'I don't want 'im slobberin' abaht me,' she said; 'it gives me the sick, all this kissin' an' cuddlin'!'
She scarcely knew why she objected to his caresses; but they bored her and made her cross. But luckily the blessed institution of marriage came to her rescue, for Jim and his wife naturally had no particular desire to spend the afternoon together, and Liza, seeing a little embarrassment on their part, proposed that they should go for a walk together in the forest.
Jim agreed at once, and with pleasure, but Tom was dreadfully disappointed. He hadn't the courage to say anything, but he glared at Blakeston. Jim smiled benignly at him, and Tom began to sulk. Then they began a funny walk through the woods. Jim tried to go on with Liza, and Liza was not at all disinclined to this, for she had come to the conclusion that Jim, notwithstanding his 'cheek', was not ''alf a bad sort'. But Tom kept walking alongside of them, and as Jim slightly quickened his pace so as to get Liza on in front, Tom quickened his, and Mrs. Blakeston, who didn't want to be left behind, had to break into a little trot to keep up with them. Jim tried also to get Liza all to himself in the conversation, and let Tom see that he was out in the cold, but Tom would break in with cross, sulky remarks, just to make the others uncomfortable. Liza at last got rather vexed with him.
'Strikes me you got aht of bed the wrong way this mornin',' she said to him.
'Yer didn't think thet when yer said you'd come aht with me.' He emphasized the 'me'.
Liza shrugged her shoulders.
'You give me the 'ump,' she said. 'If yer wants ter mike a fool of yerself, you can go elsewhere an' do it.'
'I suppose yer want me ter go awy now,' he said angrily.
'I didn't say I did.'
'Arright, Liza, I won't stay where I'm not wanted.' And turning on his heel he marched off, striking through the underwood into the midst of the forest.
He felt extremely unhappy as he wandered on, and there was a choky feeling in his throat as he thought of Liza: she was very unkind and ungrateful, and he wished he had never come to Chingford. She might so easily have come for a walk with him instead of going with that beast of a Blakeston; she wouldn't ever do anything for him, and he hated her--but all the same, he was a poor foolish thing in love, and he began to feel that perhaps he had been a little exacting and a little forward to take offence. And then he wished he had never said anything, and he wanted so much to see her and make it up. He made his way back to Chingford, hoping she would not make him wait too long.
Liza was a little surprised when Tom turned and left them.
'Wot 'as 'e got the needle abaht?' she said.
'Why, 'e's jealous,' answered Jim, with a laugh.
'Tom jealous?'
'Yus; 'e's jealous of me.'
'Well, 'e ain't got no cause ter be jealous of anyone--that 'e ain't!' said Liza, and continued by telling him all about Tom: how he had wanted to marry her and she wouldn't have him, and how she had only agreed to come to Chingford with him on the understanding that she should preserve her entire freedom. Jim listened sympathetically, but his wife paid no attention; she was doubtless engaged in thought respecting her household or her family.
When they got back to Chingford they saw Tom standing in solitude looking at them. Liza was struck by the woebegone expression on his face; she felt she had been cruel to him, and leaving the Blakestons went up to him.
'I say, Tom,' she said, 'don't tike on so; I didn't mean it.'
He was bursting to apologize for his behaviour.
'Yer know, Tom,' she went on, 'I'm rather 'asty, an' I'm sorry I said wot I did.'
'Oh, Liza, you are good! You ain't cross with me?'
'Me? Na; it's you thet oughter be cross.'
'You are a good sort, Liza!'
'You ain't vexed with me?'
'Give me Liza every time; that's wot I say,' he answered, as his face lit up. 'Come along an' 'ave tea, an' then we'll go for a donkey-ride.'
The donkey-ride was a great success. Liza was a little afraid at first, so Tom walked by her side to take care of her, she screamed the moment the beast began to trot, and clutched hold of Tom to save herself from falling, and as he felt her hand on his shoulder, and heard her appealing cry: 'Oh, do 'old me! I'm fallin'!' he felt that he had never in his life been so deliciously happy. The whole party joined in, and it was proposed that they should have races; but in the first heat, when the donkeys broke into a canter, Liza fell off into Tom's arms and the donkeys scampered on without her.
