by Glynis Smy
Walking the market worked its magic as she wandered along the cobbled paths towards the bookshops. Excitement mounted, and hoped she would find a new book or magazine to read for her lesson that evening, a new book always gave her a thrill. She had several children's storybooks in her collection now. Her favourites were tatty copies of Black Beauty and Heidi; she could read each book without hesitation or prompts from Arthur. She read articles in The English Woman’s Domestic Magazine and prided herself on her ability to cope with some of the longer words. Arthur said it was time for her to work through harder material; she was ready for adult books. Today she would buy her first.
The cabbage water smells from the bookseller’s row always greeted Kitty first. The inadequate drainage added to the aroma and some of the storekeepers generated their own particular brand of body odour. Despite all of this, Kitty loved to linger and absorb the atmosphere. She strolled from box to shelf, from carefully displayed books to piled heaps of magazines, smiling and nodding her greetings to those who knew her along the way. On reaching her favourite shop, she smiled at the man sitting on a rickety chair by a shop doorway; an old friend.
‘Good morning, Mr Leiberwitz, how are you today?’
He was a Polish Jew, an immigrant of many years. He had brought his family with him to start a new life in England. They settled in Whitechapel. His passion was books, and his wife's - gossip. The pair were fond of the young girl who shared their love of the written word. They saved her fashion magazines and charged only a few pence.
Heskel Leiberwitz stood up and moved towards her, displaying a blackened-teeth smile. His hair hung in lank curls and his personal odour clung to his grubby clothes.
‘Shalom, Kitty my child, the day got brighter as you turned the corner. Come, come I have saved something special for you. It is good you called today. I collected some new books and there vas one vaiting just for you.’
‘You know me, Mr Leiberwitz. I cannot stay away.’ Kitty smiled. The old Jew shuffled into the shop and she followed.
The rooms were also part of his home. The place was dark and dim. Old newspapers were piled in the corner. Rickety wooden shelves were stacked with books of every shape and size. Kitty loved the shop, despite the shabby appearance. She spent hours browsing through the old collections.
‘Here you are.’ Her friend handed her the book.’ Now I am going to ask a thrupence for this little beauty.’ He held up his hands to fend off any objection she might have. ‘It vill last you a lifetime of pleasure. Vorth everything you spent on it.’ The old man hawked and spat into a bucket close by. Kitty flinched. Although he was a dear friend, the manners and grubby skin of the old man always turned her stomach. As soon as she saw what was sitting in the palm of his hands, manners and grubby skin were soon forgotten. There lay a slightly used, green book.
She put down her basket, removed her gloves and held out her hand, the little shop was hushed, time stood still. Heskel Leiberwitz broke the silence.
‘As soon as I saw it, I knew it vas for you. That Kitty girl will appreciate the colour before she looks at the book, I told my vife. There were two copies. I gave one to Mishke and saved this one for you. I think you vill agree, the price I charge is a good one. Yo, a good price Kitty?’
Kitty nodded her head, her eyes never leaving the small oblong item. She was delighted.
‘Oh I agree, this is wonderful and worth a thrupenny bit.’
She held it to her nose. She loved the smell of a book. This one had a musty smell, with a hint of perfume lingering from its previous owner. The gold pictures and black lettering were exquisite. She stroked the front cover, and then turned the pages; she let out a soft sigh. Delicate, cream paper pages each with a delicate leaf print greeted her. She skimmed the words; there were many she would need to practice. Reading slowly, Kitty made out it was published in somewhere called Boston. Further along there was a big word. It started with M, but was too complicated for her to read out loud. She would ask Arthur that night.
‘Thank you, Mr Leiberwitz. It is a treasure of a book; I look forward to reading it.’
She rummaged around in her little purse and pulled out her coin. She handed it to the man with a smile, placed the book into her basket, and replaced her gloves.
‘A mekaye, a pleasure little one.’
