The Lock-Keeper's Son

by Nancy Carson

  She spoke.

  ‘… The pale-faced men whose homes are where the sun doth rise, are come unto our shores once more in their white-winged canoes.’ Her voice and delivery were crystal clear, and in earnest.

  ‘They come to seize our lands – to slay—’ spoke the butcher again, rather too woodenly.

  ‘Though some were false,’ replied Pocahontas, ‘my father will not judge all harshly, I hope. Even amongst our own and other tribes there are oft wicked and deceitful men. So it may be with these. Yet in years past when they came to our shores before, you yourself told me, many stood eminent for their bravery.’

  ‘Thy voice breathes kindness ever. Pocahontas is her father’s dearest child.’

  ‘See, he’s talking about her as if she ain’t there,’ Marigold whispered to Algie. ‘Just like he did with me in his shop.’

  Algie was beginning to wonder if Harriet would ever appear. The story had progressed considerably, Pocahontas having met and fallen in love with the character Rolfe, played by Clarence Froggatt, just as they had seemingly done in real life. And by now the forest princess had been converted to Christianity, renamed Rebecca, transported with her English husband to England, and had been blessed with a child. Her costume too had changed. She was now dressed in the style of an English lady with all her lace and finery.

  It was indeed very close to the end when Harriet made her appearance as Mistress Alice. At once she spotted Algie on the front row and her eyes at that moment gleamed brightly at him, reflecting the specially hired arc lamps in a faint smile of acknowledgement. Then she noticed an extraordinarily pretty girl sitting attentively beside him, her arm linked through his … and she understood.

  Marigold was watching. At that precise moment, she looked at this girl who was playing the part of Mistress Alice, and could have sworn she detected a look – intended directly for Algie. Algie, meanwhile, glanced at Marigold, trying to discern whether she had noticed the barely concealed greeting.

  ‘D’you know that girl?’

  He nodded economically, turning his head for a brief glance and flashing her a reassuring smile.

  Maybe it was not the time to ask who she was, although Marigold didn’t think she had much to worry about, a girl with a face like that. Algie would only ever be interested in pretty girls, and this girl was anything but. She did have a good figure, though.

  And then came the end. Literally and with extreme poignancy.

  Pocahontas, dying, said to Rolfe, ‘I lose thee now. My eyes behold Virginia’s grassy turf … I hear my father … Husband, fare thee well. But we shall meet again – in heaven …’

  And there she died, in a strange land, leaving her little son and the husband she loved behind. Rolfe remained on one knee, clasping her hand and gazing upon her in utter despair.

  Algie heard a little sniff from Marigold and turned to her to see a tear trickling down her cheek. He squeezed her hand as the curtain swished to. Thunderous applause filled the auditorium. The curtain opened again and the entire cast were lined up, taking their bows.

  ‘Did you enjoy that?’ he asked, with a grin as proud as if he himself had been taking part, when the curtain closed for the last time.

  ‘Oh, it was lovely,’ she answered, wiping her tears with a handkerchief. ‘Wasn’t she good, your Kate? I can hardly believe it.’

  ‘She’s surprised me,’ he agreed. ‘She was ever so convincing.’

  ‘And she looked lovely in that costume, flaunting her lovely legs. It’s a pity us girls can’t flaunt our legs a bit more.’

  He laughed at that. ‘I don’t think the old ladies would be very impressed.’

  ‘Well, that’s ’cause the old ladies ain’t got nice legs anymore, have they, like us young girls? That’s why. That’s why they don’t want anybody to see nice legs on younger girls. Their men would turn and have a good look, then they’d have to have a moan at them for looking.’

  People were gathering in the aisles, queuing to get out into the cool night air. With an unspoken accord, Algie and Marigold tagged on to the end of the queue in the nearest aisle.

  ‘It’s a pity your mother couldn’t have come,’ she said. ‘She’d have loved to see that play. Especially her own daughter so good in it.’

  ‘It’s true,’ he sighed.

  Algie felt a gentle tug on his arm. He turned around to see Harriet, still in her stage costume.

  ‘Hello, Algie,’ she said, breathless. ‘I’m so glad you could come. Did you enjoy the play?’

