Vintage Love

by Clarissa Ross

  She had no idea what Peg intended to do—beyond her wild dream of marrying someone rich. Becky found this a little sad and wished that it might be possible, but she knew life too well to believe it could happen. She hoped that perhaps Bob Reeves would pop the question to Peg, or failing that, that her younger sister might also find employment somewhere.

  These thoughts ran through her mind as she listened to Peg noisily setting the table in the kitchen. She paid no attention to this, though she might have normally reprimanded her sister. Instead, she went to the window of the ground floor flat, in the four-story house and gazed out into the fog-ridden street. The yellow cloud was so heavy that everything was dripping from its dampness. Figures hurried by like shrouded ghosts.

  She was about to turn from the window when she heard a voice in the distance. She halted, thinking she recognized it. Then as the voice came closer she realized it was the shrill voice of Jimmy Davis, the dwarf who worked with her father at the shipyard. It was Jimmy’s peculiar talent that he could climb into the smallest cranny when it was needed, and do jobs which ordinary men could not manage. He and her father had become good friends, and Jimmy often smoked a pipe or two by their fireside after the evening meal.

  Now he was coming running down the street and shouting. And as he reached the house, she knew that he was calling out her name, in a kind of wailing fashion, “Becky! Miss Becky!”

  She threw open the door, and he came stumbling down the dark hall to face her in the doorway. Her blood chilled as she stared at the little man and asked, “What is wrong, Jimmy?”

  There were tears on the dwarf’s weathered cheeks. He was hatless, and he looked up at her sadly, his graying hair in disarray. He said, “There’s been an accident!” He had a fearful expression on his bearded, but not unpleasant face.

  “Go on!” she implored him.

  “Oh, Miss Becky,” he said sobbing. “I ran here all the way, and now I don’t want to be the first to tell you!”

  “I must know!” she said, feeling sick with apprehension. “An accident? What sort of accident?”

  “Your father, poor Barney,” the little man said. “He fell from a high scaffolding. All the way to the bottom of the yard. He was dead when we got to him. Died right away.”

  A pale-faced Peg had emerged from the kitchen and asked in a frightened voice, “Is it father?”

  Becky put an arm around her for comfort. “Yes,” she said in a taut voice. “Father was killed in a fall! There’s just the two of us now!”

  “No!” Peg said brokenly and pressed against her sobbing.

  Little Jimmy Davis had recovered from his own sorrow a little and stood gazing up at the two girls awkwardly. He said, “I was-confused. I didn’t want you to hear it from a stranger.”

  “You were right, Jimmy,” Becky said, trying to suppress the tremor in her own voice, fighting to hold back her own great sorrow for the sobbing Peg’s; sake. “Father would have wished it so. He would have wanted us to hear it from a friend.”

  “Thank you, Miss Becky,” the little man said. “Is there anything I can do?”

  She soothed the sobbing Peg and then asked quietly, “When will they bring him here?”

  “They’re on the way now,” Jimmy said. “A half-dozen of the best lads bringing him here on a stretcher. You’ll be wanting to lay him out in the parlor, I suppose.”

  “Yes,” Becky said, feeling it all had to be a bad dream from which she would awaken in a moment. None of it true, all part of a frightening nightmare. “You’d better go to Gower Street and fetch Mr. Longbeck, the undertaker. We’ll be requiring his services.”

  “I’ll go at once,” the dwarf said, turning.

  “Tell him to bring the same sort of coffin he supplied for my mother,” she called after the little man.

  Jimmy was already at the front door. “Aye! I’ll tell him!” And he vanished in the fog.

  Barney Lee lay in his plain coffin in a corner of the tiny parlor looking more at rest than at any time since he’d lost his wife. Mr. Longbeck in his shabby black suit and high hat draped with black crepe had done his usual efficient work on the dead man. The coffin was not lined, but Becky had found a small silk pillow beloved by her late mother, and it seemed suitable that her father’s head should rest on it. His worn but almost handsome face showed no sign of pain.

