To Catch a Dream

by Mary Wood

  ‘Miss, if I could turn around I would, but there’s not enough room to do so.’

  ‘But you could back the horse up! It is stubborn you are. Can you not understand we have to make the dock before noon?’

  ‘Don’t take what she says as her being rude, driver. She’s just anxious.’ Beth took Bridie’s hand and squeezed it. The look, and the shake of her head that went with it, conveyed that Bridie should not make things worse, but the action only fuelled her temper. The driver could get them out of this mess if he tried, but he just sat there!

  ‘I’m telling you, if I could do sommat, I would. I have to earn me living, and being stuck here and not picking up fares ain’t doing anything towards that. I’ve checked out the possibilities and there’s nothing as I can do. There’s a dray stacked with barrels behind us and a horse and cart behind that, and then two or three cabs. And even if they did all agree to back up for us, the roads coming onto this one are blocked an’ all. So we have no choice but to wait.’

  Bridie looked from the driver to the carnage in front of them and then to Beth. ‘Oh, Beth, can you think of something? We’ll not make it unless we can get going now.’

  ‘I can’t, love, but Seamus will wait for us, even if he has to miss the boat and book us on the next one sailing in a few weeks.’

  Bridie felt sure Beth was right. Seamus would be annoyed beyond anything, but he wouldn’t take all the money and sail to America without her, sure he wouldn’t . . . She leaned out of the side of the hansom cab. Nothing moved. From what their driver had found out, it seemed a horse had reared and thrown its rider, spooking the horses pulling a dray. They had bolted, and the dray had capsized and landed on top of the fallen rider. The driver of the dray had sustained injuries, but the horseman had been killed. Although the rescuers had dispatched the casualties to hospital, the dray still lay upturned across the road. Its contents – boxes of fruit and vegetables – were strewn everywhere. It was sorry to the heart of her she was for those poor men, but why had it to happen now, and here, on her route to meet up with Seamus?

  At last a gang of men arrived and set about righting the dray and pulling it to one side of the road. And from nowhere, it seemed, women and children appeared with bags and began scooping up the spoils. Their laughter and cries of joy did nothing to lift Bridie’s spirits as another noise drowned them out. The nearby church clock was striking twelve! Each boom clanged the hopelessness of her situation deeper into her. She called out again to the driver, ‘How long will it take to get to the dock from here?’

  ‘Twenty minutes or so, if we’re lucky, Miss.’

  The cab began to move and once more shake their bones, as the horse trotted over the cobbled streets. Willing it to go faster, Bridie sat forward in her seat. Soon the buildings began to look familiar and a hope entered her. Never did she think she would welcome the smell of fish in the air, but as the first whiff of it stung her nostrils she knew they were close, and she could have jumped for joy.

  That joy turned to despair. The sea, grey and churning, mocked her as it crashed onto the quayside unrestricted, where once the ship had stood majestic. On the horizon, picked out by the sun, all her hopes and dreams sailed away from her. Steam and smoke belched out of the two black funnels, as if making an effort to put as much distance between them as they could. Dismay thumped in every beat of her heart. Looking through the cab window, she searched among the people milling around and gazing out to sea, watching their relatives and friends disappear from view. Some cried; others stood in silence. Children still waved flags and played around in excitement, oblivious to the sad side of a farewell. Dockworkers went about their chores, winding in chains and clearing debris. Nowhere could she see Seamus.

  ‘I’m sorry, Miss. Look, I have another fare to go to – one of me regulars – but I’ll call by here in about an hour. And if you’re in need of a lift somewhere, I’ll take you for nothing.’ Taking the arm he offered, Bridie didn’t answer him. He’d already put her trunk on the ground, and she went to it and sank down onto it.

  Through the mist of tears stinging her eyes she saw Beth give the driver some coins and heard him gee up his horse. The wheels grinding over the stones had a finality about them. ’Tis as it had happened again. Hadn’t she been cast aside once more by someone who should have been keeping her safe?

  14

  Bridie

  Liverpool, April 1876

  A path is set

  ‘Well, lass.’ Beth sat down next to her on the huge case. ‘It looks like it’s me and thee. Hey, don’t take on so. We’ve come through worse.’