  ‘It was great. I thought our Kate was very good.’

  ‘What did I tell you?’

  She’d already told him? When? Marigold was watching with piercing eyes, a look of indignation settling on her face.

  ‘We’re having a party afterwards at the Bell Hotel,’ Harriet blustered on, apparently heedless of his pretty companion, which irritated the pretty companion even more. ‘We’ve reserved the assembly rooms. Why don’t you come along? It should be very convivial. Kate and Clarence will be there. I’m certain she’ll want to wallow in everybody’s praise, including yours, Algie. I know I would, if I were her.’

  Algie looked at Marigold, but received only a stoney look which suggested he should decline the invitation.

  ‘I don’t know, Harriet. I ought to get back. My father isn’t very well and I want to see how he is.’

  ‘Then stay for just a short while. But do come.’

  ‘Harriet, this is Marigold. Marigold, this is Harriet, who I’ve told you about.’

  Marigold forced a very reluctant smile. ‘Hello, Harriet.’

  ‘How do you do, Marigold. I was beginning to wonder if Algie would ever introduce us. He’s already told me plenty about you, of course.’

  Had he? When?

  Marigold looked at him with that same urgent query in her eyes. But he seemed not to notice, and she heard him say, ‘Yes, all right, we’ll come. But we shan’t be able to stop for long.’

  Chapter 14

  It was drizzling with rain, and as Algie and Marigold stood at the top of the town hall steps they heard the clock above them strike ten. They were looking over a spread of bobbing and tilting umbrellas, whose taut, wet fabrics glistened in the gas lights.

  Algie led Marigold down the steps and they turned, heading towards the Bell Hotel at the other end of the town. Harriet’s words were still ringing sharply in Marigold’s ears, and she was eager to get away, keen to escape the suddenly oppressive atmosphere of the town hall, and into the cold outside air. Neither did she want to go to the party, for there she would encounter Harriet once more.

  ‘What did that Harriet mean when she said you’d already told her plenty about me? And when did she tell you how good your Kate was?’

  ‘Oh, a couple of weeks ago.’

  ‘You never said.’ She adjusted her mantle to keep out the rain, feeling slighted and deceived. ‘You should’ve said, Algie. Why didn’t you say?’

  ‘Why? So you could get queer about it?’

  ‘Well, I’m queer now, ’cause you hadn’t told me. How did you come to see her?’

  ‘I bumped into her.’

  ‘Where? How? Tell me. You don’t tell me anything.’

  He quickened his step to get away from a knot of people who were strolling leisurely along the pavement, volubly discussing the play. He had no wish that they become witnesses to an argument with Marigold. Marigold tripped along behind him agitatedly, under the impression he was trying to get away from her, but desperate to get her fears into the open and cleared up.

  ‘Tell me,’ she said again, when he had slowed down and she was walking at his side again.

  ‘There’s nothing to tell,’ he said. ‘I happened to see her one day and we talked for a while.’

  ‘So why didn’t you tell me? If you’d got nothing to hide, you could’ve told me.’

  ‘If I’d told you, you would’ve got queer in any case, like I said. Why should I invite your moans?’

  ‘You could’ve said, “
Oh, by the way, Marigold, I bumped into Harriet the other day and I told her all about you”, but you didn’t … Because you’ve got something to hide, I reckon.’

  ‘I’ve got nothing to hide,’ he insisted. ‘Anyway, Harriet’s still a friend. If I want to talk to her, why shouldn’t I?’

  ‘I didn’t like the way she looked down that long nose of hers with her squinty eyes, as if I’d just crawled out o’ the woodwork. Who does she think she is?’

  ‘I didn’t notice.’

  ‘Oh, now you’re taking her part,’ she complained ‘You ain’t being straight with me, Algie. You won’t look me in the eye. If you don’t tell me the truth, I’m going back home.’

  ‘No you’re not. You’re not walking through dark streets by yourself.’

  ‘Tell me the truth then, else I will.’

  ‘Lord! Women!’ he exclaimed, exasperated. ‘And if I tell you everything, will you let it drop?’

  ‘I might. It depends.’

  ‘Marigold, you’re driving me mad with your daft jealousy over Harriet. I swear, you’ve got no reason to be jealous.’

