The Girl from Kingsland Market

by June Tate

  At lunchtime, Phoebe sent her brother off to buy some fish and chips for their lunch, which they ate out of the paper between serving customers. It was a long day to be standing in the cold and a meal of some kind was a necessity.

  Ben, the new stallholder, looked over and saw them eating. The look of longing didn’t escape Phoebe and when they’d finished theirs, she sent Tim over to the man to ask if he wanted some as well.

  ‘Oh Tim! You have been sent from heaven. I’m starving!’ He fished in his pocket for some money and when Tim returned, he gave him sixpence for going, which delighted the boy.

  ‘I can do this for you every Saturday if you like.’

  The trader laughed. ‘I can see you have an eye for business, young man. It’s a deal.’

  At the end of the day, the traders started to pack up their stalls, but Phoebe was having trouble undoing the canvas that covered hers. It had got twisted around the poles and she was struggling.

  ‘Here, let me give you a hand, I’m taller than you.’ Ben took the cover from her and soon untwisted it. He folded it neatly and handed it back to her.

  ‘Thank you so much,’ said Phoebe, ‘it’s never done that before. How was your first day on the market?’

  He grinned broadly at her. ‘I’ve no idea how you do this every day. My feet are killing me and I’m frozen to the bone.’

  ‘You should buy a pair of the long johns you sell, and two pairs of socks help, the rest is practice. Are you here every day?’

  ‘Yes I am, so I’ll take your advice.’

  ‘Bring sandwiches is another piece of advice. If your stomach’s full it helps keep out the cold.’

  ‘Thanks, I’ll remember. See you tomorrow!’

  Marj sidled over. ‘Oh love, you’ve made a good start there.’

  ‘I haven’t started anything, Marjory!’

  ‘No need to get stroppy, girl. I know you are, because it’s the only time you call me by my full name.’

  Phoebe just laughed. ‘Then behave!’

  As she and her brother wheeled the stall away for the night, Tim said, ‘That Ben really is nice, Phoebe.’

  ‘Now don’t you start too! Come on, get a move on so we can get home in the warm.’

  ‘I wonder where he keeps his stall?’ the boy added as an afterthought.

  Ben had a lock-up just outside the market square. Having secured the door, he made his way to a small cafe for a sandwich and a mug of tea, then he strolled to The Grapes pub on Oxford Street and ordered a pint of bitter. Wandering over to a table, he sat and started reading the local paper he’d picked up on his way. It was early in the evening and the bar was almost empty, but before long the door opened and another workman entered. Ordering a pint of beer, he paid for it, then walked over to where Ben was sitting and joined him.

  ‘So, how was your first day at work?’

  With a grimace Ben told him. ‘How these traders do that every day, I don’t know. I nearly froze my balls off!’

  His companion laughed. ‘Better get used to it, my friend, you could be there for some considerable time. It’s one of the joys of working undercover. Anything interesting happen?’

  ‘No, it was busy, being Saturday, but nothing untoward.’ He smiled slowly. ‘The best thing about today was a lovely girl on a fruit and veg stall who saved my life by letting her little brother go and buy me some fish and chips. I was starving.’

  ‘Now, you behave yourself, don’t let a pretty face stop you from doing your job.’

  Ben pretended to look outraged. ‘Excuse me! Are you suggesting I’m not up to it?’

  ‘No. Just a warning – but on the other hand it might be to your advantage to further this friendship. If she’s a regular she might be a source of information. Nothing gets by among the traders. They always keep tabs on each other.’

  Ben frowned. ‘I’ll give it a day or two and see. I need to tread carefully. I don’t want to give any cause for suspicion or the whole thing will be a waste of time.’ He drank up. ‘I need to go and soak in a hot bath to get my circulation working again.’ Picking up his paper, he left the bar and waited for a tram to take him home.

  Home was a very comfortable flat over a shoe shop in Bedford Place. He took off his coat, went to the bathroom and ran a bath, throwing in some bath salts before he stripped off the rest of his clothes and stepped into the hot water. Laying back he let out a deep sigh, wondering just how long he was going to have to man his stall in the freezing cold.

