‘Well I had a bit of business down this way so I thought I’d hang about for you.’
Joe caught the edge of Freddie’s new jacket and rubbed it between his thumb and forefinger. ‘It feels so soft,’ he said, feeling the velvet pile. ‘It must have cost loads of money.’
‘You know me, son, I won’t have no rubbish. Watch out.’ Freddie pulled the maroon fabric out of Joe’s fingers. ‘You’ll make it grubby.’
Joe’s hand dropped to his side. ‘And are they solid gold?’ he asked, looking in awe at Freddie’s cufflinks.
‘Yer,’ Freddie replied, getting them to twinkle in the afternoon spring sunlight. They were plate really but Joe wouldn’t know the difference. ‘I thought I might wander down to the Tower and get myself a coffee. Do you want to come?’
Joe jumped up. ‘Can I?’
Freddie smiled. ‘Course.’ He sauntered off towards the river with Joe trotting alongside him.
Freddie held his head up and caroused through the well-dressed crowd of men and women ambling along the riverbank. A couple of young Spitalfields fingersmiths working their art among the sightseers spotted him, tipped their hats respectfully as he and Joe made their way to the refreshment vendors by the ticket office.
‘Can I have a lemonade?’ Joe asked as Freddie ordered himself a coffee.
‘I ain’t made of money, boy, but here you go.’ He handed Joe a tuppence. ‘Run and get yourself a small one.’
Joe took the money and ran off. As he watched his young son queue for his drink a lump thickened in Freddie’s throat. Joe paid for his lemonade and carried it back using both hands to hold it steady. He set it on the wall, then scrambled up and sat down. He smiled shyly at his father. The urge to take his son in his arms swept over Freddie. He made to raise his arm but then stopped himself.
‘Are you all right, Pa?’ Joe asked.
Freddie swallowed. ‘Course I am. Never better. Why?’
Joe shrugged and picked up his drink. ‘You just looked a bit funny, that’s all.’
‘I was just thinking of a pal of mine who lost his little lad a couple of weeks ago.’
‘What, did he run off?’
‘He died. In a fire.’
‘Oooh. That’s sad,’ Joe said, taking a contemplative sip of lemonade. ‘Pa, are you coming home?’
‘You know your mother won’t let me, boy. She’s set her fucking tinker brother and half of Irish town after me – not to mention her sister’s poxy husband.’ He glanced down at Joe. ‘Not that I couldn’t take ’em both in a straight fight.’
‘I know you could, Pa,’ Joe replied.
‘Good. And make sure you don’t let anyone say otherwise, do you hear?’ Freddie said.
‘I’d bash them if they did,’ Joe replied, putting up his fists and punching the air.
Freddie chuckled. ‘Make sure you do.’
Joe’s happy expression vanished. ‘Is that why you didn’t come around Christmas?’
‘Christmas! Cor, that was months ago.’
‘But you said you’d be there,’ Joe persisted.
‘Give it a rest, Joe. I’ve got things to do and can’t hang around here all day. You’d better run along home.’
‘When will I see you again, Pa?’ Joe asked, looking up at him with tears shimmering in his eyes.
Freddie hesitated for a moment then bent down until his face was level with Joe’s. ‘I’ll tell you what. If you promise not to tell a living soul, I’ll meet you here next Thursday after school. What do you say?’
Joe jumped up and down with excitement.
Freddie grinned. ‘OK. But when I say “don’t tell a soul”, I mean no one. Not your school chums, your sister, and especially not your ma. Do you understand?’
Joe nodded seriously and his cap slid off.
‘Off you go then, son.’ He ruffled his son’s hair.
Joe looked surprised for an instant then scooped up his cap and dashed off home. As he got to the bottom of the road he stopped and waved at Freddie then disappeared. Freddie pulled the cigar out of his top pocket and lit it.
He shouldn’t mollycoddle Joe of course – he had enough of that from his mother – but perhaps it was time he stepped in and steered Joe on to the right path.