  The dwarf, Jimmy Davis, wiped a tear from his eye as he sat on a stool near the coffin and said those very words, “He could well be asleep!”

  The soft light of the flickering candles in the room seemed suitable for the occasion. Peg sat very still and silent, obviously still suffering from shock. It fell on Becky to greet those coming to pay their respects and offer them cups of tea. The women of the neighborhood, her mother’s friends, came first, a somewhat worn and haggard group familiar with life’s sadness. One hesitated to whisper on her way out, “He is at peace! It is you girls who are to be worried about.”

  Becky listened, and with her pride coming to her rescue, she said, “Don’t worry about us. We’ll manage. I have plans.” Which wasn’t precisely true but would suffice for the moment.

  Then her father’s fellow-workers came shuffling in to pause a moment by the coffin and make some uneasy comment. They tried to show their sympathy, but they were a rough lot who for so long had repressed their emotions that they now had hardly any to call on. Tongue-tied and embarrassed, they came and quickly left.

  The funeral was held the next morning with a drizzle of rain and the remnants of the fog. Their father was buried in an old churchyard in the district through an arrangement with Mr. Longbeck, who had found a place for their mother to rest in the same burial ground.

  As the small crowd which had assembled melted away and the half-drunk grave-diggers began to fill in the grave, the old Vicar of St. Quentin’s shook their hands and wished them well. Then he walked off like one lost in his own thoughts.

  Only then did the sallow and gaunt-faced Mr. Longbeck remove his crepe-decorated black top hat and bow courteously. In his nasal voice, he said, “I have not bothered you young ladies with the monetary side of this sad business. Now, I fear, the time has come. Let me tender my accounting of it all.” And he rummaged in an inner pocket and produced a folded statement which he passed to Becky.

  She opened the statement and studied it. While it seemed fair enough, it was several pounds more than she’d expected. She glanced at the thin man. “It cost more than my mother’s funeral,” she pointed out.

  Mr. Longbeck looked embarrassed. “True, dear girl. But in the matter of a year my expenses have risen most grievously, so I have no choice but to pass the increases on.”

  Becky folded the bill. “I understand,’ she said quietly. “You need not worry; you will be paid.”

  Mr. Longbeck coughed politely. “When, dear lady?”

  She said, “Within the week. My father would wish it done promptly.”

  Mr. Longbeck’s gaunt face at once became brighter. “That will be most satisfactory, my dear. Most satisfactory!” He put on his top hat and glancing back at the grave diggers who’d almost completed their task of filling in the grave, he said, “I think it all went very well, do you not agree?”

  “I agree, Mr. Longbeck,” she said tautly. “And now, if you don’t mind, my sister and I would like to be alone. We need quiet.”

  “Of course,” the thin man said sympathetically. “Within the week then!” And he bowed and marched out the cemetery gate.

  Peg, still sick and pale, found her voice and said, “What a horrible man! I expect he charged us double what he should have!”

  Becky sighed. “Hardly that, but enough! More than we have, as a matter of fact.”

  “What shall we do?” Peg stared at her with concern.

  “We shall manage,” Becky said firmly as they began to leave the cemetery, walking towards the street nearby. “Father would want it so, though we shall likely have to give up the flat and sell our furniture.”

  “Sell the furni
ture!” Peg wailed. “Where can we go without furniture?”

  “We must find positions where rooms are provided,” Becky said. “Perhaps in the household of some rich family. We will have to seek work as maids. This may be your chance. You’ve always wanted to marry a rich man! Maybe you’ll meet one this way.”

  “Rich men never marry servants!” Peg lamented.

  “Wrong,” Becky assured her. “They often do. All the romantic novels tell of such matches.”

  “We are not living in a romantic novel!” Peg said unhappily.

  Becky gave her a sharp look as they walked along. She said, “At least you’ve learned that useful truth!”

  When they reached the cheerless ground floor flat which had seemed so happy a home before their parents died, they had another grim surprise awaiting them in the person of Mrs. Medwick, the owner of the building. She had shown the effrontery of letting herself into the flat and waiting for them seated in their best chair.