'I know wot I'll do,' she said, when the runaway had been recovered. 'I'll ride 'im straddlewyse.'
'Garn!' said Sally, 'yer can't with petticoats.'
'Yus, I can, an' I will too!'
So another donkey was procured, this time with a man's saddle, and putting her foot in the stirrup, she cocked her leg over and took her seat triumphantly. Neither modesty nor bashfulness was to be reckoned among Liza's faults, and in this position she felt quite at ease.
'I'll git along arright now, Tom,' she said; 'you garn and git yerself a moke, and come an' jine in.'
The next race was perfectly uproarious. Liza kicked and beat her donkey with all her might, shrieking and laughing the white, and finally came in winner by a length. After that they felt rather warm and dry, and repaired to the public-house to restore themselves and talk over the excitements of the racecourse.
When they had drunk several pints of beer Liza and Sally, with their respective adorers and the Blakestons, walked round to find other means of amusing themselves; they were arrested by a coconut-shy.
'Oh, let's 'ave a shy!' said Liza, excitedly, at which the unlucky men had to pull out their coppers, while Sally and Liza made ludicrously bad shots at the coconuts.
'It looks so bloomin' easy,' said Liza, brushing up her hair, 'but I can't 'it the blasted thing. You 'ave a shot, Tom.'
He and Harry were equally unskilful, but Jim got three coconuts running, and the proprietors of the show began to look on him with some concern.
'You are a dab at it,' said Liza, in admiration.
They tried to induce Mrs. Blakeston to try her luck, but she stoutly refused.
'I don't old with such foolishness. It's wiste of money ter me,' she said.
'Na then, don't crack on, old tart,' remarked her husband, 'let's go an' eat the coconuts.'
There was one for each couple, and after the ladies had sucked the juice they divided them and added their respective shares to their dinners and teas. Supper came next. Again they fell to sausage-rolls, boiled eggs, and saveloys, and countless bottles of beer were added to those already drunk.
'I dunno 'ow many bottles of beer I've drunk--I've lost count,' said Liza; whereat there was a general laugh.
They still had an hour before the brake was to start back, and it was then the concertinas came in useful. They sat down on the grass, and the concert was begun by Harry, who played a solo; then there was a call for a song, and Jim stood up and sang that ancient ditty, 'O dem Golden Kippers, O'. There was no shyness in the company, and Liza, almost without being asked, gave another popular comic song. Then there was more concertina playing, and another demand for a song. Liza turned to Tom, who was sitting quietly by her side.
'Give us a song, old cock,' she said.
'I can't,' he answered. 'I'm not a singin' sort.' At which Blakeston got up and offered to sing again.
'Tom is rather a soft,' said Liza to herself, 'not like that cove Blakeston.'
They repaired to the public-house to have a few last drinks before the brake started, and when the horn blew to warn them, rather unsteadily, they proceeded to take their places.
Liza, as she scrambled up the steps, said: 'Well, I believe I'm boozed.'
The coachman had arrived at the melancholy stage of intoxication, and was sitting on his box holding his reins, with his head bent on his chest. He was thinking sadly of the long-lost days of his youth, and wishing he had been a better man.
Liza had no respect for such holy emotions, and she brought dow
n her fist on the crown of his hat, and bashed it over his eyes.
'Na then, old jellybelly,' she said, 'wot's the good of 'avin' a fice as long as a kite?'
He turned round and smote her.
'Jellybelly yerself!' said he.
'Puddin' fice!' she cried.
'Kite fice!'
'Boss eye!'
She was tremendously excited, laughing and singing, keeping the whole company in an uproar. In her jollity she had changed hats with Tom, and he in her big feathers made her shriek with laughter. When they started they began to sing 'For 'e's a jolly good feller', making the night resound with their noisy voices.