Chapter Eighteen
The tip of Joe’s tongue curled over his top lip as he concentrated on making the p in Joseph sit within the horizontal lines on his slate. All around him, the other twenty-five boys in the classroom sat hunched over their desks, concentrating on similar tasks. Having positioned the fifth letter of his name to his satisfaction, Joe turned his attention to the last letter. Repositioning his scriber, he started at the top, drew a line down, then tried to make it go up but it just squiggled off to the right. He kicked his boot against the leg of the desk. It was too hard! Pa said school was a waste of time and he was right. Why did he need to go to fucking school anyhow?
‘Ellis,’ Captain Quinn’s voice boomed above him.
Joe stood up. ‘Yes, sir.’
‘You’ll never master the art of writing by daydreaming out of the window.’ He tapped the rectangular piece of board with Joe’s name on it. ‘Now start again.’
‘Yes, sir.’ Joe sat down.
Clasping his hands behind his back, Captain Quinn walked between the school benches to his desk at the front of the class. Joe poked out his tongue at the headmaster’s back the way his father told him he used to.
He gripped his scriber firmly and finished his lesson. As he scratched the tail of the last s, Captain Quinn stood up and rang the bell on his desk.
The boys sat upright while the monitors collected the slates. Captain Quinn led the class in the end-of-day prayer and after twenty-six young voices said ‘Amen’ the row of boys filed towards the door where the headmaster waited to bid them goodbye.
‘Good evening, Ellis.’
‘Good evening, Headmaster.’ He waited to be dismissed but Captain Quinn spoke again.
‘You know, you’re not without brains and with a little more effort, you could be one of St Katharine’s star pupils.’
Joe puffed out his chest. ‘Thank you, Headmaster.’
‘I’ve also noticed you are very good at drawing. The copy of a fox you did in nature study was one of the best I’ve seen. Your mother might want to consider apprenticing you to a cartographer – that’s someone who makes maps. How would you like that?’
Joe’s eyes opened wide. Uncle Pat had lots of maps in his office and Cousin Mickey had let Joe trace the curves of the river last time he, Ma and Ella had visited.
He stood a little taller. ‘That would be right grand.’
‘Well then, Ellis. No map-maker will take you on unless you master the alphabet and arithmetic.’
Joe’s shoulders slumped. ‘Yes, sir. I will try harder.’
‘Good. If you can complete your primer by the summer, then I might even consider making you a board monitor, but only if you put more effort into your lessons.’
‘Thank you, sir,’ Joe said, bobbing on to the balls of his toes.
‘Off you go, then. And don’t dawdle on your way home and worry your mother.’
Joe stood to attention and then walked tall into the schoolyard. At the far end, leaning against the wall, were a crowd of older boys. Joe’s heart sank as he saw Chalky White in the middle of them. Chalky was just short of twelve but looked two years older and was leaving St Katharine’s in the summer. Joe heartily wished he’d already gone.
Joe fixed his eyes on the school gate and, remembering Captain Quinn’s story about St George facing the dragon, he marched across the yard.
Chalky peeled himself off the wall and sauntered across with his gang behind him, blocking Joe’s escape. His guts churned, but Joe pulled his shoulders back and walked up to the group of boys.
‘Oi, Teacher’s Pet,’ Chalky said, planting himself in Joe’s path. ‘What’s old Nelson kept you back for?’
‘Captain Quinn just asked me about the slate.’
‘Captain Quinn. Captain Quinn,’ Chalky mimicked in a high girly voice. The boys around him sniggered. Chalky stepped closer. ‘I bet he was telling you what a good little boy you were.’
‘I told you it was about the slates. Now let me pass.’ Joe tried to walk between them but the bigger boy pushed him back.
‘You’re a fucking liar,’ Chalky said, as he advanced towards Joe. ‘A fucking liar. Just like your old man.’ He lowered his face until his nose almost touched Joe’s. ‘Did you hear me, Teacher’s Pet?’
Joe balled his fists but then remembered the possibility of becoming a board monitor. ‘My pa’s not,’ he replied, trying to imitate the headmaster’s measured tone.
Chalky’s top lip curled. ‘If he isn’t, tell us where he’s been for the last five years.’
‘At sea,’ Joe answered.
The boys standing behind Chalky held their stomachs, bent double and hung onto each other’s shoulders, laughing.