  Mrs. Medwick was large, and had a bloated, red face and wispy gray hair. She reeked of gin no matter the time of day or night. She stared up at the girls sullenly as they entered.

  “No need to be surprised,” she said roughly. “This is my house!”

  “I consider it ours as long as we rent it,” Becky said. Peg stood back looking awed.

  Mrs. Medwick rose ponderously. “I will not take offence at that. I could, mark you, but I will not. I shall simply tell you that since you already owe for a month’s rent I consider the flat no longer yours.”

  “I’ll see you are paid, Mrs. Medwick,” Becky said.

  The big woman mocked her manner, saying, “Will you, now? And what with? After the funeral expenses are looked after. And I know Longbeck doesn’t offer his services free! He always gets his!”

  Becky said, “We will pay you. But we shall be leaving here the first of the week. So you may plan on letting the place to someone else.”

  Mrs. Medwick’s bloated face showed a nasty smile. “I’ve already done that! Party is coming to occupy on Monday. So you be out of here by then. And don’t expect to take this furniture with you unless my rent is paid in full! In full, mind you!” And with this threat she ambled out.

  When the door closed behind the big woman Peg turned to Becky and said, “What will we do? If we can’t sell the furniture, we can’t raise the money to pay her.”

  “It will work out,” Becky said with a confidence she did not feel. “We have not heard from the shipyard yet. Father’s employers, Gregg and Kerr, may be planning to offer us some money because of father’s being killed at work. In any event, we have coming to us whatever wages he had earned to the time of his death.”

  For the first time, Peg showed a more hopeful look on her pretty young face. She said, “When will we know about that?”

  “By tonight,” Becky said, removing her straw bonnet. “Jimmy Davis is going to speak to the partners, and he is coming by here on his way home.”

  “Ugly little dwarf!” Peg said with a grimace.

  “Don’t say that!” Becky rebuked her. “He was our father’s best friend, and he is ours as well. You may be sure he will do all he can for us.”

  They spent the afternoon making a list of all which was saleable and trying to guess what price each item might bring. The total was not large, even when they were careful to try and set a proper price. They would not make much from the sale. But even a little would help.

  A little after five the dwarf arrived. The girls let him in and pulled up the stool on which he always sat. Then they sat facing him, Becky hoping for the best and Peg even showing some signs of interest.

  Becky asked the little man, “How did you make out, Jimmy?”

  The dwarf looked miserable and tugged at his graying beard with a small hand. He said, “They gave me the wages he’d earned right enough.”

  “I should hope so!” Becky exclaimed.

  The dwarf showed embarrassment as he reached in his pocket and then handed some coins over to her. “Fifteen bob! Not much, I’d say!”

  Peg sounded indignant. “Fifteen bob! That’s all?”

  “That’s all,” the little man said sadly. “I’m sorry.”

  Becky looked at the coins in her palm and said, “I can’t believe that they wouldn’t have at least sent his full week’s wages.”

  Jimmy Davis said, “They’re hard men, Miss Becky. It’s a cruel company. We all know that.”

  Becky said, “Did you speak with both partners?”

  “Only with Mark Gregg,” the dwarf said. “Mr. Kerr’s health has been poor lately, and he seldom comes to the shipyard.”

  “And what did Mark Gregg say?”

  Jimmy sighed. “He gave me the fifteen bob and said to tell you he sent you his sympathy.”

  “I wonder that he could afford it!” Becky said with scathing sarcasm.

  Peg complained, “How can anyone be so heartless?”

  The little man’s large face showed frustration. “They are cruel people, Miss Peggy. This is a cruel business, filled with competition in these days of the new iron ships. Gregg and Kerr are still building wooden ships and the call for them is going down.”

  “Why don’t they build iron ships?” Becky wanted to know.

  “I’ve heard old man Kerr is against it,” the dwarf said. “But Mark Gregg has been unhappy with the present policy ever since the Great Eastern was launched in 1858. Biggest iron ship afloat! They say she’ll make history! Some think there’s a curse on her because two workers were lost in the construction, and many claim they were caught between the false bottom and the hull and not noticed until all the section was closed in. They say their ghosts haunt the ship and will eventually doom it!”