  ‘So you keep saying. So tell me everything.’

  ‘Well … when I got invited to Mr and Mrs Sampson’s house, I took her, because you weren’t here. I would’ve took you – course I would – if you’d been here.’

  ‘You took Harriet?’ Marigold was horrified. She remained silent for a second or two while the seriousness of what this implied sank in. ‘So they thought she was your girl, and I suppose you let ’em.’ Her indignation was rising inexorably.

  ‘It wasn’t like that, Marigold. I explained that she wasn’t my girl, just a friend. In fact, I told them all about you.’

  ‘So how did you arrange it if you don’t ever see her, like you always say you don’t?’ she persisted, determined not to be put off. ‘Did you write her a letter, or what?’ She asked the question with the frustration of her own inability to read and write evident in her tone.

  ‘No, I didn’t write. In the first place I asked our Kate to go with me. She was my first choice after you. But she couldn’t go either, ’cause she was going to a swells do with Clarence. It was Kate who suggested I take Harriet instead, and she asked her for me.’

  ‘I always had an idea as your Kate didn’t like me.’

  ‘Oh, don’t be daft.’ He rolled his eyes at her apparent wish to misconstrue everything. ‘It just seemed a good idea at the time … I was expected to turn up with a girl … with you. I would much rather it had been you. But you weren’t here, were you?’

  ‘Algie, I can’t believe you done that, after all you said about how you ain’t interested in her. It was lies, lies, lies, all the time. Right from the beginning, lies.’ Tears, a liquid blend of hurt and anger, were glistening in her eyes.

  ‘Don’t get upset, Marigold—’

  ‘What d’you expect?’ she sniffed, bitterly aggrieved and wounded. ‘You’ve lied. You’ve lied to me all along … took me for a mawkin … and I’ve been daft enough to fall for it. I’ve been dead straight with you, an’ all. I ain’t never looked at another chap since we started going out, but I ain’t been short of offers, I can tell yer.’

  ‘I’m sorry, Marigold. But it meant nothing—’

  ‘I bet you kissed her goodnight, as well.’

  ‘Course I didn’t.’

  ‘I don’t believe you. Look at you … I can tell when you’re lying, Algie. You’re a rotten liar … I’m going home.’

  She turned with the intention of running across the road to escape him. A hundred yards away, a tramcar was huffing its way towards Stourbridge, carrying people who had just turned out of the town hall. Algie caught Marigold’s arm and prevented her from leaving.

  ‘You’re upset, Marigold. I can see that. Honest to God, my seeing Harriet meant nothing, you have to believe me. She was just handy at the time. I used her, I suppose. It’s you I want, it’s you I love. Not Harriet.’

  ‘You been distant with me ever since I seen you at dinnertime, as if you got somebody else on your mind, Algie Stokes. I ain’t daft, you know. I can read you like a book.’

  ‘You are being daft, Marigold,’ he argued guiltily.

  ‘If you don’t want me no more, why don’t you just come out with it and say so? Anyway, I don’t want to go to this party with her there – Miss Squinty-eyes – having a laugh at me behind me back.’

  ‘She won’t be laughing at you. She isn’t like that. Anyway, we don’t even have to speak to her again.’

  ‘I’m finished with you, Algie Stokes,’ Marigold said with sudden decisiveness. ‘So you can please yourself what you do. I ain’t playing second fiddle to nobody, least of all her. You ain’t treating me like some rubbing rag. There’s plenty other fish in the sea, you know.’

  The tramcar and its steam engine passed them, clanking and hissing, its iron wheels growling over the iron rails at the bend in the road where the rails of the single track split into two to form a double track. Here, trams coming from the opposite direction could pass.

  Then something terrifyingly unexpected happened. The engine that was drawing the tramcar swerved, taking the right hand curve instead of the straight, but the tramcar itself was guided onto the straight. Engine and tramcar were taking two different lines.

  ‘Get back!’ Algie shouted as he realised what was happening, and shoved Marigold away.

  The tramcar began to tilt, very slowly at first, as the tension on the linkage between it and the engine became critical.

  They were directly beneath it.

  Marigold had hesitated, but Algie had the presence of mind to grab her hand, and he pulled her back along the pavement, out of harm’s way. They both turned in horror to see what was happening.

