The Children from Gin Barrel Lane

by Lindsey Hutchinson

  Coming to a bench they plopped themselves down, thoroughly out of breath.

  After a minute Jack said. ‘We could come and visit your mum whenever we get the chance if you like.’

  ‘I’d like that,’ Dolly said before they both lapsed into silence, listening to the crows cawing in the treetops.

  ‘Jack,’ Dolly said after a while, ‘can we go to the market?’

  ‘Yes, what do you want?’

  ‘I’d like to get some flowers for your mum, as a thank you for all she’s done for me,’ Dolly answered.

  ‘She’d love that. Come on, we’ll go now.’ Jack pushed Dolly off the bench and she just managed to keep her footing. ‘Gotcha back,’ he grinned.

  After a visit to the market stall they headed home, a large bunch of flowers in Dolly’s arm, her cane in her other hand supporting her.

  Nellie was in the kitchen with Nancy, both enjoying yet another cup of tea when the children arrived. The aroma of baking cake filled the room making everyone’s mouth water.

  ‘Hey up, you two,’ Nancy called out.

  ‘Nellie, these are for you – from both of us,’ Dolly said as she glanced at Jack. Passing the bouquet to Nellie she went on, ‘It’s to say thank you for everything.’

  Nellie took the flowers, a look of astonishment on her face. ‘Oh, Dolly, I ain’t never had flowers before. Thank you. Oh, Nance… look!’ Burying her face in the blooms, Nellie sobbed with delight.

  Nancy dashed away a tear as she searched the kitchen for a vessel large enough to hold the flowers. Finding an old jug, she filled it with water and stood it on the table.

  Nellie painstakingly arranged each stem carefully in the jug, and at last she stared at the blaze of colour. Dragging her eyes away from her beautiful gift she opened her arms, calling the children to her. As Dolly and Jack came to her, Nellie folded them in a loving embrace.

  ‘You’re the best children a woman could ever wish for, ain’t that right, Nance?’

  Nancy nodded, not trusting herself to speak, then moved to join the little group to enjoy a hug too.

  Fred had watched the scene from the doorway. Silently he stole away back to the gloom of the cellar where he could let go of his own emotions in private. He felt lucky to be part of this wonderful family, and silently he thanked the Lord for his good fortune.

  Over in Drury Lane, not far from his brewery site, Ezra had not had a restful night. He had groaned throughout the long dark hours, his stomach threatening revolt. Whatever he had eaten it was having a profound effect on his health and this morning proved no easier as he dashed to the privy. Queasiness rolled over him causing him to sweat, and eventually he returned to his bed feeling thoroughly miserable. He determined he would be having words with that hotel – once he began to feel better.

  26

  Two days later, Elizabeth again followed Arthur discreetly as he left her mother’s house in Bishop Street. Feeling the first spots of cold rain, she opened her umbrella and tilted it slightly to hide her face. The sky began to darken and the raindrops pattered on the cobblestones. In the far distance a faint rumble of thunder heralded the forthcoming storm. Elizabeth ignored the inclement weather and pushed on through the streets after the man she knew as Gabriel Short. Where was he going now? Would he be returning home – maybe to a wife?

  The town was busy with people hurrying to avoid the downpour, grumbling as they went. Elizabeth was jostled as she wove her way down one road and along the tramway. Turning into a side street, she halted at the corner then took a few steps, fearing she might lose sight of him. She stopped abruptly as she saw Gabriel knock on the door of a property a little way ahead. She watched as an older lady welcomed him and he kissed her cheek as he stepped inside.

  I have you now! Elizabeth thought as she crossed over and, shaking the water from her umbrella, she entered a shop. Her mind was in turmoil as she slowly browsed the nick-nacks. Who was the woman who had welcomed Gabriel so warmly? Could it be the man had a sister? Or was he canoodling with another woman? What was he up to? Was it all to do with money as she believed it to be?

  Keeping an eye on the building through the window, Elizabeth inspected every item on the tables, chairs and in the cabinets. She had no idea how long Gabriel might be in that house, or if he would emerge at all.

  Feeling the saleswoman’s eyes on her, Elizabeth gushed, ‘So many pretty things to choose from!’

