by Sam Michaels
‘I’ve got two bedrooms at home. You and Georgina can have one; my son, Jack, he can kip on the sofa. When you meet my old man, Percy, just try your best to ignore him. I do most of the time. He likes a drink but he’s harmless.’
‘Who does the baby belong to?’
‘Jack. His wife Sissy died this afternoon, just after this little one was born. My daughter-in-law was always feeble, God rest her soul. Now, one more thing… It’s very important that you never, never mention how we met or what I did for money. My family don’t know, and I’d like to keep it that way.’
‘I understand. What are we going to tell them then?’
‘I’ll say I knew your mum and we’ll make out you got attacked by some bloke and that’s how you got pregnant, but the baby was a stillborn.’
Ruby was walking alongside Dulcie now, and when she looked at the girl, she regretted mentioning a dead baby.
‘I wish it had been like that and then I wouldn’t feel so guilty,’ Ruby said sullenly.
‘I know, love, but put all that behind you now. What’s done is done,’ Dulcie said in a matter-of-fact tone.
The baby had been quiet for a while, but now began to squall again. There was no stopping her, so Dulcie drew Ruby into an empty shop doorway. She handed the baby to Ruby, noting her reluctance to hold her, but with no time for this sort of nonsense she said sharply, ‘She’s hungry and you need to feed her.’
‘What – here?’
‘Yes, just get on with it while I shield you as best I can.’
Once the baby was satisfied, they carried on home and though Ruby was the ideal solution, Dulcie began to worry. She thought Percy wouldn’t be sober for long enough to notice there was a new baby in the house, but Jack was bound to ask questions. She hoped he would never learn the truth. Jack lived hand to mouth, a robber, though an honourable one, but she was well aware the one thing he couldn’t abide were the whores who walked the streets and the perverts who used them.
*
Jack sat in his mother’s chair, bereft at the loss of his beautiful wife. He hoped his mother would be home soon and his baby safe and well. He couldn’t bear the thought of losing her too. She was the last little bit of Sissy that he had to hold on to. Georgina, a daughter. Funny, he always thought he’d have a son, and Sissy had been convinced she was carrying a boy. He’d have been better off with a lad. He could have taught him how to duck and dive just as Percy had shown him.
He looked across at the old man who hadn’t stirred, obliterated with ale. In fact, every time he’d seen him lately, Percy had been drunk or asleep. He had fond memories of the man and respected and loved him as his own father, but worried now that Percy had succumbed to the perils of the booze. He’d seen it all around him; women too, drunk, falling out of the pubs and sprawled in the streets. It was a common sight, the curse of the working classes, but until a few years ago, Percy had always appeared to be better than that.
He heard the front door open and jumped from the chair when his mother walked into the room carrying Georgina, who was now much quieter than she had been before they’d left.
‘Is she all right, Mum?’ he asked, then over his mother’s shoulder, he noticed a nervous-looking red-haired young woman.
‘She’s fine, Son. We stopped on our way here and gave her a feed. Pop upstairs and empty my bottom drawer. Just put the stuff on my bed for now, and bring the drawer down here, with a spare blanket. It’ll make a perfect little crib for this one.’
Jack glanced quizzically at the unknown woman as he passed her, then dashed up the stairs two at a time and came back down with the oak drawer, which he placed on a table under the window.
‘Jack, this is Ruby. She’ll be taking care of Georgina and staying in your old room. You’ll be down here, so you’ll need to go and collect your things from home,’ his mother said as she lined the drawer with the folded blanket before placing Georgina into it.
He hadn’t thought of moving back into his mother’s house, but it made sense, though he couldn’t face returning home just yet. Mrs Blundell had laid Sissy out, but he’d left his beloved wife all alone on their bed. He hadn’t wanted to, but Georgina was desperate for milk. He didn’t think he could face walking back into his room and seeing Sissy’s lifeless body again.
His mother must have read his mind because she said, ‘It’s all right, love. You stay here and get acquainted with Ruby. I’ll nip back to yours and pick up your things.’