  He believed there was a chance that the tram’s centre of gravity would pull it back upright, and it teetered for a few seconds as if deciding which way to go. But then, as the weight of its cargo of passengers shifted in anticipation of the inevitable, it tilted further and toppled over. As it crashed to the ground, just missing the buildings that lined the pavement, there was the terrifying sound of smashing glass, squeals from the passengers inside and gasps of horror from passers-by.

  ‘My God! Watch out for flying glass, Marigold.’ Algie held his arm out as a barrier to protect her as he watched the tram topple, like a huge felled animal. ‘Jesus Christ! There’ll be folk maimed here. We’ll have to help get ’em out … Look, Marigold, go back along the road and tell everybody you meet that help’s needed.’

  ‘Should I ask if anybody’s a doctor?’

  ‘Yes. Good idea.’

  Marigold hurried off in the direction from which they’d come.

  High Street was suddenly in uproar. People were trying desperately to scramble from the wreckage, screaming and shouting. Women were crying, clambering out whichever way they could, while the steam engine, which had also been dragged onto its side by the weight of the tramcar toppling over, was still huffing and puffing with the driver still inside, trying to shut off the steam. Algie rushed to a young woman who was frantically trying to limber up through a window on the upper deck. He climbed onto the upturned side of the tram and held his hand out to her. She took it, holding on while she scrambled through. Then he slid down the roof of the tram and caught her in his arms as she followed him. She thanked him with overwhelming gratitude, and he could see her gloveless hands were torn and bleeding, lacerated by the window’s broken glass.

  ‘You need to get those cuts seen to,’ he said kindly. ‘Let’s hope there’ll be a doctor here soon. I bet you’ll need stitches.’

  She nodded, unable or unwilling to speak again.

  ‘Why don’t you sit down on that step?’ he suggested. ‘Are you by yourself?’

  The young woman shook her head. ‘My husband is in there as well. I hope he’s not badly hurt.’

  ‘I’ll have a look for you.’

  He clambered up onto the side of the tram once more but with all the folk desperate to escap
e it was impossible to know who the woman’s husband was. Another woman was struggling to push a child out who was crying, terrified. It was a little girl. He took the child’s hands and pulled her out, cut and bleeding, then bade her to sit tight on the metal skin of the tram’s side while she waited for him to pull out her mother. Everybody was waiting their turn to clamber out, but nobody seemed to be seriously injured, suffering only from shock, lacerations and a few bruises. They urgently needed a doctor to sew up the worst of the cuts and administer some surgical spirit to clean them up.

  A myriad of folk, many of whom had been to see the play and were walking home, gathered and wondered in disbelief at the toppled tram. A policeman arrived, then another, and they took charge of things.

  Algie had no idea how long he’d been there when he saw the dogcart bearing Clarence Froggatt and Kate heading towards the Bell Hotel and their celebration party. They stopped as Algie waved them down.

  ‘What the devil happened?’ Kate asked.

  Algie explained what he’d witnessed. ‘Some of these folk need medical attention, Clarence. Mostly cuts, I reckon, but one or two are shocked stupid. I think you ought to fetch your father.’

  ‘I think so, too,’ he agreed, and hastily arranged to see Kate later in the assembly rooms of the Bell. He turned the dogcart round and sped off.

  ‘Have you seen Marigold?’ Algie asked Kate as she stood beside him surveying the wreckage.

  ‘No. Why?’

  ‘I sent her to get help. Damn. Where the hell has she got to?’

  ‘If you sent her to get help, maybe that’s what she’s doing, Algie. Don’t fret. She’ll be back in a trice.’

  ‘But we had a row.’

  ‘Oh, me and Clarence are always having rows. Everybody has rows. She’ll have calmed down a bit when she gets back.’

  Algie rolled his eyes with frustration. ‘I hope so … You were good tonight, our Kate,’ he felt bound to say. ‘We both enjoyed it.’

  ‘Struth! Praise, from my own dear brother.’

  ‘Why don’t you get off to the Bell, away from all this, and I’ll see you later when I’ve found Marigold. I shan’t stay long, though – I want to see how Father is.’