by Dilly Court
Augustus and Ronnie, followed by the O’Malleys with their sleeves rolled up and their hands fisted, advanced across the floor to stand at the foot of the stairs.
‘We don’t want trouble, mister.’ Augustus put his foot on the bottom step, glaring up at Jared. ‘But harm one hair of that young person’s head and you’ll have us to deal with.’
Jared took Clemency by the hand. ‘No harm will come to Miss Skinner. I suggest you all get about your business, or you men will be needing to look for new jobs as well as new homes.’
‘What do you want with me?’ Clemency demanded, as he led her to the top of the stairs.
Jared opened the baize door. ‘Come out into the passage where it’s quiet and we can talk.’
‘I’ve nothing to say to a scoundrel like you.’ Clemency wrenched her hand from his grasp. ‘You may look and sound like a gent, but I ain’t forgot that you tried to keep me against me will. And you threw that poor girl out onto the street, just because she was in the family way.’
‘You should get your facts straight before you come out with such wild accusations.’
‘You may talk like a lawyer, but you’re just a magsman. A common criminal done up like a toff. You’re nothing but a crook.’
Jared threw back his head and laughed. The sound echoed off the high ceilings, bounced off the cornices and dissipated up the stair well. ‘It takes one to know one, my dear.’
‘I ain’t on the dip now. I’ve given all that up.’ She eyed him suspiciously. ‘What d’you want with me? And how did you know I was here?’
‘I had no idea that you were here. It wasn’t until I saw that flaming-red mop of yours that I realised I had found you. Do you realise, Miss Clemency Skinner, that I’ve been looking for you ever since you ran off as if the devil himself was after you?’
‘You might be the devil for all I know.’
‘You aren’t a bit afraid of me, are you, Clemency?’
‘I ain’t afraid of no one, least of all a dandified cove with a big mouth.’
He ruffled her hair. ‘You’re a bold one and that’s exactly why I want you to come and work for me. I could train you to dip the pockets at fashionable gatherings, theatres and racecourses. With a few fine feathers and some lessons in manners, I could even pass you off as a lady.’
Clemency angled her head, studying his aquiline features for the first time. He was not exactly handsome, but he had the aristocratic looks of a toff, and the voice to match. When he smiled, he was actually quite passable looking, but she neither liked nor trusted him. ‘Why would a toff like you need to steal off other rich folk?’
‘Owning property in Spitalfields is more of a burden than a boon. As to the other – I do it for my own enjoyment. I don’t think of it as stealing, more the redistribution of wealth. I take from the rich and give to the poor and needy. What do you say, Clemency? Are you with me? I could turn you into a young lady.’
‘You,’ Clemency said, cocking a snook at him, ‘can kiss my arse.’ She had the satisfaction of seeing the smile wiped off his face. She turned on her heel and slammed through the baize door.
In the kitchen, she found Edith squatting on the floor by the prostrate figure of Mrs Blunt, while Fancy wafted the burning tail feathers of a boiling fowl beneath Mrs Blunt’s nose. There was no sign of the O’Malley brothers or the dockers, who had all apparently escaped through the door that led into the area. The dancers and the lady type-writer, twittering like caged birds, hurried past Clemency and made their way up the stairs. Augustus and Ronnie were seated at one of the tables, in deep conversation with Jack, and Tom sat glumly, peering at them from beneath his swollen eyelids. Unusually silent, Lucilla sat by his side holding his hand.
Fancy looked up and scowled at Clemency as she descended the staircase. ‘You keep fine company, I must say.’ She dropped the burning feathers on the flagstones and stamped on them. ‘But I suppose you’ll be all right. When we’re all thrown out on the street, you’ll be living with your fancy bloke.’
‘You’re the only fancy one round here,’ Clemency shot back at her, ‘and he ain’t my bloke.’
‘So what was you talking about? I bet it weren’t the weather.’
‘You got a dirty mind, Fancy, if that’s your real name. Or didn’t they give you one in the orphanage? Was you just a number? Perhaps that accounts for you being such a spiteful bitch.’
Fancy’s eyes narrowed to cat-like slits. ‘I got a name, and I ain’t no bitch. I was left on the steps of the foundling hospital one Good Friday and the nurse said, “Fancy that! A beautiful little girl abandoned on such a day. We’ll name her Fancy Friday.” And if you dares to laugh, Clemency Skinner, I’ll tug your carroty hair out, strand by strand.’
