point.

  ‘You can’t make me – you’re not my father!’ Dolly’s voice was like breaking glass as she struggled to keep control of her emotions.

  Arthur sighed loudly as he looked around him at the faces watching the contretemps. ‘Do you believe this? My step-daughter refuses to come home!’

  Some heads shook, clearly feeling the man was hard done by, whilst others moved closer to the counter, showing their support for the young girl.

  ‘Don’t you come into my place shouting the odds!’ Nellie finally intervened.

  ‘She shouldn’t be in your place!’ Arthur spat nastily.

  ‘She’s better off here with us than with you!’ Nellie growled.

  ‘She’s family! So—’ Arthur began.

  ‘So that gives you the right to abuse her, does it?’ Nellie was furious now.

  Murmurs sounded as people stepped away from the man accused.

  ‘What I do is none of your business!’ Arthur snapped.

  ‘It is when it concerns you trying to fill your dead wife’s shoes with this young ’un, you dirty bugger!’ Nellie’s patience was all but gone.

  Oohs and ahhs told Arthur exactly what the crowd thought of him now.

  ‘That one has something that belongs to me! She stole it!’ Arthur tried a different tack.

  ‘I did not! I have nothing of yours,’ Dolly shouted, finding courage from the support around her.

  ‘You’re a liar!’ Arthur snapped.

  ‘Now she’s a thief and a liar – is that what you’re saying?’ Nellie asked, a smirk on her face.

  ‘Yes! I want my property right now. I’m entitled to it.’ Arthur searched the crowd for backing.

  ‘What you want – if I’m not mistaken – is for Dolly to keep yer bed warm!’ Nellie raised her voice so all could hear.

  A woman standing next to Arthur gave him a push saying, ‘You filthy swine!’ Her words were echoed by others standing close by.

  Arthur ignored her and kept his attention on Nellie. ‘That’s slander! I’ll get the police on to you and they’ll shut you down!’

  ‘I’m breaking no laws so they can’t,’ Nellie replied, hoping no-one would inform on her not closing her doors at the appointed time.

  ‘I’m not going to stand here arguing with you, I have things to do!’ Arthur shot back.

  ‘Go and do them then, but I tell you now – you even think about coming near Dolly again and you’ll regret it,’ Nellie said forcefully.

  ‘Are you threatening me?’ Arthur turned to the folk around him. ‘Did you hear that? She threatened me!’

  Heads shook. The possibility of being banned and so being unable to drink their beloved gin was uppermost in their minds and helped to keep their mouths shut tight.

  Poppy and Jack were still serving drinks whilst the argument raged on. Nancy stood in the doorway with her hand covering her mouth, a worried look on her face.

  ‘I’ve had enough of this,’ Fred boomed out as he walked towards the end of the counter and pushed his way through the little gate. ‘It’s time you left, mister!’

  ‘I’m not going without her!’ Arthur yelled jabbing a finger in Dolly’s direction.

  Now at the other side of the bar, Fred grabbed Arthur’s arm and swung him around. Face to face it was Fred who growled, ‘You, get out – NOW! I’ll tell you summat else an’ all, if you bother our Dolly again – they’ll never find yer body. That is a threat as well as a promise.’

  A loud cheer went up from the crowd as Fred physically removed the man from the saloon. Out on the street he spoke quietly into Arthur’s face as he held onto him. ‘What you had in mind for that young wench is disgusting, and it ain’t gonna happen. Now, if you know what’s good for you, you’ll get yerself off and don’t ever think about coming back.’

  ‘She’s got a piece of jewellery that’s mine!’ Arthur spat in frustration.

  ‘She hasn’t – it’s gone,’ Fred said before quickly realising his mistake. He shouldn’t have told the man that, it was Dolly’s business.

  ‘She’s sold it? That bitch!’ Arthur fumed.

  That was all it took for Fred’s fist to shoot forward catching Arthur squarely on the jaw.

  Staggering backwards, Arthur landed hard on the cobbles and his hand went to his face where pain lanced up towards his temple. ‘I’ll have you for that!’

  Fred shook his head and with a grim smile asked, ‘Can you swim?’

  ‘What?’ Arthur answered with a frown, still rubbing his sore jaw.

  ‘I’d stay away from the canal if I were you, pal,’ Fred said with a grin.

