by Glynis Smy
'Ot water!’ his mother screeched back at him. ‘I will give ya ‘ot water.’
She strode over to a bucket in the corner of the room. With a stagger she lifted it and threw it over him. Her cackling, drunken laugh rang through his ears.
‘It was ‘ot when your pa used it last. Now get out of my sight, I got a client.’ She pushed him out of the one room cottage. He was wet and the smell of stale urine made him gag.
Arthur vowed that would be the last time she humiliated him. He decided to become independent. Whenever there was any food in the house, he prepared it for the three of them because the thought of his mother touching what he was going to eat with her filthy hands revolted him. Then, while his parents were passed out in a drunken stupor, he stole money from their pockets. Because he was proud, Arthur kept himself as clean as his conditions allowed. He observed the parents of his friends and compared them to his, his parents failed miserably. They showed him no affection and his resentment and hatred of them grew over the years.
When he was eleven, his mother staggered through the door.
‘Yer pa is dead. Time for you to set to work findin' me a new Thomas or two. Git down ta Binyards. Tell the landlord he can come and claim the rent tomorrow night. Buryin’ yer pa in the morning would not be proper to pay it today.’ She laughed and swirled her skirts in a suggestive manner.
Arthur was disgusted, but set about his duty. They needed a roof over their heads no matter how derelict. For a year after his father died, he worked the streets of Bethnal Green to keep himself secure and his mother in gin.
On his twelfth birthday his mother brought home a new man she claimed was to be her next husband. The man resented Arthur's presence and any time Arthur passed by him, he tormented the boy. A few nights later Arthur followed his mother when she went out. He crept amongst the shadows, weaving his way toward his goal. Without emotion he beat her to death with a splintered piece of wood. She lay amongst liquid sewerage and the rotting carcass of a cat.
The following morning Arthur claimed he found her body in the alleyway after she had failed to return home. Rumours set about that a paying customer had not got the satisfaction he sought. Only her boy, who sat eating a sweet bun on the steps of the public house, knew the truth. Arthur played the role of the distressed child well and enjoyed the attention he gained.
With no thought for Arthur, his mother’s new man moved on to another patch. The local authorities, on seeing the squalor the family had lived in, gave the boy a home in a newly established orphanage. His few years in their care placed him in the company of many people from all walks of life. He soon forgot the faces of the couple who had created him.
Arthur spent his youth getting to know the booksellers in the East End. Some fed him and others taught him to read and write in return for menial chores. He was bright and his willingness to learn soon helped him move into better circles. He was always eager to please and was eternally grateful to the adults who gave him an education. It was not wasted. A chance meeting with a journalist, Samuel Pipe, gave him a good grounding for a brighter future.
Samuel was not only a journalist he was also a note taker. He worked for a senior doctor at The London Hospital. He employed Arthur and trained him to take over his position when he retired.
One thing Arthur enjoyed most about working for Samuel was to roam the hospital. He was fascinated with diseases and disorders affecting the human body. He particularly enjoyed the viewing gallery of the operating theatre. He made friendships amongst the hospital staff and thus gained various privileges. Once he was not only able to watch but was also able to help with the dissection of a body. In exchange for this favour, Arthur wrote up the doctor’s notes and made diagrams of the procedure. This exchange was their secret.
After one particularly uplifting day, Arthur made the decision to study medicine. He began to devote every minute of his spare time to the project. He borrowed books and unofficially borrowed specimens from every section of the hospital. Not sure how he could enter medical school with no funding, he kept his ambition quiet. He mingled with influential hospital staff members and educated himself on as many medical topics as he could. He knew he had to be very careful about some of his activities. He asked questions in a discreet manner. He never openly said, but always hinted that his questions were for the library records. Thus, the hospital staff respected his questions and he learned through their answers.
His ultimate aim was to become a surgeon. He enjoyed the challenge and he saw no reason why he should not succeed. This was his fantasy world, the world where he excelled.
One day, Samuel asked him if he would tutor a fifteen-year-old girl. Arthur agreed. Two suppers a week and a shilling in his pocket would help him save for medical tuition, he reasoned. Arthur knew he was capable of teaching and Samuel had faith in his ability. Plus the company of an attractive young girl was not to be dismissed lightly.
Chapter 4
Mixed Feelings
They turned the corner into their street and Kitty sighed. Arthur and his bicycle were propped against the wall by her house. He was not expected and it frustrated Kitty. He deserved an explanation for her missing the lesson, but wished he had kept to their normal times. Arthur looked serious. He always looked serious, as if the whole world rested on his shoulders. Even now he did not greet them with a smile, just a nod.
She was grateful to Arthur for her education and friendship. She, Samuel, Arthur and her father ate a meal together twice a week prior to her lessons. They discussed the world and the news. She enjoyed the debates and facts that she learned, but Arthur’s extra visits were beginning to irritate. He would bring her a book or paper, with the excuse they may be of interest to her. Often they were, but when he showed her articles inside them, he had started to lean a little closer than necessary. It made her feel uncomfortable. She sighed again as he walked towards them. Sarah must have heard. Her friend looked to her, touched her hand to show she understood, and acknowledged Arthur.
