The Constant Heart

by Dilly Court

  'Absolutely not! Mama would be beside herself with joy if she thought I might hook a rich husband.'

  A sudden commotion inside the parlour caused Sukey to fling the door open. 'What's going on? Oh, dear!'

  Rosina hurried into the room and found Ronnie sobbing hysterically as blood oozed from a scratch on his cheek.

  'It wasn't my fault,' Lillian said, pouting. 'He pulled the kitten's tail and it scratched him. Serves the little beast right.'

  Rosina dabbed Ronnie's cheek with her hanky. 'I think I'd better take them home.'

  'I'll ring for Gertie to see you out,' Sukey said, reaching for the embroidered bell pull.

  'There's no need to disturb her.' Rosina picked Ronnie up and cuddled him. 'Let's go to Mr Smilie's shop and see if he's got some sweeties that will make you feel better. We can take a look at baby Arthur and then we can tell your mama we've seen him and he is thriving.'

  'You'd better not come here again,' Mary said solemnly. 'Our dada said he would tell Gertie to slam the door in your face if you came knocking on it.'

  'Hush, Mary.' Sukey's fair eyebrows knotted together in a frown. 'That's not very polite.'

  'It's true though,' Lillian added gleefully. 'Our dada said he would sink the Ellie May and laugh as it went down to the bottom of the river.'

  'Lillian!' Sukey hurried Rosina and the children out of the parlour. 'I am so sorry. They shouldn't have repeated what they heard. I'm sure that Dada says things he doesn't mean.'

  'I expect he does.' Rosina laid her hand on Sukey's shoulder. 'But it doesn't affect our friendship, does it?'

  'Never,' Sukey said, kissing her on the cheek. 'Friends forever, Rosie May.'

  'Friends forever, Sukey Barnum.' Rosina was still smiling as she walked the boys to Sam Smilie's shop. He gave them twists of barley sugar and she was able to reassure herself that baby Arthur was doing well with Gladys as his wet nurse. When they arrived home, Rosina took the boys up to see their mother, and she was able to tell Caddie that her baby was being well looked after.

  Caddie's thin cheeks flushed a delicate shade of pink as she cuddled Ronnie and Alfie in her arms. 'Is there any sign of the Ellie May yet, Miss Rosina?'

  'Not yet, Caddie. But there are a couple of hours until high tide. I'm sure she'll haul into sight very soon, and then you'll have your Artie back home with you.'

  Caddie closed her eyes, but a smile played about her pale lips. 'Yes. Everything will be all right when Artie gets home.'

  Later that afternoon, while the boys took a nap on the truckle bed in Caddie's room, Rosina went to the office to look for Walter, but he was not there. Mindful of Bertha's strict rules about how a young lady should dress when she went out of doors, she went into the kitchen and fetched her bonnet and gloves. Bertha was asleep in her chair by the range, and Rosina moved stealthily so as not to wake her. The heat of early morning had become oppressive as the day had worn on. A hot wind sent eddies of dust spiralling into the sulphurous air, and rattled the stays on the ships moored alongside. The sky was heavy with storm clouds that seemed to hover just above the rooftops, colouring the waters of the Thames slate grey. She saw Walter standing on the wharf. He was staring eastwards, and, as she followed his gaze, Rosina let out a gasp of horror. She hurried to his side. 'Walter, is that the Ellie May? Surely, it can't be?'

  He glanced down at her, his jaw set in a tense line, his face ashen against the yellow-ochre sky. 'I can't be certain, but it looks like her.'

  Her fingers curled round his arm, digging into his flesh through the thick folds of his pea jacket. 'What can have happened? Please say it isn't the Ellie May. Not coming home in a dreadful state like that.'

  As the vessel came nearer, her worst fears were realised. The barge had a broken main mast and a gaping hole in the stern just above the water line. Rosina clung to Walter's arm, peering into the gathering gloom as huge drops of rain began to tumble from leaden clouds. She could just make out a familiar figure at the wheel – there was no mistaking Papa – and she uttered a cry of sheer relief. 'He's all right, Walter. Whatever went wrong, at least Papa was not harmed.'

  Walter gently disengaged her hand from his arm. 'Rosie, run to the wharfinger's office and ask him to muster some men to help. It looks as if there's been a terrible accident.'

  She stared up at him, barely able to see for the rain lashing in her face. 'But Papa is all right – you can see him at the wheel.'

  He pointed to a shape lying beneath a piece of tarpaulin. At first she thought it was a bundle of rope or a pile of sacks, but then she saw a clawed hand sticking out from beneath the rough cover. 'Oh, my God,' she cried, clapping her hand to her mouth. 'It can't be – not Artie.'

  'Don't look, Rosie.' Walter turned her gently towards the wharfinger's office. 'Get help.'

  Chapter Eight

  She was soaked to the skin, but Rosina was impervious to the cold and wet as she stood on the edge of the wharf watching the men lift Artie's body onto the same makeshift stretcher that had carried Caddie from her lodgings such a short time ago. The summer storm had already passed overhead. The sun was fighting its way through a featherbed of clouds, but the vagaries of the weather meant nothing to her compared to the unfolding tragedy aboard the ill-fated Ellie May.