  Arthur paled visibly as he realised the significance of the statement. Jumping to his feet and spinning on his heel he walked swiftly away, muttering as he went.

  Fred returned to the bar to be greeted by yet another cheer. Going to the kitchen where Dolly was being hugged by Nancy he said, ‘He’s gone, and he won’t be back.’

  ‘Thank you,’ Dolly said with a warm smile.

  ‘No more worries now, you’m safe with me,’ Fred said, returning the smile.

  ‘Ta, Fred,’ Nancy added shyly, a blush rising swiftly to her cheeks.

  Dolly caught the look that passed between Nancy and Fred and her smile turned to a grin. She had a feeling that look would turn into something more before too long and the thought pleased her immensely.

  ‘Dolly, I’m really sorry but your step-dad riled me to such an extent I told him the necklace was gone.’ Fred’s head hung in shame.

  ‘It doesn’t matter. The important thing is he’s gone now. Besides, he probably won’t believe it. Don’t worry about it any more, Fred, I just want to thank you for stepping up and helping.’ Dolly said.

  Fred nodded and they shared a warm smile.

  ‘Right, I’d best get back down the cellar,’ he said.

  ‘That was a lovely thing to do, Dolly, cos the big man was fretting there for a minute,’ Nancy said.

  Dolly grinned and said, ‘Back to work for me too, otherwise Nellie will be cursing.’

  22

  The chain of ragamuffin boys employed by Ezra Morton were stationed on every street corner from The Crown Saloon to the brewery site.

  Each was promised a tanner, six whole pennies, when they reported in relay that Poppy Charlton had left the gin palace for any reason.

  Stepping out into the street, Poppy had no idea that she was being watched. With a basket over her arm she strolled down the street towards the market. Normally it would be Nancy who did the shopping, but she was up to her armpits in pastry and so Poppy had volunteered to go.

  The message was passed from boy to boy and then on to Ezra – Poppy was headed for the market, judging by the basket.

  ‘Her’s just left The Crown, Mr Morton, sir!’ the boy said as he wiped a dirty hand beneath his nose.

  ‘Good lad. Which way?’ Ezra questioned.

  ‘Down Gin Barrel Lane, towards the market ’all,’ he said, trying to catch his breath. He had run all the way from his post on the corner of Ryder Street.

  ‘Here, make sure the others get theirs, mind,’ Ezra said as he gave the boy the money to be shared with the others in the chain. Grabbing his hat and cane he strode out of the office.

  Stepping out, Ezra’s excitement mounted at the prospect of meeting the girl again. He knew he would have to be careful not to frighten her away by being too forward. It must seem as though they had met by chance and he would have to ensure he was as charming as he could be.

  Then he spotted her, blonde curls bouncing among a sea of dark haired people. Increasing his pace, he walked behind her, admiring the sway of her hips. He knew he must have her for he was sure it would strike
directly at the heart of Nellie Larkin.

  The news of that woman paying off her loan had travelled like wildfire. Everyone knew each other’s business in this town – nothing was kept secret for long. He guessed Nellie had broadcast her news far and wide, letting others beholden to him know what she had achieved. He was still unaware of how she had come by the money and he’d bet no-one else knew that either. Somehow Larkin managed to keep her business to herself and only trumpeted what she wanted known. How did she manage to do that?

  Deliberately bumping into Poppy, he turned as she looked around. ‘Miss Charlton? It is you, is it not?’ Ezra asked as he doffed his hat.

  Poppy stared at the man addressing her.

  ‘It is, Mr Morton,’ Poppy said, flushing to the roots of her hair.

  ‘I see you are off to the market,’ he said, pointing to her basket with his cane.

  ‘Yes, I needed to get some air; it’s so stuffy in the saloon at times,’ she answered before turning to walk on.

  ‘I can imagine. If you don’t mind my saying, it’s no place for a lady such as yourself.’

  Poppy blushed at his compliment and concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other. ‘Forgive me, Mr Morton, but I really must get on with my shopping.’

  ‘Allow me to assist you, Miss Charlton,’ Ezra said, moving to take the basket from her arm.

  Poppy gasped and looked around at the faces staring at them. It was unheard of for a man to carry a basket or help with the shopping. ‘I can manage, thank you.’ Poppy moved the carrier to her other arm.