The Urchin's Song

by Rita Bradshaw

  After Mr Webb had finished his tea and given her the address in the East End, Josie paid him what she owed him along with a handsome bonus which brought forth more remonstrances for her to be careful. It was just as he was taking his leave and Constance had appeared to show him out that Oliver opened the front door.

  Josie saw her husband’s eyebrows rise and watched the blue eyes move swiftly from herself to Mr Webb, but she was unprepared for the glacial quality to Oliver’s voice as he said, ‘I don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure?’

  ‘This is Mr Webb, Oliver; he’s just leaving. Mr Webb; my husband.’ Her own voice was stiff, and now she accompanied Mr Webb across the hall herself, motioning for Constance to leave, and ignored Oliver who had stood to one side as she said, ‘Goodbye, and thank you once again.’

  ‘A pleasure, Mrs Hogarth.’ Mr Webb’s line of business made him particularly sensitive to atmosphere and he didn’t delay his departure.

  Once Josie had shut the door she again brushed past the silent Oliver and walked quickly into the morning room, conscious that he was close behind her and that he had shut the door after them.

  ‘Well?’ He was the first to speak. ‘Are you going to tell me what that individual was doing in my house?’

  She didn’t take the chair she had been sitting in a few minutes earlier but remained standing, turning to face him slowly. ‘Mr Webb called to say that he had discovered where Lily is living. I employed him to find her.’

  ‘You did what?’

  ‘I told you I was going to make enquiries, Oliver.’

  He glared at her, his voice loud as he said, ‘And you gave him leave to call here at the house? Are you mad, woman?’

  And now she answered him in like voice: ‘No, I’m not mad, and if you remember I’ve been ill for two days and unable to go to the theatre so he was unable to see me there as I’d asked.’

  ‘I don’t believe this!’

  ‘I don’t understand why. It’s perfectly straightforward. I asked Mr Webb to find Lily and that is what he has done.’

  His voice came rapidly but low now. ‘Don’t take that tone with me. What would have happened if you had had a morning caller? Mrs Pierpont-Fitzhugh for example, or Lady Walston - what then?’

  ‘I would have excused myself and spoken to him privately in another room. He would have understood.’

  ‘He would have understood? He would have?’ Oliver ground his teeth, the sound loud in the room. ‘Don’t you understand how hard I’ve worked to make sure you are accepted?’ he spat out, one arm outstretched and his pointing finger stabbing at the air. ‘And it hasn’t been easy, especially--’ He stopped abruptly, aware he had been about to say too much and that Stella’s name would be like a red rag to a bull. ‘Especially when there are some who would like to exclude you,’ he finished tightly. ‘And you would have allowed yourself to be seen with a man like that! Not only seen, but encouraging him into the house.’

  ‘Mr Webb is a good, honest, kind gentleman.’ She couldn’t believe he was reacting so violently to the other man’s presence in the house, and yet, she asked herself in the next moment, why had she asked Mr Webb to contact her at the theatre if she hadn’t suspected Oliver would behave in just this very way? ‘And as to me being accepted by your friends, Oliver, they can please themselves. I am not ashamed of who I am or where I have come from, and if your friends - or you - are, then that is your loss.’

  Her voice quivered on the last words, and immediately he was at her side, his countenance undergoing a lightning change as he gripped her hands, saying, ‘Oh my dear, my dear, my love. Of course I did not mean that. How could I? You know how much I love you; how proud I am of you. It’s just that I want everyone to feel the same way I do, that’s all, and people are devilish quick to talk.’

  People. He always excused himself by talking about these ‘people’, but she had never had it confirmed so clearly that he was one of them. Why hadn’t she seen it before, when they were engaged? But it was different when you actually lived with someone. During their courtship he had been as much her agent as her beau, and in that capacity he dealt with people from all different levels of the social strata. And he was not an unkind man, not really, but proud. And yet this was more than pride, Josie corrected herself in the next moment. It was pretentiousness, a self-satisfied hauteur or, as Vera would term it, uppishness.