Jack turned his head and smiled at her. ‘That’s a lovely name.’
Turning her back on Mrs Blunt, who was coughing and retching on the fumes of burnt feathers, Fancy left her side and sashayed over to stand by him. ‘Ta, Jack. You’re a gent. Not like her.’ She jerked her thumb in Clemency’s direction. ‘She’s a cow.’
‘Clemmie’s all right,’ Jack said, taking Fancy’s hand in his. ‘I wants you two girls to be friends. We all got to stick together, considering that bloke, Stone, is going to sell the house over our heads.’
‘It might never happen.’ Clemency helped Mrs Blunt to her feet. ‘He just said he was considering it, Jack.’
‘I’m ruined,’ Mrs Blunt wept. ‘I’ll never find another place at my age. I’ll be left to join them crawlers what sit in shop doorways and beg for scraps of food and cups of tea.’
‘Shut up moaning, you silly mare.’ Edith sat back on her heels, clutching her head. ‘I got navvies with picks drilling inside me skull. And your weeping and wailing is making it worse.’
‘Ladies, ladies.’ Augustus rose to his feet. ‘Let’s take one problem at a time. Fancy, my dear, be a good girl and make us all a fresh brew of tea. I’m sure that Mrs Blunt and Mrs Skinner would feel all the better for a cup of Rosie Lee. And I believe I have a bottle of Dr Collis Browne’s Chlorodyne medicine in my valise. Suitable, so the label says, for curing everything from cholera to hysteria. Lucilla, my precious, if you could tear yourself away from Tom for a moment, would you go to my room and fetch the said medication?’
Lucilla looked as though she might refuse, but Tom mumbled something in her ear and she got up from the table. ‘All right, Daddy. But only if Tom can have some too.’
‘Of course,’ Augustus said, waving his hand. ‘Happy to oblige. And a spoonful might help to relieve Edith’s sore head as well.’
‘A drop of gin would do the trick,’ Edith muttered. ‘Help me up, Clemmie.’
‘Ma,’ Clemency whispered in her ear, as she helped her up, ‘you got to stop drinking. It’s doing you no good, and we got enough problems without you falling down drunk all the time.’
Edith drew herself upright, pushing Clemency away. ‘You ungrateful child. Haven’t I done dreadful things just to keep a roof over our heads? And all you can do is criticise me for wanting a drop of tiddley now and then to relieve the heartache of a deserted woman, left with a daughter and a crippled child to raise.’
‘Be quiet you foolish woman.’ Mrs Blunt’s hands flew to her hair to push back tendrils that had escaped from her bun. ‘Think yourself lucky that you have two children. I and my dear departed was never blessed with issue, and look at me now, working me fingers to the bone to run a respectable lodging house, and about to have it taken away from me. I’ll have nothing and no one to call me own.’ She clutched her hands to her chest, and fell to the floor in a dead faint.
‘Now look what you’ve done,’ Augustus said wearily. ‘She’s the best cook in Spitalfields, and you’ve done for her with your silly squabbles. Who’s going to cook our dinner now?’
‘Well, it ain’t me,’ Edith said, running her hand through her tangled mop of hair. ‘Give me some money, Clemmie. I’m going to the pub.’
‘Don’t give it her,’ Jack sho
uted.
Clemency backed away. ‘No, Ma. I haven’t got any money, and even if I had, I wouldn’t give it to you. Anyway, the Ripper might be lurking outside, looking for his next victim.’
‘I got to have a drink.’ Edith lunged towards Clemency. ‘Give me some money. I ain’t frightened of the Ripper.’
‘No, Ma, but you are scared of Hardiman. I saw him in the Crown and Anchor last night. And I’m almost certain that he recognised me. He could be lurking outside the front door this very minute.’
Chapter Seven
Edith’s screech was louder than the steam whistle of an express train. She collapsed against Clemency, sobbing hysterically.
‘Fancy, give me a hand.’ Clemency hitched her mother’s arm across her shoulders. ‘Jack’s right, we got to pull together or we’re all in trouble.’
‘Help her, Fancy, love,’ Jack said softly. ‘I’d do it meself if I was able.’
Reluctantly, Fancy crossed the floor, stepping over Mrs Blunt’s prostrate figure. ‘Well?’