Jack would have liked to allow his mum to do this for him, but he had his pride and knew he had to do it for himself. ‘Thanks, Mum, but I’ll go.’
‘Jack, you have been keeping up your penny policies, haven’t you?’ his mother asked suspiciously.
‘Yeah, of course, but I hoped I wouldn’t need it yet.’ From the first day he had his own money, his mother had installed in him the importance of paying into the Funeral Club. It hadn’t always been easy, and there had been many times when both he and Sissy had gone hungry to pay the penny, but it was better than the humiliation of a pauper’s burial. He never understood why, but it held such a stigma in these streets.
‘Good, now off you go, and bring back any food you’ve got at yours. My cupboards are empty.’
Jack glanced at his daughter, sleeping soundly, so innocent and unaware yet that her mother had died giving birth. Yes, she was beautiful, and had Sissy’s soft features, but once again, he thought to himself, she’d have been better off born a boy.
3
Weeks later, the sound of Georgina crying woke Ruby from her restless sleep. Her long, off-white nightshirt was drenched again with milk that had leaked from her full breasts. Dulcie had said she was like a cow and produced enough milk to feed all the babies in the street. It was probably true.
Wearily, she threw her legs over the side of the bed and yawned as she rubbed the night’s dried debris from her eyes. She noticed the sun was well up, and assumed it must be past nine, then she heard Dulcie clattering around downstairs in the kitchen.
Georgina was still crying, so Ruby quickly changed her clothes, then put the baby to her breast. She loathed doing it. She’d been feeding the child for three weeks now and it still turned her stomach, though the baby didn’t seem to notice and suckled happily.
Ruby turned her head and gazed out of the window at the clear blue sky. She couldn’t bring herself to look at the child as she fed her. It wasn’t her baby. It didn’t feel natural. She should be holding and nursing her own kin, and once again she recalled the same memory that haunted her dreams at night. The image of her newborn son, his blue eyes bulging as he fought for breath. There had been no noise, just the sound of her own horrified gasps as she’d pinched her child’s nose and held her hand over his tiny mouth until she was sure he was suffocated.
She’d wept when she’d killed him, tears of loss and remorse, and then sobbed when she’d buried his limp body in the lavender fields outside of town. But she’d vowed never to shed another tear and promised God she’d remain childless for the rest of her life.
Yet here she was, nourishing this baby, giving the infant life, when she’d taken away her own child’s. This was her penance. She glanced down at the baby in her arms and briefly admired her soft, black hair. She didn’t despise Georgina. It was herself she hated and couldn’t forgive.
Georgina caught Ruby’s eyes and stared into them, but before Ruby could look away she felt an odd tug in her womb. She was strangely overcome with emotion and suddenly felt a need to protect this child. The maternal feelings that she thought she’d buried with her son were suddenly reawakened, and her repulsion faded as love filled her heart.
Surprised at herself, she allowed Georgina’s tiny hand to curl round her finger. ‘Don’t worry, little one,’ she whispered, ‘I’ll always look after you.’
*
Dulcie was up early and busy boiling the large joint of bacon that Jack had brought home the night before. When he’d given it to her with one of his cheeky winks, she hadn’t ask
ed any questions about where it had come from. As though wanting the best for his daughter, he was proving himself to be a good provider for the family, though it was clear he was missing Sissy dreadfully. He’d been brave at her funeral, but she’d heard him crying at night. It was odd to hear a man bawling his eyes out. She’d never seen or heard either of her husbands or her father cry. Some would think her son was being a wimp, but she understood his pain. She’d felt it herself when Boris had passed. At least Jack was man enough to keep his woes to himself.
Ruby walked into the kitchen with Georgina in her arms.
‘Good morning, pet, you’re up later than usual,’ Dulcie said as she lifted the bacon from the saucepan.
‘Morning,’ Ruby chirped back. ‘Yes, this little bundle of joy didn’t wake up ’til half an hour ago. Mind you, she had me up twice in the night, so it was nice to have a bit of a lie-in. Something smells good. I take it Jack brought it home.’