  Becky said, “So this means Gregg and Kerr are not doing as well as they might?”

  “Correct!” Jimmy said. “But they’re doing fairly well. They could well pay you some good sum for your father losing his life on the job. Especially considering the facts.”

  “Facts?” Becky asked crisply. “What are the facts?”

  He looked uneasy. And then in a low voice, he said, “Well, I was told the scaffolding on which your father was working when he fell hadn’t been properly set up. That it swayed so as to make you ill.”

  Becky said, “You’re saying my father was sent up there to work on a scaffolding which wasn’t safe?”

  The little man nodded. “That’s about the size of it!”

  Peg exclaimed, “They are murderers! It’s almost the same as if they deliberately killed my father!”

  “Mr. Mark Gregg doesn’t see it so,” the dwarf told her. “But I must admit I agree with you. If that scaffolding had been set up the way it should, I haven’t a doubt your father would be alive this very moment.”

  Becky sat back in her chair with a shocked look on her lovely face. “I shall have to see this Mark Gregg,” she said.

  Peg gave her a disgusted look. “He’ll never agree to see you. Don’t you know that!”

  “What do you think?” Becky asked their father’s best friend. “Do you think he’ll see me?”

  “I think it’s worth a try.” Becky said, her young face offering a grim look.

  “You could try and talk with him,” the little man said with despair. “I did not manage well with him as I’ve testified. But perhaps the sight of a pretty face might help. They say he is more fond of liquor and women! He’d never done a lick of work until he was left his share of the yard by his father. Now he is the meanest of the lot of them!”

  Becky said warmly, “Thank you for all you’ve done, Jimmy. And for telling me the truth about dear father’s accident.”

  “I thought you should know,” the little man said. “And I have some money of my own if you’d let me help you. I’ve saved it against sickness, but you’re welcome to every penny of it!”

  “Do you mean that, Jimmy?” Peg asked with delight.

  Becky turned on her younger sister swiftly and informed her, “Whether he means it or not
, we are not going to take his money!”

  “Why not?” Peg asked in astonishment.

  “Because he needs it for himself and his own family,” she exclaimed. “You are forgetting he has a widowed mother and two spinster sisters to look after.”

  “They do not grudge you the money,” the dwarf promised her.

  “Say no more,” Becky told him. “We will manage well enough with our own resources, though we do appreciate your offer. And I intend to talk to Mr. Mark Gregg and speak to him of my father’s death. It is not to pass without some mention being made of it.”

  “I agree, Miss Becky,” Jimmy Davis said, getting down from the stool. “I wish I had done better.”

  “You musn’t worry yourself,” Becky said, escorting the little man out. “We have plans and we’ll make out. And I’ll let Mark Gregg know he had better not take his workers’ lives so cheaply in the future.”

  “You do that, Miss,” Jimmy agreed. “He needs to be told how hard he is!”

  After Becky had seen the dwarf out, she found Peg looking angry. The redhead cried, “How could you refuse his money, with us in this terrible plight? You must be mad!”

  “I will not rob those as poor as ourselves,” Becky told her sister with determination.

  Peg sank down into a nearby chair and cried, “We shall find ourselves in debtors’ prison!”

  “Allow me to worry about that,” Becky said, placing a comforting hand on her sister’s shoulder. “I’m doing as I think our parents would have wished.”

  She knew this was small comfort, even though it was the truth. And she was far from being the cool, collected person she allowed Peg to see. Actually she was quaking inwardly and full of fears for what would happen to them. But she knew Peg was of weaker clay than herself, and she did not want her to collapse. So she maintained this facade of knowing exactly what would happen next.

  The next morning she dressed carefully in her best and made her way through the winding streets of the dockside area on the route to Gregg and Kerr’s shipyard. She had left Peg with a neighbor woman of a jolly nature and hoped all would be well. Now she was forcing herself to have a confrontation with the legendary Mark Gregg.