With one hand giving him support on the shelves, he guided her through the doorway. Kitty’s eyes adjusted to the light outside. Noises filled her ears once again. The two friends said their goodbyes.
The visit to the haberdashery also proved to be a profitable one. Clara Frost had been friends with her mother. Kitty worked on repairs and embroidery for Clara’s customers.
‘Hello, young Kitty. How are you? Oh, look. I have two new customers for you. I have their hats for repair here. My husband will drop them off tomorrow. He is coming your way.’
‘That is wonderful news, Clara.’
Kitty peered inside the first hat box. ‘I have just the lace for this one. I do enjoy bonnet repairs. Thank you for recommending me.’
‘Your work is of high quality, Kitty. It is a pleasure to share you with my customers. Are you still considering your own business?’
Kitty replaced the lid on the box. ‘I am. It will be a while yet. When I do, I will probably trade the other side of town. That way I will not poach your customers. If I am going to have a shop, I want one just like yours.’
‘That is good to hear. Even when you were little you loved rummaging through my button boxes. We will help each other, I am fond of my business; it was the best thing my father ever purchased. You will not have one to inherit as I did, so the work will be harder. You will do well though. I know you will. You deserve it, Kitty. You are a good girl. Lilly would be so proud.’
‘Thank you, Clara. I hope so, and yes, I aim to ensure I fulfil the dream she had for us both.’
Kitty had found some jet beads while Clara was talking, and waited for her to wrap them.
‘Thank you, Clara. If you have any more of these come in, please save them for me. They are perfect for mourning projects.’
‘Take care, my lovely, and I will see you when you return the hats.’
Kitty left the shop and took a slow walk along the labyrinth of stalls. She wove in and out of the maze, stopping now and then to chat with friends.
A young match girl with a tray on leather straps that hung around her neck called out a cheery hello.
Kitty’s next stop was a ribbon stall, where she bought a selection of new colours. She could never resist pretty ribbons. Happy with her well-spent morning, she set off for home.
‘Begging your pardon missus,’ Kitty turned to her right hand side to see who was addressing her.
A small boy of about eight years old looked up at her. His eyes opened as wide as they could get. Large brown ones filled with tears ‘could you spare us a coin or two, miss? I ain't 'ad no grub for days.’
It took Kitty a few seconds to realise she was being set up for a pickpocket, and swung her head towards her basket. She was in time to see a younger child running up the road; he had in his hand her precious book.
‘Thief. Stop. Come back boy, come here!’ she shouted out at the top of her voice.
Vendors realising what was happening called along the row to get him stopped. Kitty ran as fast as her clothing and basket would allow. The book was important to her; she was not going to let him get away with it. She stopped to catch her breath, resigned to the fact she had lost her precious item.
She thanked those around her, attempted to tidy her hair, patted her bonnet back into place, and headed for home. The market place held no joy for her any more. One small boy had ruined her day.
Within seconds, the boy was dumped without ceremony in at her feet. A small crowd had gathered, but as pickpockets were as regular as clockwork on market day, there was no real excitement to be had and the majority went about their business. Bemused she looked down at the boy, and then glanced up at his captor. A tall, young ma
n smiled at her.
‘I think you have something that belongs to this young lady, boy.’ The young man barked out the words, but his eyes held a twinkle for Kitty.
She judged him a little older than herself; he was certainly much taller, and well built.
‘I 'ain't done nuffin' wrong, she dropped it and me bruvver...oi, that bleedin' hurt!’ the boy rubbed his ear.
He had received a clout for his lie and appeared to learn a lesson.
‘I am sorry miss, here's ya book.’
He held it out to Kitty but the man intervened, reached down, and took it from him. While his captor offered the book back to the woman, he took his opportunity and ran.
‘Mm, Little Women, a favourite of my sister,’ said the hero of the moment.
Kitty had turned to watch the two boys run back through the market, when the man spoke to her she swung back to acknowledge him. He grinned and handed her the book.