Dulcie studied the small-framed girl. There was something distinctively different about her today. She had been so sullen and withdrawn, but this morning Dulcie noticed a glimmer of the girl she’d first met. The little flame-haired beaten mite, who despite everything her father had inflicted on her, had still managed to be funny, along with having an illuminating smile. ‘You know my Jack. Now sit yourself down and I’ll cut you off a bit of this bacon.’
Dulcie was pleased to see Ruby’s smile was back, and as she sliced into the joint, her mouth salivated. It had been a while since she’d eaten this well and now it was beginning to show on her expanding hips.
‘I can’t say I know Jack,’ Ruby said. ‘We live in the same house, but I hardly see him.’
‘He isn’t around much, but when he does turn up he’s rarely empty-handed. My Percy used to be the same,’ Dulcie said, ‘but those days are long gone and he’s in bed as usual. He won’t be up ’til lunchtime and then it’ll only be for a top-up. Jack’s gone off to the other side of the river. The rent’s due so he’s got some richer pickings in mind, not that he’ll divulge much to me, but I have known him to have the odd pocket watch in his possession from time to time. He flogs them to that Jewish jeweller up near the station.’
‘Don’t you ever worry about him getting caught?’
‘Nah, not my Jack. He’s too bleedin’ sharp. He learnt from the best. You wouldn’t believe it now, but Percy was the most successful robbing bastard round here. He’s never had his collar felt by the Old Bill, and my Jack’s following in his footsteps.’
Dulcie sliced herself some bacon and pulled a chunk of bread from a freshly baked loaf. She’d lied to Ruby, but she didn’t want to admit the truth. Yes, she was worried sick that Jack would get caught and thrown in jail. Her son was tough, he could handle it, but she’d have to go back to whoring, and that was something she never wanted to be forced to do again.
*
Jack’s heart was pumping hard, and adrenaline coursed through his veins. He enjoyed the feeling of anxious anticipation before he did a job, and it helped to take his mind off Sissy. As he milled around the smarter streets of Chelsea, he was pleased to find an abundance of wealthy gentlemen adorned in their bowler hats and going about their business.
He’d dressed in his best attire this morning, and appeared somewhat respectable, though he knew he looked out of place and kept his eyes open for the police. If they spotted him, he was bound to be questioned about his intentions.
He knew the place well and was familiar with the alleys and walkways that offered good escape routes. It was an area where Percy used to bring him when he was a nipper, and where he’d honed the art of pickpocketing. He wouldn’t be using his childhood skills today though, not now that his hands were too large and clumsy. His days of being a dipper were long behind him, and he rarely came over the bridge from Battersea. He thought it was quite a risk, but as he had family responsibilities, he’d decided to chance his luck.
Jack scanned the streets as he tried to appear inconspicuous. He walked with confidence and wore his flat cap pulled forward and low in a bid to hide his face.
It wasn’t long before he spotted a target. A lone middle-aged man, short with a paunch stomach. He was walking towards an alleyway that led to a maze of small mews. This was good. He doubted the man would be capable of giving chase, and he had no cane that could be used as a weapon to fight Jack off.
He began to follow the man and quickened his pace. As he drew closer, he glanced behind to see a woman pushing a pram on the other side of the street. Jack silently cursed. The man was almost adjacent with the alley. If he didn’t act now, he’d miss his opportunity. He quickly looked behind again. Thankfully, the woman had stopped and was busy seeing to the child. Now was his chance.
Jack purposely strode up alongside his target and shoved him heavily sideways into the alley.
‘What do you think you’re doing?’ the man snapped indignantly.
Jack opened his arms and caged the man against the alley wall. ‘Keep your mouth shut and you won’t get hurt,’ he growled.
‘How dare you! Get out of my way at once… I’ll have the police on to you, you filthy scoundrel.’
Jack didn’t like to use violence, but this bloke didn’t know when to shut up. He pulled his arm back, then punched the man hard in the stomach as he hissed, ‘I told you to keep your mouth shut.’
The man hunched over as he groaned in pain. Jack thought he’d probably winded him, but it’d done the job and stopped him from talking. ‘That’s better.’ He smiled wryly. ‘Now be a good man and empty your pockets.’