Liza and Tom and the Blakestons had got a seat together, Liza being between the two men. Tom was perfectly happy, and only wished that they might go on so for ever. Gradually as they drove along they became quieter, their singing ceased, and they talked in undertones. Some of them slept; Sally and her young man were leaning up against one another, slumbering quite peacefully. The night was beautiful, the sky still blue, very dark, scattered over with countless brilliant stars, and Liza, as she looked up at the heavens, felt a certain emotion, as if she wished to be taken in someone's arms, or feel some strong man's caress; and there was in her heart a strange sensation as though it were growing big. She stopped speaking, and all four were silent. Then slowly she felt Tom's arm steal round her waist, cautiously, as though it were afraid of being there; this time both she and Tom were happy. But suddenly there was a movement on the other side of her, a hand was advanced along her leg, and her hand was grasped and gently pressed. It was Jim Blakeston. She started a little and began trembling so that Tom noticed it, and whispered:
'You're cold, Liza.'
'Na, I'm not, Tom; it's only a sort of shiver thet went through me.'
His arm gave her waist a squeeze, and at the same time the big rough hand pressed her little one. And so she sat between them till they reached the 'Red Lion' in the Westminster Bridge Road, and Tom said to himself: 'I believe she does care for me after all.'
When they got down they all said good night, and Sally and Liza, with their respective slaves and the Blakestons, marched off homewards. At the corner of Vere Street Harry said to Tom and Blakeston:
'I say, you blokes, let's go an' 'ave another drink before closin' time.'
'I don't mind,' said Tom, 'after we've took the gals 'ome.'
'Then we shan't 'ave time, it's just on closin' time now.' answered Harry.
'Well, we can't leave 'em 'ere.'
'Yus, you can,' said Sally. 'No one'll run awy with us.'
Tom did not want to part from Liza, but she broke in with:
'Yus, go on, Tom. Sally an' me'll git along arright, an' you ain't got too much time.'
'Yus, good night, 'Arry,' said Sally to settle the matter.
'Good night, old gal,' he answered, 'give us another slobber.'
And she, not at all unwilling, surrendered herself to him, while he imprinted two sounding kisses on her cheeks.
'Good night, Tom,' said Liza, holding out her hand.
'Good night, Liza,' he answered, taking it, but looking very wistfully at her.
She understood, and with a kindly smile lifted up her face to him. He bent down and, taking her in his arms, kissed her passionately.
'You do kiss nice, Liza,' he said, making the others laugh.
'Thanks for tikin' me aht, old man,' she said as they parted.
'Arright, Liza,' he answered, and added, almost to himself: 'God bless yer!'
''Ulloa, Blakeston, ain't you comin'?' said Harry, seeing that Jim was walking off with his wife instead of joining him and Tom.
'Na,' he answered, 'I'm goin' 'ome. I've got ter be up at five ter-morrer.'
'You are a chap!' said Harry, disgustedly, strolling off with Tom to the pub, while the others made their way down the sleeping street.
The house where Sally lived came first, and she left them; then, walking a few yards more, they came to the Blakestons', and after a little talk at the door Liza bade the couple good night, and was left to walk the rest of the way home. The street was perfectly silent, and the lamp-posts, far apart, threw a dim light which only served to make Lisa realize her solitude. There was such a difference between the street at midday, with its swarms of people, and now, when there was neither sound nor soul besides herself, that even she was struck by it. The regular line of houses on either side, with the even pavements and straight, cemented road, seemed to her like some desert place, as if everyone were dead, or a fire had raged and left it all desolate. Suddenly she heard a footstep, she started and looked back. It was a man hurrying behind her, and in a moment she had recognized Jim. He beckoned to her, and in a low voice called:
'Liza!'
She stopped till he had come up to her.
'Wot 'ave yer come aht again for?' she said.
'I've come aht ter say good night to you, Liza,' he answered.
'But yer said good night a moment ago.'
'I wanted to say it again--properly.'
'Where's yer missus?'
'Oh, she's gone in. I said I was dry and was goin' ter 'ave a drink after all.'
'But she'll know yer didn't go ter the pub.'
'Na, she won't, she's gone straight upstairs to see after the kid. I wanted ter see yer alone, Liza.'
'Why?'
He didn't answer, but tried to take hold of her hand. She drew it away quickly. They walked in silence till they came to Liza's house.
'Good night,' said Liza.
'Won't you come for a little walk, Liza?'
'Tike care no one 'ears you,' she added, in a whisper, though why she whispered she did not know.
'Will yer?' he asked again.
'Na--you've got to get up at five.'
'Oh, I only said thet not ter go inter the pub with them.'
'So as yer might come 'ere with me?' asked Liza.