  Withdrawing her hands from his she turned her back on him and walked over to the large full-length window, staring up into the rainswept grey sky before she said, still without looking at him, ‘I am going to see Lily, Oliver. Mr Webb has told me she is in a dreadful state and something needs to be done. She is living in a tailor’s house in the East End and the conditions are appalling.’

  He hadn’t followed her, and now his voice came quietly saying, ‘That would be unwise, Josie. It is commendable you are concerned about her, of course, but once you start something like this it can become a burden.’

  ‘I’m sorry but I don’t see it that way.’

  She turned to face him then and she saw the muscles in his cheekbones tighten, but his voice was still low when he said, ‘I see. In that case may I ask exactly what you intend to do with her?’

  ‘I don’t know. I suppose it depends on Lily to a certain extent.’

  There was a long pause before Oliver turned and walked to the door, and his hand was resting on the shining brass doorknob when he said, ‘I hope you do not live to regret this act of charity, Josie, because it has been my experience that very often such people bite the hand which feeds them. Nevertheless, you are my wife and for your sake I will support you in anything you wish to do, short of having the woman here. Do you understand me on this? I will not have her in this house.’

  And with that he opened the door and stepped into the hall, closing the door quietly behind him.

  Chapter Seventeen

  ‘This is it; we’re here. Number 13, Hanging Row.’

  It was ten o’clock the following morning, and the hired carriage holding Josie, Gertie and Nellie had just pulled up outside a dingy terraced house in a squalid street, one of many such which made up the overcrowded slums of London’s East End.

  In spite of the drizzling rain there were several ragged children, all without shoes and all filthy, sitting huddled against a house wall, and a group of slatternly-looking women having a fierce disagreement about something or other. As the three girls looked out of the carriage window one of the women grabbed another by the hair and began beating her about the face and upper body, two more joining in the fray in the moment before a big, burly man appeared from an open doorway and hauled the women, who were now kicking and screaming, into the house.

  ‘Cat fight.’ Nellie sounded very knowledgeable but she had gone a little pale.

  Josie and Gertie exchanged a glance. They had grown up with similar occurrences and this area bore a marked resemblance to Sunderland’s East End. Gin shops, brothels, dirt and disease - it appeared poverty worked in the same degrading way everywhere.

  ‘Right, ladies. Ten minutes, you said?’ The driver had got down from his seat behind the two horses and opened the carriage door, his stolid face betraying nothing of the curiosity he felt about his passengers. Well-to-do women, as these obviously were, didn’t usually visit Hanging Row.

  Josie took a deep breath and descended from the carriage with the help of the proffered hand. ‘Thank you.’

  ‘You’re welcome, ma’am.’

  Nellie and Gertie were less quick to alight, their faces betraying their trepidation, and once they were standing on the greasy, muck-strewn cobbles, Josie said quietly, ‘You two don’t have to come in with me, you know. You can wait in the carriage if you like. I shall be out with Lily in two ticks, all being well.’

  ‘I wouldn’t bank on it.’ Nellie cast a glance about her, wary-eyed. ‘And we’re coming in with you, gal.’

  ‘Come on then.’ The driver had climbed up into his seat, his back impartial, but as Josie called up,
‘If we’re not out in ten minutes, would you knock on the door?’ he turned his head and said quietly, ‘Oh yes, m’dear, don’t you worry about that. And mind you tell ’em in there you’ve got someone waiting outside. All right?’

  Josie smiled her thanks and nodded, and then, with the other two clinging hold of her skirt like a pair of bairns, she crossed the pavement and lifted the iron knocker on the flaking door, rapping hard three times. It was opened almost immediately and a plump, pasty-faced girl of ten or eleven stood in the doorway, her sallow skin heavily afflicted with pimples. Her gaze widened at the sight of them, and before Josie had a chance to speak the girl yelled over her shoulder, ‘Mum? It’s not Mr Bennett’s lad for the suits; it’s three ladies.’

  A woman’s voice came clearly from within saying, ‘Three ladies? What are you on about, Rachel?’ and then the owner of the voice was in the doorway peering at them.

  ‘Mrs Howard?’ Josie spoke quietly but firmly although her tone was not unfriendly.

  ‘Who wants to know?’

  ‘Are you Mrs Howard?’ Josie repeated more crisply.