‘Take her other arm,’ Clemency said, struggling to keep hold of Edith who was fighting to get free, and was, by this time, completely hysterical. ‘We’re going to stick her head under the pump in the back yard. That’ll sober her up good and proper.’
Ronnie got to his feet. ‘Can I help?’
Clemency nodded. ‘Best get Mrs B upstairs to her bed. She’s not going to do much cooking today.’
Fancy let out a yelp of pain as Edith caught her round the ear with the flat of her hand. ‘Ouch! It’s the pump for you, you old soak! One more slap and I’ll hold you under till you drowns.’
‘And I’ll help you,’ Clemency said, through gritted teeth. Edith was a dead weight and a mass of flailing hands and feet. Quite how they got her out through the scullery and into the back yard, she never knew. She was tempted to lock her mother in the privy at the far end of the yard, and leave her there until she sobered up, but after a prolonged struggle they managed to drag her to the pump. Clemency held her while Fancy worked the handle. Water gushed out, soaking all three of them, but they held Edith’s head under until she stopped fighting and screaming.
She went down on her knees, gasping for air. ‘All right. You can stop now. I’m sober, really I am.’
Fancy gave the pump handle another jerk. ‘Just for luck,’ she said, grinning. ‘Are you sure you’re sober, Mrs S?’
‘As a judge,’ Edith said, scrambling to her feet. She wrapped her arms around her wet body, her teeth chattering so violently that her blue lips could barely frame the words. ‘I – I’m qu-quite s-sober.’
‘And I’m soaked to the skin.’ Clemency followed them into the scullery. ‘I got no clothes to change into except me boy’s duds.’
‘Shut the bloody door,’ Fancy said, shaking the water from her hair. ‘That was the best fun I’ve had in years. I’ll lend you me second best cotton print, as a favour. But I wants it back, washed and ironed. And don’t think this makes us friends, because it don’t. I’m just doing it for Jack’s sake.’
Augustus was deep in conversation with Ronnie and Jack. They stopped talking and stared in amazement at the sight of three soaking wet women, dripping water all over the flagstones.
‘Blimey!’ Jack said, his lips twitching. ‘Three drownded rats.’
Edith cuffed him round the ear as she went past. ‘Th-that’s no way to speak to your mum.’
Jack’s face split into a grin and he winked at Clemency. ‘The cold water treatment done the trick then.’
She kissed him on the cheek, smiling. It was so good to see him cheerful again. It seemed like years since she had heard Jack laugh. It was worth the soaking, but it did not lessen the discomfort.
‘Best change out of them wet things afore you all catches your death,’ Ronnie said, shaking his head. ‘A lung infection can creep up on a body without warning. I’ve seen folk go down with a fatal chill from just getting their feet wet on a winter’s day.’
Edith had gone to stand by the range and steam was billowing from her clothes. ‘All I got is what I stand up in.’
‘Well at least it’s had a wash,’ Fancy said, taking off her mobcap and wringing the water out of her long, dark hair. ‘You’ll smell a bit better now, Edie.’
‘Less of your cheek, young madam.’ Edith glared at her and then she chuckled. ‘What would Ma Blunt say if she could see us now?’
Clemency stared at her mother in surprise. If anyone else had spoken to her like that, she would have given them what for! What, she wondered, was it about Fancy that had caused Jack to fall in love with her? And now Ma was allowing her to say things that she would never have taken from anyone else. It wasn’t fair and it wasn’t right. Her own mother had abandoned Fancy when she was just a few hours old. No one had wanted her then, and now she was just a skivvy. She was not even pretty, and yet Jack had fallen under her spell, and now it looked as though Ma was being taken in as well. Snakes of jealousy writhed in Clemency’s stomach. She shivered and sneezed.
Fancy opened a drawer in the dresser and pulled out two rough, huckaback towels. She tossed one each to Clemency and Edith. ‘Here, dry yourselves as best you can. I’ll sort out something to wear.’ She crossed the floor leaving wet footprints on the flagstones, and bundling her damp skirts up around her knees she ran up the stairs. She paused at the doorway. ‘Old Ma Blunt is about your size, Edie. I’m sure she can spare you a set of dry clothes.’
Edith wrapped her hair in the towel. ‘What are you lot staring at?’ She demanded, glaring at Augustus, Ronnie and Tom, even though it was obvious that Tom’s vision was obscured by his swollen eyelids. ‘Ain’t you blokes got nothing better to do than hang about the kitchen?’