  Walter was on deck in deep conversation with her father, and she had to wait until they climbed the ladder to join her on the wharf. She wanted to fling her arms around her father, but Edward's face was grey and he appeared to be dazed and disorientated: he seemed suddenly to be an old man.

  'Papa?' She took a step towards him, but there was no recognition in his eyes as he glanced at her and then turned his head away. It was like looking into the face of a stranger, and cold fingers of fear clutched at her heart.

  Walter was close behind him and he gave her a sympathetic smile. 'Your father has had a bad shock, Rosie. Take him home. I'll see to everything out here.'

  She linked Pa's hand through her arm, speaking to him in the tone she might have used for Ronnie or Alfie. 'Come with me, Papa. Let's go home.'

  He did not reply but he allowed her to lead him into the house. His clothes were sodden, and she could feel him trembling violently, or perhaps he was simply shivering: she could not tell which. Bertha was dozing in the chair by the fire, but she awakened with a start as they entered the kitchen. She leapt to her feet with a cry of dismay. 'God above! What happened?'

  Rosina helped her father to the chair that Bertha had just vacated. 'I don't know exactly, Bebe. There must have been some sort of collision on the water, and Artie . . .' Her voice broke on a sob. 'Oh, poor Caddie. Who is going to tell her?'

  'Do you mean he's . . .'

  'He was lying on deck covered with a tarpaulin. Oh, Bebe, it was awful. All I could see was his poor hand, all blue and stiff.'

  'He was a good man. God rest his soul!' Bertha rolled up her sleeves. 'But it's no use dwelling on what you can't alter, and we've the living to think of. The main thing is to get your pa out of them wet duds, and you too, missy. You won't help anyone if you goes down with the lung fever. I'll look after the captain; you go and change your clothes.' She reached for the brandy bottle, which she kept for emergencies on the mantelshelf. Without bothering to fetch a glass, Bertha pulled the cork and held the bottle to Edward's blue lips. 'Here, guvner. Take a sip of this.'

  Opening his mouth obediently, Edward drank the liquor. Almost immediately, spots of colour appeared on his cheeks. He stared up at Bertha, shaking his head. 'It all went wrong. Terrible accident, but it weren't no accident after all. Rammed me, he did. The bugger rammed me broadsides.'

  'Don't talk, guv. Drink some more and then we'll get you out of them wet things.' Bertha straightened up, glaring at Rosina. 'What? Are you still here? I thought I told you to go and change into some dry clothes. And fetch your pa's dressing robe while you're about it.'

  Rosina did not argue. She felt as she had when she was six years old and had fallen over the edge of the wharf into the river. Luckily, the tide
had been on the turn and the water was shallow, but she could still taste the stinking mud that had got into her mouth and ears and even up her nose. As she hurried upstairs to do Bertha's bidding, she could almost feel the sting of the cane across her backside – the punishment for playing too close to the water's edge.

  After taking her pa's robe down to the kitchen, Rosina returned to her bedroom, and stripping off her wet clothes she rubbed herself dry with the towel from her washstand. Caddie was uppermost in her thoughts now that she knew her pa was safe and being cared for. How would she break the news that Artie was dead? Coming so quickly after the traumatic birth of young Arthur, the shock might be too great for Caddie to bear. Rosina's fingers fumbled with the buttons at the front of her clean blouse and she realised that she was crying. She dashed the tears away on the back of her hand. She must not let Caddie see her with red eyes, or she would know instantly that there was something dreadfully amiss. She would have to tell her what had happened – but not just yet.

  She went downstairs and found that the kitchen was filled with people. It seemed as though the whole of the wharf community had gathered to offer their support in a time of trouble. Sam and Gladys were seated at the table with Mr Cotton, the wharfinger. The two apprentices, Bob and Fred, were propping up a wall and the dock foreman stood on his own, cap in hand. Higgins was standing with his back to the fire with Charlie, the landlord of the Turk's Head. They had all brought small gifts: pipe tobacco from Sam, a bottle of brandy from Mr Cotton, a poke of tea from Higgins, and a quart of ale from Charlie. Her father was seated on the chair by the fire, but Bertha had somehow managed to get him out of his wet things and into his robe. He seemed to have recovered somewhat and was responding to the questions that were being flung at him.

  Bertha stood behind him with her arms folded across her bosom. Rosina had a sudden vision of her as a guard dog ready to defend its master, and she had to stifle a hysterical giggle. There was nothing remotely funny in the situation, and even though the conversation was largely concerned with the tragic events, everyone was speaking at once, making it sound as though there was a party in progress. Rosina made her way over to Gladys, who was cradling Arthur in her arms. 'I'm glad you brought the baby, Mrs Smilie. I think Caddie will need to have all her children with her at this terrible time.'

  'Have you told her, ducks?'

  'No. Not yet.'