‘Thank you sir, it is new to me today and I would have been disappointed to lose it so soon.’
Kitty put the book in her basket under some fabric, to ensure it would not be a temptation to other light-fingered children.
‘Thank you again, Mr?’ Kitty held out her hand.
‘Lockwood, James Lockwood, and the pleasure is all mine I can assure you.’
‘I think I have had enough excitement for one day and must be getting home. Thank you again Mr Lockwood.’
They shook hands, and Kitty stepped away from the eyes that had penetrated hers. Flustered, she needed to move away in order to compose herself. The man was handsome. Her mother would have used the term dashing. He had a manner about him, confidence was definitely one of his strong points, he was very sure of himself. He had held her hand longer than necessary, and she had not resisted. He was well off, but not exceptionally rich. She knew his suit was good quality cloth, but not top quality.
She had never given much thought to men. The men in her life were just there, they were part of her daily routine. She had never taken much notice of what they looked like; their facial features were something that belonged to them. There was nothing outstanding for Kitty to focus upon. The man, who had stood before her moments ago had altered that for her. She noticed his eyebrows, when he raised them at the young boy, were well groomed. When he spoke and ran his tongue over his lips to moisten them, her neck tingled. They were youthful and line free, they complimented the tanned shade of his face. She fought the urge to reach out and trace her finger over them. His flesh was taut around his jaw line and she enjoyed what she saw. The man had made an impression on her and yet confused her at the same time.
***
James had seen many women in the market before. His favourite pastime was to observe a well-shaped waist. Hair that was well groomed and dressed always impressed him. Cleanliness and poise in a woman often held his gaze for more than a moment. With Kitty, he noticed more. When he had shaken her hand, he had held it longer than was necessary. The girl was pretty and he wanted to linger in her company a little while longer. He felt sure he had seen her before but could not think where.
He bid her goodbye and watched her walk away. She walked with the grace and elegance of the rich, yet her clothing, although good quality, were not of the latest fashion. When she spoke, it was a soft tone, clear, but she was not one of the elite. She definitely did not have the coarseness of the majority of women from the area. He estimated she was around his age; she wore gloves so he could not see if she wore a wedding band. Her heart shaped face was familiar yet he could not place where he had seen it before. He fantasised she had a well shaped ankle. He imagined her young breasts would be well rounded and inviting. James stood and continued his fantasy until he could no longer see her. Disappointed, he turned to walk back through the market. As he did so he noticed a small package on the floor, fate had dealt him a lucky hand he might just have found the chance to see her again.
***
Kitty sensed she was being watched. It did not feel uncomfortable, and she wished she could turn around. She had enjoyed her brief encounter. While she walked, she thought about his voice. It was not a city dweller's voice; it had a slight twang sound to certain words. He had a country accent. Most probably one of the farmers visiting the livestock market. If that was the case, there might be a chance their paths could cross again. Not sure why this would matter to her, she chided herself for wishful thinking.
She visited Sarah before going straight to her home. Kitty was eager to show off her book, and relay her morning’s adventure. Her friend sat repairing garments.
‘So who or what has put a glow in your cheeks, Miss Kitty? Come on young lady. Tell me all. Goodness knows you have only been to the market. A few yards of ribbon have never brought colour to your cheeks before.’
Sarah patted the seat nearest hers. ‘Sit, come, and talk to me.’
Kitty obliged. She was laughing the whole time Sarah spoke. It was true; the brief encounter in the market square had put her in a good mood.
She relayed her meeting with Clara, and how the boy had conned her, and then stole her book.
Sarah looked at her in disbelief; she waggled her finger at Kitty. ‘You are telling me, a match girl, ribbon seller and a boy who steals your book, are the reason behind your good humour and twinkling eyes? I think not. Now come along, do not leave me gasping for the full story.’