  The woman nodded, her long face guarded.

  ‘My name is Mrs Hogarth. I understand you were kind enough to offer assistance to a friend of mine, Miss Atkinson? Lily Atkinson?’

  Without seeming to move a muscle of her face Mrs Howard said, ‘I took her in, if that’s what you mean.’

  ‘Yes, that is what I mean and it was very good of you, Mrs Howard. May I see Miss Atkinson, please?’

  The woman glanced downwards for a moment, fingering her thick woollen skirt before she lifted her head and said, ‘She’s gone.’

  ‘Gone?’

  ‘That’s what I said, didn’t I? She’s gone.’

  Josie stared into the woman’s brown eyes and knew Lily’s benefactor was lying. ‘I don’t think so, Mrs Howard. I have it on good authority that Lily is here. We wish her no harm but it is imperative I speak with her right now. If there is a problem I am happy to wait until it is convenient, but I do insist on seeing her. If you are worried about our credibility you are quite at leave to call a constable, we have nothing to hide.’

  The brown gaze moved to the waiting carriage and the impassive figure of the driver sitting behind the horse and then back to Josie. ‘No need for that,’ Mrs Howard said sourly. ‘Come in if you want, it’s just that I know Lily don’t want to see no one.’

  More like Mrs Howard didn’t want to lose an unpaid worker in her sweatshop, Josie thought angrily. When she had told Nellie where Lily was, the other girl had been aghast. Apparently the area was well known for its sweatshops which took in Jewish immigrants fleeing from Europe, families that had lost their homes and only had the workhouse to look forward to, and other such unfortunates. Working all hours in the conditions Mr Webb had mentioned and then only for the dubious shelter of a roof over their heads and a starvation diet meant that most of the inhabitants of such places were ill and weak and without hope.

  The smell which had been wafting out of the doorway was considerably worse once Josie stepped into the dark narrow hall, but nothing prepared the three girls for the stench of the room beyond the passageway. As Mrs Howard opened the door and stood aside Josie took a deep breath, fighting back the urge to gag, but she heard Nellie or Gertie give an involuntary retch behind her. The room was not large - eight or nine feet by ten at the most - and the ceiling was low, but every single inch of available space was taken. Several women and one man were asleep on pallets set against the walls, one woman holding a young baby against her breasts by means of a shawl, and in the centre of the floor was a large table holding lengths of material. Around this were several high stools on which sat more men and women, and they were all sewing garments. In contrast to the floor which was filthy and showing evidence of cockroaches, the table was spotless.

  Although the odour of unwashed bodies and stale air was bad, Josie realised the main source of the smell was from the back yard beyond the room where the privy was situated, and she didn’t like to dwell on the state of that. She fought the inclination to raise her handkerchief to her nose, conscious of the dull gaze of the occupants as her eyes searched each pale exhausted face, and then her glance took in Lily. Her old friend was sitting at the far end of the table, one fist rammed against her mouth, and if Josie hadn’t known Lily was in the room she wouldn’t have recognised her at first. The once big, buxom woman seemed to have shrunk and she looked terribly ill, her face gaunt and her clothes hanging off a frame which was little more than skeletal.

  Josie heard Nellie’s whispered, ‘Lily . . . Saints alive,’ and assumed, correctly as it happened, that Lily looked to be in a worse state than when Nellie had first seen her all those weeks ago. It was a moment or two before she could speak over the great hard lump filling her throat, but when her voice came it was surprisingly normal-sounding as she said, ‘We’ve come to take you out of here, Lily. All right? Have you got anything you want to bring with you?’

  ‘What’s that?’ A tall thin man with a harelip spoke and now everyone at the table was motionless as he rose to his feet. He had been working at a piece of material the same as the others, but his seat was the only one with a back to it. Josie had noticed the young girl who had first opened the door whispering something to this man as they had entered the room.

  ‘These are friends of Lily’s, Elias.’ Mrs Howard sidled round Josie before she added, ‘This is my husband.’

  Josie inclined her head, holding the man’s eyes with her own as she said, ‘I’ve thanked your wife for taking care of our friend, Mr Howard, but there is no need for her to stay with you any longer. We weren’t aware of where she was or we would have come for her before now.’