  Yes, she had been for coming through worse and hardly a tear had left her eyes, but they were for coming in a deluge now and she couldn’t stop them. The very core of her wept. For her mammy, her sweet mammy; for the pappy who’d turned from a loving father to a monster; for the loss of Seamus, the love of her life, and his betrayal of her. And for her desperate situation. Sure it was she had no money, no home, and was alone in the world.

  ‘Cry it out, Bridie, love. Happen as it is the best thing for you. You’ve not done your grieving yet and have had a lot to contend with these last few months.’

  ‘What is it we are going to do, Beth? I . . . I love him. He couldn’t have left me. How am I to live without him?’

  Beth’s arms came around her. Bridie snuggled into her like a child would to her mother, and that was how Beth spoke to her now. ‘I know as it seems like the world has come to an end, love. For a young ’un, you’ve been through mill and back. But you’ve your whole life in front of you, lass – and you have me. I’ll not abandon you. We’ll work sommat out.’

  Young? She didn’t feel young. Hadn’t a million years gone by since she’d sat with her mammy a few short months ago? A tremble passed through her and she thought the time since then was like that shudder, for its heartbreak had rocked her world.

  The faint smell of someone else’s perfume on the dress Beth wore brought her back to the reality of their situation. It reminded her of the second-hand clothes. They had been for buying a whole trunk full of them. An idea came to her. She sat up and dried her tears. ‘’Tis as we could sell the clothes. What do you think, Beth?’

  ‘That’s the spirit, love. Aye, I was thinking along those lines. Happen as the woman’ll take them back. Oh, I don’t suppose she’ll give us what you paid, but anything will help. P’raps we could get cab driver to take us back there.’

  ‘Yes, but then what? We can’t be going back to our placements. Even if I could be making Mr Proctor understand, you’ll not be for standing a chance. I mean, we just upped and left. Oh, Beth . . .’

  ‘We could go to Agnes, but – well . . . you see, Agnes works as a prostitute and . . .’

  ‘A prostitute! But . . .’

  ‘Aye, I know. It ain’t what she wanted to do, not at first, but when she escaped from the convent she had no references and no skills other than housework and gardening. She had to survive, as we will have to.’

  ‘Are you thinking we should do that? Sell ourselves? No, never. I’d denounce St Patrick first, so I would, and that’s something I’d never do.’

  ‘No, well, I hope we don’t have to, but I have thought on it meself this good while. Don’t look so shocked. At times it seemed like the only alternative to me life in the convent, and it’s one I’d take now, rather than go back there. You were only there a short while, Bridie. You have no idea.’

  ‘But to sleep with men . . .’

  ‘Look, neither of us are virgins – we had that took from us. And the taking rendered us soiled goods. There’s not many men as would have us as their wives, but they’d pay for what we have to offer. Anyroad, I’d do anything not to have you go down that path, but I’d go down it meself to take care of us.’

  ‘Oh, Beth, you’re the best friend a girl could have, and I have dragged you into this. It is sorry I am.’

  ‘You’ve done more for me than you can know, lass. If it hadn’t been for the accident back the
re, we’d be on that ship.’

  ‘Yes, but Seamus – the bastard that he is – played his part. Oh, why did he not wait for us? He said he loved me.’

  ‘Don’t start again, love. Seamus is a traveller. He’s not like us. He has no loyalty.’

  ‘That’s not true. The travellers are for having a name they don’t deserve. They have many qualities their way of life has given them, and they are always fighting against what folk put on them. I know things, Beth. And now I come to give them thought, they are probably the reason he couldn’t wait. Though in the saying of that, I’m for knowing he has taken many chances in the past, and he could have been for taking one last chance to keep his promise to me.’

  ‘Aye, that’s my thinking too, but it’ll do us no good dwelling on the fact. I think our best chance is to go to Agnes. She’s been out in the world for a lot longer than us, so she might be able to help us. I have her address. She left me another note after you’d gone, but I didn’t say owt about it to you. It didn’t seem to matter . . . Anyroad, now I know why I didn’t hear much from her, like she promised. She’s living in Sheffield, and it’s a fair trek from here.’