  When he’d dried himself, he sorted out the clothes for the morning. He remembered Phoebe’s advice and had taken a pair of long johns home with him. He laid them out with a long-sleeved vest, a jumper, then a thicker one and two pairs of socks, thinking to himself he’d look two sizes larger in the morning with all this clobber, but he had to shut out the cold, that much he’d learnt today. He cooked some eggs and bacon and after eating, he set the alarm, climbed into bed and fell asleep.

  Phoebe walked home with Tim. As they passed the street next to hers, she saw a queue of men waiting outside the house rented by the two prostitutes. Tim also saw them.

  ‘What are they waiting in the cold for, Phoebe, it isn’t a shop?’

  She hurried him along. ‘I’ve no idea,’ she lied.

  For once there was no washing hanging about as they entered the house, but the aroma of cooking filled the air.

  ‘Oh, Mum, that smells good.’

  ‘I’m making a stew from a bit of ham on the bone. Did you bring any veg with you?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Phoebe, taking out some onions, a cabbage and a cauliflower from a bag beside her. ‘I bought some cheese to make a sauce for the cauliflower too. That and the stewing steak I bought today should see us through for a bit. When it’s gone, I’ll buy a chicken to roast. We had a good day, so it’ll be a nice treat.’

  ‘There’s a new man in the market, Mum,’ Tim chipped in. ‘He’s ever so nice. He gave me sixpence for getting him some fish and chips. He even helped Phoebe undo the canvas over the stall when it got tangled.’

  Mary looked over at her daughter. ‘Is that right?’

  ‘Yes, don’t know who he is, but he’s very polite. I was pleased of the help. I think he’s new to trading as he said he didn’t know how we did the job every day.’

  ‘Young, is he?’

  ‘Now don’t you start! It’s bad enough with Marj teasing me about him.’

  Her mother just smiled and stirred the pot on the stove. She’d like to see her daughter settled with a nice young man, she thought, as she added some salt and dumplings to the meal. It would be nice for her to have someone to care for her, look after her. Phoebe had taken over her husband’s position since his death, which was a godsend, but she did have a life of her own, after all.

  As they sat down to their meal, Phoebe looked at her mother. ‘How about going to the cinema tomorrow afternoon? You’d like that, wouldn’t you, Tim?’

  His eyes lit up. ‘Can we go and see the Keystone Cops? It’s on at the Gaiety. They’re so funny, they make me roar with laughter.’

  ‘All right with you, Mum?’ she asked.

  ‘Yes, I could do with a good laugh.’ So, it was decided.

  The next afternoon, they queued for a short time to get into the cinema and sat ready for the film. The pianist arrived and took his seat in front of and to the side of the screen and as the credits rolled he started to play. As with all silent films, the pianist contributed to the excitement by interpreting the motion on the screen, playing stirring music as the Keystone Cops hurtled around on a fire engine that was out of control, with the cops hanging from it, clinging on to a ladder for dear life. All three of them were crying with laughter as they watched the mad antics. The second film was just as hilarious, and they left in a state of exhaustion.

  Mary clutched at her stomach as they reached the street. ‘Oh, my poor tummy is aching with laughter,’ she complained.

  Tim was grinning broadly. ‘That was so much fun, but it’s a wonder they
don’t get hurt.’

  ‘Maybe they do,’ declared Phoebe, ‘but they wouldn’t show it. They certainly are clever, though.’

  They wandered home, thoroughly entertained.

  ‘Right, young Timothy,’ said his mother. ‘Go and get your stuff ready for school in the morning. I don’t want a mad rush because you’ve forgotten something. I’ve got a busy day ahead of me.’ But she was only chivvying him along. Young as he was, Tim had learnt to be organised because Phoebe always left early, and he’d learnt how to cope for himself.

  Every Monday morning, Phoebe would walk to the wholesalers and restock her stall. She was a favourite with the sellers who knew her story and admired the girl for taking over her father’s stall. They also knew that she would argue fiercely with them about the price of the goods. It took guts to do this, but she stood up to them all.