Augustus rose to his feet. ‘Madam, I apologise for our lack of manners. But we have been discussing what to do about poor Tom.’
‘Yes, poor Tom,’ Lucilla echoed, holding his hand to her cheek. ‘He’s the one who’s suffering. You brought this on yourself by pouring gin down your throat. Do I feel sorry for you, missis? No, I do not.’
‘You shut your mouth, cackling crow,’ Clemency said angrily. ‘You nearly got us thrown out of the pub last night, so you got no room to talk.’
Jack thumped his hand on the table, sending the cutlery jumping and jingling. ‘That’s enough of this squabbling. Ma, we come to a decision. I can get a good tune out of Tom’s flute. I’m going out on the streets with Augustus and the others.’
Edith opened and closed her mouth, seemingly lost for words as she dried her hair with the towel.
‘That’s impossible.’ Clemency squelched over to him with water spurting from the holes in her boots. ‘I – I mean we have to walk for miles.’
Augustus held up his hand. ‘Aha! We’ve thought of that, Clem. Ronnie has worked it all out in his head. By nailing two broom handles to one of these kitchen chairs, he can turn it into a carrying seat. Tom may not be able to play, but he hasn’t lost his strength. Between them, he and Ronnie can carry Jack from pitch to pitch.’
‘I don’t know about that.’ Clemency grasped Jack’s hand. ‘Are you sure about this? People will stare.’
Jack squeezed her fingers. ‘Of course they’ll stare. But it will draw the crowds, Clemmie.’
‘No!’ Fancy shrieked. She came running down the stairs with a bundle of clothes in her arms. ‘You’ll not turn Jack into a freak show. I won’t have it.’
Clemency stared at her in horror. ‘Don’t you dare call Jack a freak. Take that back.’
‘I never said he was a freak.’ Fancy thrust the clothes into Clemency’s hands and pushed her out of the way. She wrapped her arms around Jack’s neck, rubbing her cheek against his dark, curly head. ‘He’s not a freak but you’ll turn him into one if you put him on show.’ Tears gushed from her eyes and she sobbed onto Jack’s shoulder.
‘There, there, Fancy. Don’t take on so.’ Jack rubbed her back, casting an imploring look at Clemency. ‘She don’t understand theatrical folk, Clemmie. You tell he
r.’
‘I say she ought to go down on her knees and thank my Tom for giving Jack the chance to prove himself,’ Lucilla said, tucking her hand through Tom’s arm. ‘Ain’t that right, Daddy?’
‘I wouldn’t quite put it like that, petal,’ Augustus said mildly. ‘Jack is a trouper and he’s going to help us out of a hole.’
Ronnie cleared his throat. ‘Jack is a talented musician, miss. When he plays, everyone will listen, and they’ll forget all about his – er – condition.’
In spite of everything, Clemency could not help but be touched by Fancy’s obvious devotion to Jack. She patted her on the shoulder. ‘They’re right, you know. You ain’t seen Jack when he’s been playing on street corners, but I can tell you no one laughs at him, nor even notices that his legs don’t work. Even the starlings coming home to roost are quiet when Jack plays his music.’
‘Well, it don’t shut the blooming cockney sparrow up now, do it?’ Lucilla snapped. ‘It would serve you right if you lost your voice, Miss Sparrow. Because I can sing circles round you. Last night in the pub they was all drunk, so of course they thought your bawdy song was the best. I appeal to the toffs outside the theatres. They appreciate a good soprano when they hear one.’
Edith banged a wooden spoon against the kettle. ‘Shut up the lot of you. Clemmie, bring them clothes here. We’ll go and change in Jack’s room. The rest of you, get about your business. I wants that table cleared and then I’m going to set about cooking the dinner since Ma Blunt has took to her bed.’
‘Someone is talking sense at last,’ Augustus said, getting to his feet. ‘Lucilla, my angel, you clear the table.’
Lucilla stared at him open-mouthed. ‘But, Daddy …’
‘Do it, now!’
‘Yes, Daddy.’ Eyeing him warily, Lucilla began to pile up the dirty crockery.
Clemency bent her head over the dry clothing, so that Lucilla wouldn’t see her smiling. She helped Fancy to her feet. ‘Come on, girl. You’re drowning me brother.’
Fancy pulled away from her, wiping her eyes on the back of her hand and sniffing. ‘Leave me be.’