  The woman nodded and smiled as her eyes followed the customer around her shop.

  Knowing she would have to buy something to avert suspicion, Elizabeth picked up a small bowl garishly painted with bright colours. ‘Oh, how lovely – I’ll take it,’ she said, passing it over to be wrapped. Then she continued to scan more objects.

  Over the next half an hour Elizabeth bought a basket and filled it with bric-a-brac, all of which would be confined to the midden on her return home. She was paying for her purchases, thinking it was time to leave, when she caught a glimpse of movement through the window. Gabriel Short was on the move again.

  Waiting to be given her change, Elizabeth watched Gabriel pocket what she surmised was money before he stole a kiss, one that would most certainly not be given to a sister.

  Thanking the saleswoman, Elizabeth picked up her basket and left the shop, again opening her umbrella for shelter from the rain as well as from being seen.

  Right, Mr Short, where to next?

  Eventually Elizabeth saw the man she’d followed most of the day enter a small house in Rea Terrace. So that’s where you live is it?! Instinctively Elizabeth knew this was the home of Gabriel. A two up, two down property in an area badly in need of renovation. Cold and soaking wet, Elizabeth trundled away in search of a cabbie looking for a fare.

  With her umbrella down now against the rising wind, Elizabeth heard the voice before she saw the person.

  ‘Watch where you’m going with that bloody thing!’

  Moving the rain protector to the side Elizabeth saw the woman who spoke. ‘I’m so very sorry,’ she said.

  ‘Ar well, this bleedin’ weather is making everybody run for cover,’ the woman returned.

  With a glance at the basket Elizabeth said, ‘I was about to dispose of these little things and I didn’t see you.’ She manoeuvred the umbrella to shield them both.

  ‘Oh, don’t you want ’em then?’ the woman asked, peering into the carrier.

  ‘No. Would you like them? I don’t want anything for them,’ Elizabeth said, hoping the woman would take her up on the offer just so she could be rid of them.

  ‘Ooh, ta! That’s nice of yer.’ The woman grabbed the basket held out to her. ‘Thanks very much,’ she said as she hurried away in case the benefactor changed her mind.

  Elizabeth smiled and turned to go on her way. At the end of the street she looked around for a cab and sure enough one came towards her.

  ‘Cab, missus?’ the driver called out.

  ‘Yes, please,’ Elizabeth said. Not waiting for the driver to jump down and open the door for her, she scrambled inside herself.

  Calling out the address of her destination she settled down, her mind dwelling on Mr Short and his dubious visit.

  Early the following morning, Elizabeth called on her mother yet again.

  Sylvia couldn’t help but wonder why her daughter had arrived at such an early hour as she made tea for them both.

  Sat in the parlour now it was Sylvia who spoke first. ‘Whatever it is, it must be important for you to be here at this time in the morning.’

  ‘It is, Mother. I’ve been doing some investigating and on two occasions now, I have followed Gabriel Short and—’

  ‘You did what?!’ Sylvia was shocked by the revelation.

  ‘Calm down, Mother, please, and listen to what I have to say,’ Elizabeth said. ‘He’s a thief and a liar. I watched him steal from people in the market, Mother. I saw him visit another woman who he kissed as they stood on the doorstep. Before you say anything – it was not a kiss one would give a relative. I�
�m sorry, Mother, really I am.’

  ‘I bet you are! I imagine you gloated, thinking me a silly old woman!’ Sylvia was furious, both with her daughter for meddling and herself for falling for Gabriel’s charms.

  ‘Mother! How could you think such a thing? I was only trying to protect you.’

  ‘I see, but what have you gained by all this cloak and dagger behaviour? Nothing! Save hurting me, that is.’

  ‘I never meant for you to be hurt, besides it’s that man who has caused all this,’ Elizabeth said, feeling dreadful.

  ‘Are you quite sure about what you’ve told me?’ Sylvia asked.

  ‘Yes, I’m sorry to say I am,’ Elizabeth answered quietly.

  Mother and daughter stared at each other, then at length Sylvia dropped her chin onto her chest and nodded. ‘I am too. I’m afraid I rather fell for Gabriel like a silly schoolgirl.’