‘Hello Arthur, you are early; a whole day early in fact.’
Arthur side kicked a stone into the gutter, as if he had not a care in the world.
‘Good afternoon Mrs McKinley and how are you and the family?’ He took off his cap and smoothed down his hair.
Sarah smiled at the gesture.’ I will be better when I get me boots off and a nice cuppa in my hand. You're welcome to join us Arthur.’
With the open invitation floating on the wind, Sarah carried on walking towards her home. She turned back to say something and saw a look in Arthur's eye, it was obvious to a blind man that he had become fond of his pupil.
‘Come on Kitty, I am parched.’
Kitty realised that Sarah was helping her out of an awkward situation; she must have guessed Kitty did not want to be alone with Arthur. She smiled and took up the invitation.
‘Make mine strong and hot. I hope you have some of those scones you made this morning. Come along, Arthur. Do not dally we are thirsty.’
Before he could say a word, Arthur found himself being jostled through the door. Inside the noise was deafening. Two of Sarah's sons were arguing, but in friendly banter. The third, Patrick, was trying to intervene. On seeing their mother he bellowed for them to be quiet.
He strode to Arthur, and shook his hand.
‘Ey up, Twiggy will know.’
‘Excuse me, Patrick. Hello and how are you?’ Kitty removed her bonnet and smiled at her friend.
‘Good day madam – now about this second murder down George's yard. Devlin here says she was a drunk. Pa say's ain't allowed to tell us nowt, so what you reckon?’
Arthur sat at the table ‘I think young Devlin might be right, Patrick. Most of the women down that way are heavy on the bottle.’
Patrick ducked as his mother swung the carpet beater close to his ear.
‘I care not if she was drunk, sober or the Bishop’s wife, you are not to talk of her in this house, do you hear me Patrick McKinley?’
H
er three sons were all known as the McKinley boys. They were in fact men, tall strapping men who adored their mother. Patrick and Devlin were twins aged twenty-two and Seamus was twenty-three; all three were baggage handlers at the docks. They worked hard and enjoyed life. But as big as they were, they never crossed their mother’s temper.
‘Your father is not out at work all day, worrying hisel' silly over me, Kitty and every woman around, and wanting to come home to his halfwit sons discussin' the habits of that unfortunate, dead woman. Now git yourselves out of my house and take your gossip with you.’
Sarah stood with one hand on her hip and the other pointing out of the door.
‘Kitty, save me. Save us from our wicked mother.’ Patrick called out in mock plea.
‘Save you? Give me the broom, Sarah.’ Sarah obliged.
With a laugh in her voice Kitty chased the men out of the door.
‘Kitty. Kitty. You have broken my poor Irish heart.’ Patrick called out as he followed his brothers.
‘It will mend, Patrick McKinley. It will mend. Now shoo.’
Arthur apologised to Sarah for not thinking.
‘Sit down and no fretting. That crew will keep this going for the sake of excitement. We do not need them gettin' all the women round here worked up. We are nervous enough without keep hearing it. My Brady goes awful quiet when it is mentioned. It was a terrible shock to the police. They never expected another one. She was a mess from what I understand.’
Kitty still giggling at the antics from Patrick, made tea. She gathered the tray and sat it on the table. Sarah removed her boots and slipped her feet into a pair of soft shoes.
‘Ah, shoes for a Queen. My feet bless the day you bought them for me, Kitty.’
Kitty had bartered with the ragman for them at the last visit; they were a little bit of luxury in Sarah's life of chaos.
‘I am sorry we missed each other last night, Kitty. I waited for a while but it was obvious you were delayed somewhere.’
‘No, Arthur. I am sorry I wasted your time. I was held up on one of my deliveries, and then I visited my mother’s grave. I understand you waited quite some time. I apologise.’
An awkward silence fell between the two. Kitty sipped her tea.
Sarah sensed a change of conversation was required.
‘Have you given any more thought about renting a shop, Kitty? By the way Arthur, this is not common gossip; William is not to be told yet.’
Arthur nodded towards Sarah, and turned his interest back to Kitty.
‘I am very determined it will happen this year. I have asked around about properties and will see what is available.’
‘It is a big step to take, Kitty. Do you think it is wise? A woman, on her own, in business?’
‘Arthur Twigg, women are finding their voices, and have been the back bone of business men for years. Their money and support are the only way some men have survived.’
‘Yes, I know but...’
‘Come now Arthur, there's no arguing with Kitty. You should know that by now. It is your fault, you taught her far too well.’
Kitty saw Arthur wink at Sarah, and a crinkle around his mouth gave away he was suppressing a smile.
‘Oh, Arthur you are teasing me, you joker!’
‘Yes, I am, sorry. You are good enough at book keeping now; there is no reason why a small business should not thrive with you in charge.’
Kitty was taken aback by his encouragement and she smiled at him.
‘Do you have many articles to write for The Strand this week Arthur?’
Both women nodded and smiled politely at his answers.
‘Did you have anything to do with this woman – the murder victim? I mean did you have to report on it or did Samuel do that?’