The wounded man handed over about seven pounds, a pocket watch and a silver hip flask.
‘Turn round and face the wall. I know who you are and where you live, so if I hear you call for help, I promise you I’ll come back and slit your throat from ear to ear.’ Jack gestured with his thumb across the man’s neck.
He looked visibly shaken, then quickly turned to face the wall. As soon as he did, Jack ran through the alleyway, and once out the other side he made his way through the mews and eventually to Albert Bridge. He paused momentarily to catch his breath, then with a skip in his step, headed back across the Thames to Battersea.
He’d been pleasantly surprised to have gained such a plentiful haul. The quality watch had been predictable; after all, no wealthy middle-class gent would leave home without one, but he hadn’t expected to have profited from so much ready cash. It was unlike men of his victim’s stature to carry any sizable amount of money. From what Jack knew, those sorts of chaps did most of their trading on account. Women were more likely to be carrying a purse, but he had his principles and would never knock off a lady.
An hour later, relaxed and confident he’d gotten away with daylight robbery, Jack was in the jeweller’s offering his newly acquired watch and flask to Falk the Fence.
‘Jack, you are a very bad man!’ Falk said as he examined the goods for sale.
‘I know, and I’ll never get to heaven. What do you think, Falk? Quality, ain’t they?’
‘Yes… yes… very nice. Very nice indeed. I can give you five guineas for the pair,’ Falk offered as he clasped his hands on his glass counter.
Jack spat his words out. ‘Five guineas. Come on, Falk, you can do better than that.’
‘Maybe,’ Falk said with a friendly grin, ‘but there’s a war on now you know. Six is my final offer. Take it or leave it.’
Falk was the only jeweller in the area who would willingly buy stolen goods, especially high-calibre items, but he chose his customers carefully and would only trade with a select few. He’d once told Percy that he swapped the pinched gear with his cousin in Manchester who also owned a jewellery shop and was a fence too. It was perfect; neither of them ever got nicked for handling or receiving, and they both made a tidy profit.
‘Well, you don’t leave me much choice, you scheming old sod. Deal,’ said Jack, and shook the man’s hand. He’d known Falk since he was knee-high to a grasshopper and was quite fond of him. Jack smiled
inwardly to himself. The bloke had a huge nose, but it seemed to be getting bigger with age. Falk must be knocking on nearly seventy, yet his dark eyes were as sharp as they had been when he was in his prime. It was known that he could spot a paste diamond a mile off.
‘Jack, I’m very sorry to hear about Sissy. If there’s anything I can do…’ Falk offered as he handed over the money.
Jack tried not to show it, but he baulked at the mention of his wife’s name. ‘Thanks, but we’re doing all right, and I’ve got a smashing little girl.’
‘Yes, I heard. Congratulations. But I do know how you must be feeling. You remember when my Talia passed away? I grieved for many, many months, and still today, all these years later. Do you know, I sometimes walk in my front door and call her name? Huh, silly old man. But you are young, Jack, with a good future – it will be different for you. So, your daughter, what is her name?’
Jack smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. ‘Georgina.’
‘A good name of Greek origin, I believe. Maybe one day she will meet my grandson,’ Falk said warmly.
‘Maybe,’ Jack agreed.
The goods and money were exchanged along with sociable farewells, then Jack headed for home, chuffed with his ample pockets of cash. Many moons had passed since he’d been this well off, but he longed to share his good fortune with his wife. If only Sissy was still here to reap the benefits of his day’s work, he thought mournfully. He’d have treated her like a princess and spoilt her rotten. Still, he knew his mother would be pleased when he offered up his coffers.
As he turned in to his street, he fingered the coins in his trouser pocket and a thought crossed his mind. He wondered how he could have been so preoccupied not to consider it before. With Percy being the way he was, how had his mother managed to pay the rent for all these years? He’d like to ask her, but he knew she’d bite his head off and tell him it was none of his bloody business. The woman had a sharp tongue, though having Georgina around seemed to have mellowed her… for now.