  ‘He was very charming to you, but he disliked me from the off. He knew I could see right through him and that made him wary of me and me wary of him,’ Elizabeth said gently, not wanting to make matters any worse than they already were.

  ‘Why though? What was his intention?’ Sylvia asked, but in her heart she knew the answer.

  ‘Money, Mother – yours to be precise.’

  ‘Oh, Elizabeth, I feel like such a fool!’ Sylvia said on a sob.

  ‘Mother, you clearly are not the only one to be taken in by his lies; the lady he visited is another. My question is, are there any more?’ Elizabeth watched as Sylvia’s eyes filled with tears.

  ‘Whatever shall I do?’ Sylvia sniffed. A melange of feelings raged in her mind. She was angry with Gabriel for what he had done and was hurt by him seeing another woman whilst promising Sylvia she was the only one for him. She felt foolish for believing him over her daughter, and ashamed for treating Elizabeth so badly throughout the whole debacle.

  ‘First of all, you mustn’t let that man into the house again. If he gets wind that we’re on to him, goodness knows what he might do. Then I suggest you and I visit this other friend of his to see how the land lies with her.’ Elizabeth waited whilst Sylvia brought her emotions under control.

  ‘What if she is a relative or a dear friend? We could have this all wrong, Elizabeth,’ Sylvia said, twisting her handkerchief in her fingers.

  ‘I don’t think we have, Mother, but either way we need to find out.’

  Sylvia nodded. ‘Can you remember where she lives?’

  ‘Yes, I made a note of the address. Come on, let’s go now and get it over and done with.’

  With a sigh, Sylvia got to her feet. Grabbing her coat and umbrella, the two left the house.

  The cabbie who had transported Elizabeth from home was waiting patiently. He helped the ladies into the carriage and tipped his hat when Elizabeth gave the address to be visited.

  As the cab pulled forward Sylvia muttered, ‘I hope we’re doing the right thing.’

  ‘We are, Mother, trust me,’ Elizabeth said.

  I may not be able to call a halt to your nefarious lifestyle, Mr Short, but I can put a spoke in your wheel regarding my mother and your other lady friend!

  Arthur had had no idea he was being tailed by Elizabeth Murray when he called on Ann Bradshaw. It was a spur of the moment decision and he was pleased to have been welcomed so warmly.

  A quick cup of tea, a few words of his undying love for her and Ann had handed over some much needed cash.

  She had begged him to stay a while longer but he’d told her he had business to conduct. He had promised to visit again before the week was out saying he was finding it impossible to stay away from her.

  He smiled as he sat at his kitchen table enjoying a leisurely breakfast. His best clothes were hanging on an airer to dry out after being caught in the deluge yesterday. It was of no importance, he hadn’t planned to venture out today anyway. He banked up the fire in the living room and slouched in the easy chair watching tiny orange flames lick around the black coal nuggets. The crackling fire was mesmerising and before long he began to doze. With a full belly and the heat in the small room, he fell into a deep sleep.

  But a few hours later Arthur was rudely woken by a banging on the back door. Rubbing the sleep from his eyes he grumbled his discontent as he pushed to his feet.

  ‘All right, all right! I’m coming – hold your bloody horses!’

  Opening the door Arthur gasped at the three women stood facing him.

  ‘Oh, bugger!’ he muttered.

  ‘Indeed!’ Elizabeth Murray replied.

  27

  It had taken Ezra two full days to recover from his illness and return to work. Once there he summoned one of the street urchins in his employ.

  The boy stood before him dressed in rags and smelling like he’d never had a wash in his life. His hair was long and matted and his hands and face were black with ingrained dirt. He was barefoot and his toenails were long and filthy. He sniffed loudly as he awaited instructions.

  ‘Take this note to Poppy at The Crown Saloon and wait for an answer,’ he said, before dismissing the lad with a wave of his hand.

  A short while later he read her reply and gasped. His note had said he would collect her that evening at seven o’clock but, much to his consternation, her reply had read, ‘Don’t bother’. What was going on? Why had she not accepted his offer to step out with him again? He had thought she’d enjoyed their last outing and would be eager to repeat it. Obviously not, but the reason escaped him. Maybe Nellie had put a stop to it by making Poppy work and refusing the girl permission for another night off.