‘At first I had to gather the facts and take them to Samuel. He reads and approves all of my articles before they are published. I have gathered quite a lot of information from local policemen. I did see the body, and it was not a pretty sight. I learned a bit about the woman from some of the locals. Samuel was impressed with my work, and said I could submit it under my own name. Usually he gets the credit, but he is ready to retire and wants me to take over.’
Arthur gave a low, discreet cough. ‘It is a promotion of sorts.’
‘Oh, Arthur that is good news about the promotion. Not so much about the victim you understand. Poor you. To have seen her body. How terrible it must have been.’ Kitty was shocked, it was the first time he had mentioned any connection with the murder.
Sarah jumped up from her seat.
‘No time for idle chatter. I have a man coming home to eat and must prepare a feast. Now Master Twigg, you stayin' or you goin'?’
Startled by her abrupt movement, Arthur had stumbled to his feet, and then sat back on the chair. Kitty giggled.
‘Err, I am, I am off Mrs McKinley, I have an appointment at the hospital at five o’clock. I will see you tomorrow, Kitty. Try not to be late. Goodbye, Mrs McKinley, and thank you kindly for the tea.’
***
Arthur walked to the door and glanced back. He was hurt when he saw Kitty raise her eyebrow at Sarah. He thought he had made progress with her, yet she appeared to be mocking him. It hurt. She had become special to him. She was more than just a pupil and friend, he wanted her. She haunted his every waking hour.
He had been so obsessed with the need to see her before her lesson; he had skipped the chance of a story at the hospital. It was only a brief announcement for a journal he had created. Normally he would have been thrilled for the chance to write, but the need to see Kitty had taken precedence. He peddled furiously down the road; there would still be time to catch the doctor. Maybe there would be a chance to see an operation or borrow another medical book. Some of the new books in the library had pictures, increasing his fascination with the human form.
He put Kitty, and her raised eyebrow, from his mind and concentrated upon a pleasurable evening spent on his hobby.
Chapter 5
Market Day Moments
Kitty was annoyed with Arthur’s continuous habit of arriving unscheduled. She plucked up the courage to mention it to her father. He was getting ready for his night shift.
‘Papa, have you noticed Arthur is visiting outside of my lessons recently?’
Her father turned to look at her. He pulled a face.
‘Mm has this neckchief shrunk or is my neck getting thicker? What was that you said? Arthur is visiting too much?’ He laughed.
It irritated Kitty.
‘I see nothing amusing in what I have mentioned. Stop laughing, and come here. There is nothing wrong with the necktie. There.’ She pulled the ends tight. ‘That is for laughing at me. I am serious. He is beginning to annoy me. I have to stop my sewing and entertain him. Sarah has noticed too.’ She shook her head.
‘Wagging tongues are the last thing I need. Nor do I want his company on a daily basis. He can be so –so- boring.’
‘Come now, it must be your imagination. He brings you reading material, does he not?’
Kitty nodded.
‘That is acceptable. He is only adding to your lessons. He means no harm.’
‘It is not that he worries me, it is just irritating. Cannot you have a word with Samuel?’
‘And say what, pray? Can you stop Arthur from falling in love with my daughter?’ William burst out laughing.
Kitty was furious. ‘Father, please. I wish I had not said anything. As for Arthur falling in love with me. Wash your mouth out. What a thing to say.’
William raised his hands in mock surrender.
‘I had better stop. When you say Father in that tone of voice, it usually means trouble for me.’
Kitty was not happy with his response and served his breakfast cum supper, in silence. She cleaned and tidied away the dishes, and vented her mood on the mats as she beat them in the yard. Despite pounding out her frustration, she still felt a slight niggle of annoyance with her father. It frustrated her the way he had laughed at he
r concerns. William finished his meal and put the dishes by the sink.
‘I will be off to my bed. There are coins in the pot should you need any. Now no fretting yourself over young Arthur. He is lonely that is all.’
‘You’re right. I am probably being silly. Sleep well.’ Kitty said and turned back to her washing up.
She was not in the right frame of mind for sewing, so decided to cheer herself up with a trip around the market.
Spitalfields Market had the sounds and the smells of the countryside. Kitty spent many summers in Kent, during the hop harvest, when she was a child. She remembered fresh cut hay, and the earthy aroma of damp animals and soil. The smells were memories of the childhood she treasured. Today, the streets were loud and alive. The vendors called out their wares and the livestock added to the usual market day noises. Cockerels were crowing, regardless of the hour, cattle and sheep let the world hear their song, and horse drawn carriages clattered down the main street.
The market had become one of Kitty's favourite places, and her mood changed as she gathered fresh food for supper. She greeted stallholders she had known all her life. One young girl held out a grubby piece of lace.
‘I got some pretty lace scraps today, Kitty. Wanna see?’
Kitty stopped and pondered the various pieces. She selected a few.
‘I will take these, Florrie. They are just what I am looking for. Here you are.’
Kitty handed over a few coins. More than the lace was worth, but she knew she would earn the money back. A little scrub and they would look as good as new. She continued browsing the various stalls, buying a little item here and there. She treated her father to a twist of boiled sweets. He would tell her off for spending her money on him, but Kitty wanted to make amends for leaving the house in a sulky mood that morning.