  ‘I’m not paying that price!’ she retorted to the man trying to sell her cabbages. ‘I could get them cheaper in the market.’

  ‘Oh, Phoebe, you’ll be the death of me,’ he complained before reducing his price. ‘I’ve got a family to keep, you know!’

  ‘Oh come on, Archie. Don’t give me that old flannel, I know you bury all your money in a tin in the garden,’ she laughed. ‘Now what about some onions?’

  A little later she walked away, pleased with her wares, which would be delivered to her that afternoon.

  Monday was always quiet after the weekend and she took this time to clear the stall, moving the vegetables into boxes to allow her to wash the stall down. She prided herself on the cleanliness and the goods she sold, knowing that some of the other stallholders weren’t so thorough. It paid in the long run, as the customers could see the difference and would come to her for their goods.

  She saw Ben arrive and smiled across at him. She was pleased to see that his things were laid out in a pristine fashion, so he obviously took a pride in his work. She was curious as to how he became a trader. He was well spoken and not as rough and ready as many of the other men who worked the market.

  Ben wandered over to her when he was set up. ‘Good morning! How are you today? I can see you’re having a good clean up − now I know why your stall looks so inviting to the customers.’

  ‘Well I wouldn’t like to buy my food from a dirty stall, would you?’

  ‘Certainly not. I took your advice, by the way, and I’ve several layers on today.’

  She smiled at him. ‘You’ll get used to it in time. What made you do this work? You obviously aren’t used to it?’

  He hesitated for a moment. ‘I was out of a job, so I thought I’d give it a try.’

  ‘What did you do before then?’

  He was saved from answering as a customer stopped at his stall and he left to serve them. As he didn’t return, she never did find out.

  Marj wandered over. ‘’Ow’s your new friend, then?’

  ‘He’s not my friend, Marj. He’s new to this and I was asking him about his previous job, but he had to go.’

  Her friend looked across at Ben. ‘Not the usual sort to be a trader, I would ’ave thought. Interesting.’

  The Stanley brothers were of the same mind.

  ‘Go and have a chat to the new trader and do a bit of digging. He’s not your usual type. See what you can find out,’ Percy told his brother.

  Arthur wandered over to the stall and looked through the stock. ‘These warm shirts look good. Decent price too.’ He looked at Ben. ‘Been trading long, have you?’

  ‘No, this is my first time. It takes some getting used to, standing about in the cold.’

  ‘What on earth made you choose this way of life, if you don’t mind me asking?’

  ‘I moved down here from Gloucester and the only work on offer was in the docks and I didn’t fancy that, so I thought I’d give this a try. How about you? Have you always been a trader?’

  ‘Yeah. Me and me brother have done it all our lives. Buying and selling’s in our blood. Well, best get back.’

  ‘Well?’ asked Percy.

  ‘He came down here from Gloucester looking for work. Didn’t fancy the docks so here he is. Seems harmless enough.’

  But Percy wasn’t convinced. ‘Maybe so, but we’ll keep an eye on him.’

  ‘Well at least Len Taylor will clear the stuff tonight, so we’ll be as clean as a whistle for the time being.’

  ‘We’ll take a break until around Christmas. People get careless then, rushing around getting ready for the festive season.’

  ‘Ha! Be like a holiday,’ laughed Arthur. But his brother was not amused.

  Chapter Three

  It was mid December and the market looked very festive. The stalls were decorated with tinsel and baubles. Lanterns were hung in each stall with lit candles inside and someone had brought an old phonograph and some records and was playing Christmas carols. Tony, who sold saucepans among his goods, used two lids to play like cymbals until he was told to stop because it was too loud. He did so after much fussing, instead he picked up a bunch of mistletoe and visited all the females on their stands, lingering at Marj’s, but it was all done with good humour.

  Phoebe had bundles of holly and mistletoe for sale beside her stall and half a dozen Christmas trees. She and Tim – when he was there – used to sing along to the carols. Phoebe had a sweet pure voice, which was much appreciated by the other traders who would join in with gusto. At this time more than any other, there was an air of jollity in the market, filled with the Christmas spirit − apart from the Stanley brothers, who had just strewn a few strands of tinsel on their stall, so as not to look different, but it hadn’t been done with any cheer and it showed.