'Yus!'
'No, I'm not comin'. Good night.'
'Well, say good night nicely.'
'Wot d'yer mean?'
'Tom said you did kiss nice.'
She looked at him without speaking, and in a moment he had clasped his arms round her, almost lifting her off her feet, and kissed her. She turned her face away.
'Give us yer lips, Liza,' he whispered--'give us yer lips.'
He turned her face without resistance and kissed her on the mouth.
At last she tore herself from him, and opening the door slid away into the house.
6
Next morning on her way to the factory Liza came up with Sally. They were both of them rather stale and bedraggled after the day's outing; their fringes were ragged and untidily straying over their foreheads, their back hair, carelessly tied in a loose knot, fell over their necks and threatened completely to come down. Liza had not had time to put her hat on, and was holding it in her hand. Sally's was pinned on sideways, and she had to bash it down on her head every now and then to prevent its coming off. Cinderella herself was not more transformed than they were; but Cinderella even in her rags was virtuously tidy and patched up, while Sally had a great tear in her shabby dress, and Liza's stockings were falling over her boots.
'Wot cheer, Sal!' said Liza, when she caught her up.
'Oh, I 'ave got sich a 'ead on me this mornin'!' she remarked, turning round a pale face: heavily lined under the eyes.
'I don't feel too chirpy neither,' said Liza, sympathetically.
'I wish I 'adn't drunk so much beer,' added Sally, as a pang shot through her head.
'Oh, you'll be arright in a bit,' said Liza. Just then they heard the clock strike eight, and they began to run so that they might not miss getting their tokens and thereby their day's pay; they turned into the street at the end of which was the factory, and saw half a hundred women running like themselves to get in before it was too late.
All the morning Liza worked in a dead-and-alive sort of fashion, her head like a piece of lead with electric shocks going through it when she moved,
and her tongue and mouth hot and dry. At last lunch-time came.
'Come on, Sal,' said Liza, 'I'm goin' to 'ave a glass o' bitter. I can't stand this no longer.'
So they entered the public-house opposite, and in one draught finished their pots. Liza gave a long sigh of relief.
'That bucks you up, don't it?'
'I was dry! I ain't told yer yet, Liza, 'ave I? 'E got it aht last night.'
'Who d'yer mean?'
'Why, 'Arry. 'E spit it aht at last.'
'Arst yer ter nime the day?' said Liza, smiling.
'Thet's it.'
'And did yer?'
'Didn't I jest!' answered Sally, with some emphasis. 'I always told yer I'd git off before you.'
'Yus!' said Liza, thinking.
'Yer know, Liza, you'd better tike Tom; 'e ain't a bad sort.' She was quite patronizing.
'I'm goin' ter tike 'oo I like; an' it ain't nobody's business but mine.'
'Arright, Liza, don't get shirty over it; I don't mean no offence.'
'What d'yer say it for then?'
'Well, I thought as seeing as yer'd gone aht with 'im yesterday thet yer meant ter after all.'
''E wanted ter tike me; I didn't arsk 'im.'
'Well, I didn't arsk my 'Arry, either.'
'I never said yer did,' replied Liza.
'Oh, you've got the 'ump, you 'ave!' finished Sally, rather angrily.
The beer had restored Liza: she went back to work without a headache, and, except for a slight languor, feeling no worse for the previous day's debauch. As she worked on she began going over in her mind the events of the preceding day, and she found entwined in all her thoughts the burly person of Jim Blakeston. She saw him walking by her side in the Forest, presiding over the meals, playing the concertina, singing, joking, and finally, on the drive back, she felt the heavy form by her side, and the big, rough hand holding hers, while Tom's arm was round her waist. Tom! That was the first time he had entered her mind, and he sank into a shadow beside the other. Last of all she remembered the walk home from the pub, the good nights, and the rapid footsteps as Jim caught her up, and the kiss. She blushed and looked up quickly to see whether any of the girls were looking at her; she could not help thinking of that moment when he took her in his arms; she still felt the roughness of his beard pressing on her mouth. Her heart seemed to grow larger in her breast, and she caught for breath as she threw back her head as if to receive his lips again. A shudder ran through her from the vividness of the thought.
Liza of Lambeth Page 4