  Gladys placed the baby in Rosina's arms. 'Best do it soon.' She glanced over her shoulder as Ronnie and Alfie appeared in the doorway. She jerked her head in their direction. 'You know what they say about little pitchers having big ears, and we don't want them blurting it out.'

  'Will you come with me, Mrs Smilie? I don't think I can do it on my own.'

  Gladys patted her on the shoulder. 'Of course you can, ducks. You've always been a good friend to young Caddie. You can do it.'

  The atmosphere in the kitchen was thick with tobacco smoke as the men puffed away at their pipes and Mr Cotton smoked a fat cigar. Gladys gave her a meaningful look, jerking her head in the direction of upstairs, and Rosina knew that she must take the boys back to their mother. She was trying to persuade them to go with her but they were reluctant to leave the gathering; they were stubbornly clinging to a chair when Walter entered the room. She cast him a mute plea for help, but it was a little galling when the boys obeyed him instantly, flinging their arms around his neck and demanding to be carried up to the top of the house.

  'You have a way with them, Walter,' Rosina said grudgingly as they reached the door to Caddie's room.

  He smiled, setting the boys down on the floor. 'Would you like me to come in with you, Rosie?'

  She shook her head. This was something she must do alone. 'No. Thank you anyway, Walter. I'll try and break it gently.'

  'I'm sure you'll find the right words.'

  'How did it happen, Walter? I'll have to tell her something.'

  'They were caught in a storm downriver. I couldn't get the full story out of your father, but it seems they were in collision with the Curlew. The mast broke and Artie was hit by a falling spar. It was instantaneous – he wouldn't have known anything about it. You can tell Caddie that he didn't suffer.'

  'Dada.' Ronnie began to snivel. 'I want Dada.'

  Squaring her shoulders, Rosina took a deep breath. 'I'd best get this over before Caddie realises that something is wrong.'

  'I'll wait here,' Walter said gently. 'Call out if you need me.'

  They were all sobbing broken-heartedly: Caddie, Ronnie and Alfie. The baby was crying too, although he could not possibly have understood what was going on. Rosina had done everything she could to lessen the blow, but now she felt that Caddie needed time alone with her babies, and she slipped out of the room. She had forgotten that Walter had promised to wait; she did not expect him to be there, but when she saw him she burst into tears. He took her in his arms, allowing her to sob against his shoulder until she had spent her grief. Feeling a little embarrassed, she drew away from him, wiping her eyes on the handkerchief that he had produced from his breast pocket. 'I – I'm sorry, Walter. I didn't mean to cry all over you.'

  He smiled. 'That's all right. My jacket was too large for me anyway. It will fit much better now you've shrunk it for me.'

  This drew a gurgle of laughter from her. 'You are a fool, Walter.'

  'That is true.'

  She gave him a watery smile. 'No it's not. You are a good, kind man, and I don't know what we would do without you.'

  'Is Caddie going to be all right?'

  'I don't think she'll ever get over Artie's loss, she loved him so much, but she has her children. I suppose that must be some comfort to the poor soul.'

  'Come to the counting house with me,' Walter said in a low tone. 'I need to talk to you.'

  Downstairs, the noise from the kitchen seemed to be growing louder, but it was quiet in the office. Walter closed the door and motioned her to take a seat.

  'What is it, Walter? What is so urgent that it can't wait?'

  'I didn't want to tell you in front of the nippers, but Caddie's landlord has rented her rooms out to another tenant.'

  'That's dreadful. Artie would have been able to pay the rent if – if . . .'

  'No, I'm afraid he wouldn't.' Walter pulled up a chair and sat down beside her, taking her hand in his. 'You see, when the collision occurred, the Ellie May was holed above the water line. She didn't sink, but she did take on a lot of water and the cargo is ruined. There will be no money from this trip, Rosie. The repairs will cost a small fortune and business has been bad lately, as I think you know. I'm afraid that there are no funds to pay for the shipwright's work.'

  She stared at him, uncomprehending at first, until the full import of his words struck home. 'You mean – we're ruined?'

  'The outlook isn't good, but perhaps Captain May could find someone in the city who would lend him the finance to repair the boat. I would help if I could, but I have no income other than from my work here.'

  'Papa will do it, Walter. I know he will. Once he has got over the shock of the accident, and poor Artie's death – I'm sure he will be able to sort things out.'

  'Let's hope so.'

  'Papa can do anything when he sets his mind to it. And when it comes to repairing the damage to the Ellie May, he knows all the shipwrights in Wapping and Shadwell and probably as far away as Bow Creek. My papa will make everything come right.'

  'I'm sure you're right. I'm sorry if I worried you.'

  'You told me the truth, and for that I'm very grateful. Bebe and Papa are inclined to treat me like a child. They don't realise that I'm quite grown up now.'

  'Yes, indeed you are.' He smiled wryly as he rose to his feet. 'If you'll excuse me, I'd best take another look at the damage.'

  Rosina stood up, holding her hand out to him. 'Just tell me one thing, Walter. Are you certain that it was Captain Barnum's ship that rammed the Ellie May?'