  ‘Sheffield?’

  ‘Aye, have you heard of it? It’s an industrial town up north, the other side of Leeds where I come from, and . . .’

  ‘I have, and ’tis right for us to go there. ’Tis as Seamus’s grandmother’s saying is coming true. She was always after telling me: “If something is meant for you, me wee Bridie, you will hear of it in many ways, before it is presented to you . . .” And here it is as I am hearing of this place for the third time.’

  ‘Where have you heard of Sheffield before, then?’

  ‘Seamus told me tales of it, and of Leeds and the surrounding countryside. He fought in bare-fist fights in both of them. And then there was this man as I bumped into. I only met him for a second, so I did, but in that time he told me he was for coming across country from Sheffield on a train to stay with his uncle in Liverpool.’

  ‘Well, there you go. The signs are all there. Eeh, Bridie, you’re a daft ha’porth.’ Beth burst out laughing. ‘And best is, you’ve no idea how funny you are at times.’

  Going so quickly from crying with every fibre of her being, to giggling fit to burst, burned exhaustion into her, but somehow Bridie now felt able to cope. Prayers hadn’t been the companion to her they used to be, not since . . . But what the feck, she’d send up one now and He’d better be for listening . . . Thank you, God, for sending me Beth. And Jesus, Mary and Joseph, can you please see your way clear to intervene for us and be helping us? Don’t be for making it as we have to be doing the sinful thing Agnes has to do . . .

  Beth broke into her thoughts. ‘Reet, that feels better. There’s nowt like a good laugh to heal you. Now let’s pull ourselves together and get busy sorting out what we can keep and what has to go. Cos we’ll need to keep some of the things, the less fancy ones, as we’ve nowt else.’

  Seeing some of the clothes they had bought for the second time, Bridie wondered what had possessed them to choose them. She pulled out an emerald-green gown. Beautiful as it was, she couldn’t really see herself in something so fine. And the velvet cloak with the heavy embroidery . . . She flung it around her, and a musty smell was released into the air. The hem swept the floor. How could she have thought it looked good on her? Wasn’t getting rid of the stuff the best thing? Sure, they had seemed like the most wonderful and exciting purchases, but it wouldn’t be a hardship to part with them, as now they had nowhere to wear them anyway.

  As the train slowed, wisps of smoke trailed by the window, some of it finding gaps and filling the carriage with a smell like the one Bridie remembered catching on Will Hadler. As they alighted and left the station, it seemed the smoke had touched everything in Sheffield and blackened it. The air was thick with it. It poured from the factories and from the huge chimneys rising up from the ground. It clogged her throat and stung her eyes.

  ‘Agnes said as it were an industrial town, but I didn’t expect owt like this!’ Beth said as they stood outside the station. ‘Oh, well, where there’s muck there’s money, so they say.’

  Bridie didn’t answer. Didn’t she have a bad feeling about this place in the pit of her stomach, and didn’t it take from her all the hope she’d had the moment she’d set foot on its pavements. If she was for having anywhere to turn back to, she would do so in a moment, so she would, but it was as if there was nothing left for her on the road she’d travelled since her mammy had died.

  ‘Come on, love, let’s make a move. It’s been a reet April shower day today and it looks like another is on the horizon. You carry the smaller bag. Let’s go over to that tea room and get ourselves some tea and cake. Eeh, I’m fair parched, and I can’t sort nowt out on an empty stomach.’

  Beth sounded like she did this sort of thing every day. It made Bridie feel better, and as they crossed the road she asked, ‘Beth, are you for thinking they’ll maybe know how we can get to Agnes’s place?’

  ‘Aye, happen they will.’

  The man behind the counter reminded Bridie of her Uncle George. His cigarette hung from his lips as he poured steaming tea into two grubby-looking cups. To call the place a tea room was a gross exaggeration; she’d never seen its like before. It smelt of fat and stale bodies. The customers in there, mostly men, looked like they’d just come from a house fire. Their blackened skins told of their labour, but gave no clue as to whether that had been in the steel works, the foundries or the coal mines – all industries that were in abundance in the area.