Kitty threw back her head and laughed aloud. ‘Oh, Sarah. If you must know, there was a young man. About my age, and he rescued my book. His face seemed familiar, but I am not sure he lives around these parts. A farmer I would say, going by the looks of his clothes.’ She smiled coyly. ‘He was most charming.’
Sarah stood up and her movement made Kitty jump. ‘I knew it, I knew it. You could not fool me. So, did you get his card? What is his name?’
‘Sarah McKinley, you have a nose that will get you into trouble. His name was James Lockwood. That is all I know or am ever likely to know about him, so can we please change the subject.’
‘What a shame. Never mind. One day your prince will come.’ Sarah teased and Kitty pulled a face at her in reply.
‘What’s a shame? And why does she need a prince when she has me in her life?’ The male voice made them both jump. They turned to see Brady standing by the door. He sat at the table and Sarah placed a mug of tea in front of him. She placed her hand on his shoulder, and nodded toward the blushing young girl facing her.
‘Kitty here had a brief encounter with a young James Lockwood in the market this morning. He rescued her new book from a street thief and was quite the hero of the hour. Can you see the twinkle in her eye?’
‘Hero or not, he had better not encounter her while her father and I are around. We will have questions to ask the young pup.’ Brady laughed and caught the towel in one hand that Kitty had thrown at them.
‘You are both quite insane. In order to retain my sanity I must take my leave. And my father’s pie home.’ Kitty put on a false indignant voice and gathered her things.
She left their home in good spirits, walked the few steps to her own house, shooed away a group of children from the doorstep and unloaded her basket. As she did so she smiled, laid the book on the table, and stroked its cover. She mused over what an eventful morning it had been. A new book and an encounter with a handsome stranger.
Chapter 6
James Lockwood (The Boy: 1883)
Seventeen-year-old James was exhausted. He had walked miles and felt there was no end to his day. His father had returned from the farmer's market in Whitechapel, with a new flock of sheep. In order to learn the running of the farm, his father insisted his sons learned each area of farming. They needed to learn the value of livestock and crops.
James was now shepherd for the farm and had risen early in the morning to graze them. The weather was cold, the sky grey and his mood was low. Even the beauty of the countryside around him could not lift his spirits. His father had spent the evening berating him for not completing all his chores. H
e would not listen when James tried to explain it was because he had spent most of the day attending to a valuable sick calf. Nothing he ever did pleased his father, James tried so hard, more than his brother did, but to no avail, his father pushed him to limits he never knew existed.
Bessie, the young collie his father had gifted him when he took over the role of shepherd, ran ahead. He watched her run and sighed out loud as she ignored a correction call from him. She was not easy to train and appeared to lack the instincts of her mother; Tal was a natural born herder. He whistled and cajoled Bessie into doing the right thing, but she had a stubborn streak.
Today, she had shown her true colours and failed to round up several of the flock. She ran around the field and continued to ignore the calls from her master.
‘Come by.’
‘Stand.’
His voice rose, his mouth was dry from whistling. He pulled his water flask out from his backpack and took a long drink.
He called again.
‘Away to me.’
Instead of containing the flock as his words instructed, Bessie started to bark with excitement and she chased several young sheep, scattering the flock. All of the remaining sheep became nervous and scattered. They found their way out into the next meadow. James raced towards them, calling out instructions to anything that cared to listen.
‘Bessie, take time, take time.’
Nothing slowed the dog. She raced and barked regardless. James caught up with them, and could not believe what he saw.
The result of Bessie’s disobedience was that a ewe had panicked and fallen down a ravine, where it lay injured. The bleats from her grew weaker.
James had no choice; he needed to rescue the ewe. Animals of her quality cost a fortune to replace. He climbed down and tried to drag the injured animal back up the ravine and onto the pathway. He lost his foothold and slid back down, cursing loudly as he did so. The dog yapped above him and the rest of the flock bleated nervously, they moved on in the other direction, James whistled out instructions but Bessie still ignored his calls.