  Ben wandered over to Phoebe’s stall. ‘Doesn’t the older Stanley brother ever smile?’ he asked.

  ‘I don’t think his mouth knows how,’ she retorted. ‘To be honest, he scares me a bit.’

  ‘Why? Have you had any trouble with him?’ he asked quickly.

  ‘No, never, but he’s got a cruel face and when he looks at you it makes me go cold.’

  ‘Yes, I can see what you mean. He’s a mean man with a mean face. Just keep clear of him is my advice.’

  ‘Oh, don’t you worry, I do. I was wondering,’ she said, ‘if you could get one of your warm jackets in Tim’s size, if it isn’t too expensive. I’d like to give him one for Christmas. He’s almost grown out of his.’

  ‘I’ll see what I can do,’ Ben said. ‘Give me a call when you close, I’ll help you move the trees again.’

  She thanked him profusely. Ever since she’d had them delivered, Ben had helped put them away, which had saved her time and energy. To thank him she’d sometimes bring him a large piece of her mother’s bread pudding, which he devoured eagerly.

  Marj watched their growing friendship with interest, but these days didn’t tease her friend, hoping that the nice young man might come to be important to the young girl of whom she was so fond.

  As Christmas Eve approached, young Tim’s excitement grew. Like most children, the thought of opening presents on Christmas morning was something to look forward to, but for many a child whose parents were too poor, it was mostly a disappointment. Some of these children were the ones that hovered around the market stalls at closing time, hoping to glean anything that was free. With this in mind, Phoebe always had a stash of sweets to hand out on Christmas Eve and any spare fruit and vegetables.

  Ben watched as she quietly handed round such bounty to children wearing worn clothes and scuffed shoes. He noticed how she did so, quietly and unobtrusively, so as to leave the children with some dignity. It was endearing to watch. He too added to this with warm gloves and scarves from his stall. He had also managed to purchase a jacket in Tim’s size, which Phoebe had hidden away until Christmas morning.

  Towards closing time, Phoebe looked at what remained on her stall. All the Christmas trees had sold, and she had one at home to be decorated that evening. There was no holly left but just one small sprig of mistletoe. The rest had gone.


  It had been such a busy day. Seeing how tired Tim was, she’d sent him home early, telling him to start decorating the tree, knowing how he loved to do this. She gave him a bag of apples, oranges and some mixed nuts she’d ordered for the Christmas period only, to take with him and she would add another of vegetables with her to go with the chicken on Christmas Day, which she’d purchased the day before.

  Ben put his stall away, then returned to help Phoebe with hers. He wheeled the cart and she carried the canvas cover. Inside the shed, Ben put the stall down and seeing the sprig of mistletoe, he picked it up and as Phoebe walked in behind him, he held the sprig over their heads and kissed her gently on the lips.

  ‘Happy Christmas, Phoebe!’

  She was so surprised she didn’t know what to say for a minute. Then she stuttered, ‘You too, Ben.’

  As she locked up she asked him, ‘Where are you spending the holiday?’

  ‘With some friends. It should be a lot of fun. See you in a couple of days. Have a good time.’

  The Stanley brothers put their stall away and took some fish and chips home to have with a couple of bottles of beer. They had a long night ahead of them, so they made themselves comfortable in a couple of armchairs to grab a few hours’ sleep.

  In the very early hours of the morning, the Stanley brothers got out their bicycles and rode away towards the more palatial part of the town where the houses were bigger and set back in a private garden. They hid the bikes in a hedge; and creeping along, chose a house that was in darkness. They crept round to the back door. Using a jemmy, Percy proceeded to break into the premises as quietly as possible. Using torches, they crept into the house, picking up anything that was small and expensive. Going into the living room, they ignored the presents under the tree and opened cupboards and drawers, removing pieces of silverware, putting them into a sack each one was carrying.