  The stir as they’d walked in became a hubble of catcalls when they asked for directions to Grimble Street. ‘I’ve got tuppence. Will that get me a shag or a hand-job, love?’ And ‘What’s your name, redhead? I’ll ask for yer next time I come calling at Bruiser Armitage’s place.’

  ‘I wouldn’t be for having the likes of you near me, you fecking scum! Not even if you had a guinea to pay me. So you can shut your mouth.’

  ‘Eeh, she’s got spirit, and an Irish t’boot. Bet I could tame her, though.’

  ‘Don’t be so sure, Cain. She looks as though she could chew you up and spit you out.’

  ‘Ignore them, Bridie. The more you banter with them, the worse you’ll come off. Let’s sit over there.’

  ‘Are you sure about going to Agnes, Beth? I’m thinking ’tis a known area for what she does.’

  ‘We have no other choice, love. It’s nigh on five o’clock now and it’ll be dark in another hour or so. Then what can we do? We know no one else, or how to get about this place.’

  ‘’Tis right as you are. We have to go there, I can see that.’

  ‘Come on then, best do it whilst you’re for it, as you’ve changed your mind as often as a prostitute’s knickers go up and down as it is!’

  Bridie laughed at this and felt better for it. Chiding herself, she thought: Haven’t I no choice other than to go with Beth? And wouldn’t Beth choose not to go there if she could? So she’d to stop her moaning and try to go with a light heart.

  The red door opened almost as soon as Beth knocked on it. A big man stood in front of them – not big like George Bottomley, or anywhere near his age, as this man looked in his mid-twenties. The vest he wore exposed most of the top half of his muscular body. He had a handsome face, rugged with hard-cut features, similar to Seamus. His head sat on a tree trunk of a neck, and his hair – dark and shining with the oil that sleeked it down – hung longer than most men wore it. His hazel eyes stared at Bridie. In them she read admiration and something she couldn’t put a name to, but whatever it was it stirred a muscle in the bottom of her stomach. She stared back at him.

  ‘We’re looking for Agnes Pickles. Does she live here?’ Beth asked.

  ‘Yes, she does. Come on in, she’s . . . um, busy at the moment. Come through.’

  They walked into a room twice as big as her aunt’s living room, and yet the house had looked similar from the front. The other odd thing was the furniture. D
otted around the room, but not overcrowding it, were sofas that you would expect to see in a much grander place, with an occasional table by each one. These again looked more used to standing among riches. The threadbare carpet let the room down, as did the fireplace. The cooking range, blackened until it shone and glowing with a huge pile of burning coal, just didn’t fit with its surroundings and would have been more at home in a working man’s kitchen. This room aspired to be much more.

  ‘I see you like our home, redhead. You can make it yours if you want, yer know. We have a room going spare.’

  His smile spoke of more than just a welcome. She wasn’t for understanding why, but the message it sent tingled through her. Confusion filled her. Sure, this man had a strange effect on her.

  ‘Me name’s Albert Armitage, though folk call me Bruiser, on account of me quick temper and me fist-fighting ability.’

  Bridie didn’t know how to handle him. The nerves of her dried her throat. A feeling inside of her seemed to be linking her to him, as if he had something she wanted . . . needed even. By all that is holy, what has got into me?

  Beth spoke for them. ‘We are looking for a room, and we intend to get jobs, but we’re not sure . . .’

  ‘You won’t need jobs if you move in here, not two good-lookers like you. I could put work your way. Agnes’ll tell you. She does reet well, does Agnes.’

  ‘I’m not for doing the work Agnes does. I – we – came here to get her help, as we haven’t anywhere. We . . . we were after losing our jobs and the rooms as went with them.’

  ‘If you’re from that convent Agnes came from, I don’t give much for your chances. Folk as take girls on round here want to know where they come from, and want references. There’s nowt so snobby as those who’ve made money. They’re nothing like them as were born to it. Have you any skills? Dressmaking or owt like that?’

  ‘No, but to be sure we are quick learners, and as true as it is we have no background, we’re not scum, either.’