  ‘Would you indeed?’ The harelip gave his voice a slight lisp which was all at odds with the mean, bullet-hard eyes. ‘Well she works for me, see? Trained her, I have, and it’s cost me ’cause she’s not as fast as the others, and I’ve given her a bed and food an’ all. She’s not leaving.’

  ‘Trained me?’ Lily spoke for the first time since they had entered the room. ‘The other girl died where she sat and I was all you could find, that’s the truth of it.’

  ‘See?’ The man turned to his wife. ‘I told you how it’d be. You do someone a good turn and they kick you in the teeth. You should’ve left her where she dropped. Twenty odd suits and more we’ve got to get to Bennett’s or else we’re in trouble, and here’s one of me workers swanning off without as much as a by your leave.’ The voice had a whine to it now. ‘This is what comes of being kind and extending a helping hand.’

  ‘A helping hand?’ said Josie grimly. ‘The same helping hand these other people have benefited from, I suppose?’ Her head moved in a gesture which took in the miserable room and its occupants, but her eyes remained fastened on the tall thin man watching her. ‘If anyone else had taken Miss Atkinson in I would have made sure they were rewarded handsomely, but from what I have seen here my friend has more than repaid anything she owed you.’

  Mrs Howard had now reached her husband’s side, and Josie turned away from their combined glare, staring straight at Lily as she said, in a tone which brooked no argument, ‘Get your things, Lily. You’re leaving here and you’re not coming back.’

  It was some seconds before Lily spoke, and Josie thought for an awful moment or two she was going to refuse to leave with them, but then her old friend said, her voice breaking, ‘I . . . I haven’t got anything ’cept my coat, lass.’

  ‘Put it on then.’ Josie was amazed at how firm her voice sounded and how cool she must seem on the outside, especially with the pitiful sight in front of her. She looked straight into Mr Howard’s face again as she said, ‘Something tells me you and your family don’t live in this establishment.’

  ‘What’s that to do with you?’

  ‘I’m right then.’ Lily had joined them now and Josie’s chin rose higher as she said, ‘You’ll have to answer for all this one day, Mr Howard. God won’t be mocked, do you know
that? There will come a day when you’ll wish you’d never been born.’

  She had expected some nasty retort along with a command to get out, but when the man merely continued staring at her, one hand now clutching at his shirt collar, she swung round, pushing Lily and the others in front of her as she said, ‘Go out to the carriage, all of you.’

  The air wasn’t pleasant in the street outside, but it was fresh compared to the fetid atmosphere they’d just left.

  ‘How did you know, lass?’ Lily’s fingers gripped hold of Josie’s arm as the other two clambered into the carriage with no further bidding. ‘About him, Howard?’

  ‘Know?’

  ‘He’s terrified about anything to do with the hereafter. Superstitious doesn’t begin to cover it. He’ll look on what you said as a curse, he will, and he’ll be disappearing up his own backside in there.’

  ‘Not an attractive thought.’

  And then, as Lily swayed slightly, Josie took the other woman in her arms as she said, ‘Why, Lily? Why didn’t you come to me or one of your other friends? You know there’s plenty who would have helped you. You’re ill, anyone can see that, and working in there . . .’ Josie couldn’t finish but hugged Lily to her.

  After a few moments she held the other woman away as she said again, ‘Why, Lily?’

  ‘They . . . they aren’t all like you, lass.’

  Josie looked deep into the brimming eyes and said softly, ‘Nellie came back looking for you that night. She was so upset when she couldn’t find you. I think at first she couldn’t believe it was you and by the time she realised it was, you’d gone.’

  ‘Oh, I don’t mean Nellie, not really.’ Lily flapped her hand before running it over her wet face and taking several deep audible gulps. Then, her tongue loosened, she burst out, ‘I’ve never taken charity in me life, lass. That’s it at heart. Me mam an’ da were the same; for right or wrong they believed in taking nowt from no one unless you’d earned it. After our mam died an’ me da got middling, one of me brothers was going to take him in, but on the morning he was supposed to move our Bernie went round there an’ me da had hanged himself with his own belt.’