  Screwing up the note, he pondered. Should he write another, asking her to explain herself, or should he visit her in person? He knew he would possibly not be welcomed at The Crown now, but with his henchmen around him he’d be safe enough.

  Throwing the ball of paper into the fire, Ezra sat at his desk debating what to do next.

  Pretty much all over Birmingham, Ezra Morton was known as a man not to be crossed. It wouldn’t be long before people speculated about his relationship with Poppy, and if it ever got out that she had spurned him he would be the laughing stock of the town.

  There must have been talk already about Nellie paying off her loan too, because his employees were struggling to collect monies owed. Folk were not paying up, saying they would inform the police if any bully-boy tactics were used. The townsfolk were suddenly aware that if they stood together against him, Ezra could do nothing.

  What had sparked this peasant revolt? Who had initiated it? Would this come to a war between his workforce and the men of the town? If so, how would it play out? Fighting in the street perhaps, or would his money collectors be ambushed and beaten senseless?

  Ezra felt the cold finger of fear crawl up his spine. The possibility of losing his position of power terrified him. Now, after all the years of hard work building up the reputation of being a man not to be trifled with, Ezra felt it slipping away.

  He banged his fist on the desk in utter frustration. No matter how he looked at this, he was sure Nellie Larkin had to be at the bottom of it, and even if she wasn’t – he needed someone to blame.

  Ezra scowled as he gave his mind to that woman being a well-respected member of the community. She had lived in the town all her life and was loved by a great many folk. Was it because she provided their favourite tipple? No, she was admired for who she was – a woman with a backbone and a wise head on her shoulders.

  Jumping out of his chair, Ezra marched from the office. ‘You and you, come with me,’ he said to two of his suited employees. Glancing at each other, the men trailed behind their boss as he stomped from the brewery.

  ‘Where are we going, gaffer?’ one asked.

  ‘The Crown Saloon,’ came the gruff answer.

  The men’s eyebrows shot up as they exchanged a surprised look.

  He took a cab the short distance to the glittering gin palace, and Ezra stopped outside the front door. He scowled as his minders bumped into him.

  ‘I have b
usiness in there so mind yourselves. I don’t want any trouble unless it cannot be avoided – understand?’

  ‘Yes, boss,’ the men chorused.

  Ezra nodded and turned back towards the door just as a fellow came hurtling out and landed hard on the cobbles.

  Shaking his head, Ezra sighed before pushing his way through the folk packed into the bar room, his men close behind him. His eyes searched the length of the counter for Poppy but she was nowhere to be seen.

  ‘Well now, here again, Ezra? And John and Jim Jenkins – it’s been a while. You were only kids when I last saw you.’ Redirecting her attention back to Ezra she asked, ‘What can I do for you this time?’ Nellie’s voice sailed above the noise of arguing customers.

  ‘I’m not here to see you,’ he replied curtly.

  ‘Fair enough. You come here to drink then?’ Nellie asked with a grin, all the while knowing exactly why he was visiting.

  ‘Where’s Poppy?’ he asked, ignoring her taunt.

  ‘She ain’t here,’ Nellie said, her hands resting on her hips.

  ‘Where’s she gone?’ Ezra pushed.

  ‘It ain’t none of your business.’ Nellie then banged her booted foot twice on the floor.

  Ezra frowned wondering why she was stomping the floorboards. A moment later he was rewarded with an answer as Frederick Dell appeared from the cellar.

  ‘Look, Nellie, I’m not here to cause a ruckus, I just want to speak to Poppy.’ Ezra nodded towards Fred as he spoke.

  ‘She don’t want to talk to you, Mr Morton,’ Fred said respectfully.

  ‘Now, Fred, this has nothing to do with you so why don’t you go back to your work?’

  ‘Sorry, Mr Morton, Nellie’s my boss now which means you can’t tell me what to do.’ The big man stood his ground and then he noticed Ezra’s companions. ‘Hey up, fellas, nice to see you!’

  The two grinned and nodded at Fred who had been their friend when they all worked together.

  Ezra turned to look at his men and saw their smiles quickly disappear. ‘This isn’t a bloody works outing – you’re supposed to be working!’ he snapped.