‘What’s so funny?’
Chalky wiped his dry eyes. ‘Did you hear that? Poor little bugger thinks his pa’s been at sea.’ His eyes narrowed. ‘Your pa ain’t been at sea, he’s been in the clink for nicking a load of silver.’
Something thick seemed to crowd into Joe’s mind and he shoved Chalky in the chest. ‘You take that back, White!’
‘Or what?’
Joe balled his fist and the bones cracked. ‘I’ll knock your block off.’
‘What and have Nelson on at you for fighting in the—’
Joe’s fist smashed into Chalky’s protruding teeth. They split his knuckles but Joe hardly felt it. He punched Chalky again. This time on the nose, splattering blood across both of them. Joe’s feet found their targets on the older boy’s shins and the toe of Joe’s boot caught Charlie just below the knee with a sickening crunch. Chalky groaned and his leg buckled. Joe leapt on him as he crashed to the ground and continued punching, kicking and gouging at his face.
A roar went up but to Joe it sounded a long way away. His fists smashed into his tormentor’s face over and over. He felt hands on him trying to pull him away but he shook them off.
‘My pa’s not a liar,’ he screamed.
Suddenly strong hands grasped his shoulders and Joe found himself punching air. He tried to wriggle free but was held fast.
‘That’s enough, Ellis!’ a deep voice commanded.
Joe drew in a sharp breath and the fog in his head started to clear. His feet scraped the floor as he was set down. He shook his head and looked up into Captain Quinn’s furious face.
‘I said, that’s enough!’ Captain Quinn repeated, as he looked at the boys.
Joe followed the headmaster’s gaze and gasped when he saw Chalky being helped up by two of his friends. He stared in disbelief at the boy’s closed left eye, split lip and bloody nose.
‘Run along home, White,’ Captain Quinn said.
‘Yes, sir,’ mumbled Chalky through his swollen lips. He limped out of the schoolyard supported under the arms by two other boys.
Captain Quinn turned to Joe. ‘Haven’t I made it quite clear that I will not tolerate fighting in the school?’
Joe hung his head. ‘Yes, sir.’
‘Then why did you attack William White? I saw you arguing from my window. What’s this all about, Ellis?’
‘I can’t tell.’
‘Why can’t you tell?’
‘Because my pa told me that everyone hates a nark, so I’m not saying.’
‘You can go home now, Ellis,’ Captain Quinn said, in a disappointed tone that hurt Joe more than his cut knuckles. ‘Ask your mother to come to my office tomorrow after school. We will discuss the whole incident then.’
Captain Quinn turned on his heels and marched back across the schoolyard. An odd feeling settled behind Joe’s breastbone as he watched his headmaster’s tall figure disappear through the door. He forced it away and turned his back on the school. Pa was right. School was a waste of time.
Kate sat dressed in her Sunday gown and best bonnet staring at Captain Quinn’s study door, but instead of her heart thumping in her chest in anticipation, something akin to panic ran through her. She glared down at Joe sitting with two black eyes and his cap in his hands beside her. Sensing her furious stare he looked up at her with the same blasé expression she’d seen too often on Freddie’s face.
The door finally opened. Kate’s heart skipped a couple of beats as Captain Quinn stepped out.
‘Mrs Ellis,’ he said, his gaze warming a little as it rested on her. ‘Would you care to step into my office?’ He stood back from the door.
Kate took Joe’s hand and walked through. The headmaster closed the door and indicated the seat in front of his desk. Kate sat and Joe stood beside her.
‘Thank you for coming, Mrs Ellis,’ he said as he resumed his seat on the other side of the desk. ‘Joe has probably told you what happened yesterday.’
Kate nodded. ‘Joe is very sorry about his behaviour, Captain Quinn. Aren’t you, Joe?’
Joe gazed out of the window.
Captain Quinn’s lips drew into a tight line. ‘Joseph Ellis, your mother asked you a question,’ he boomed.
Joe jumped. ‘Yes, sir. I am very sorry,’ he said in a flat tone. ‘But Pa told me to hit them first.’
‘Did he?’
‘Yes.’
‘But why did you hit William White? Was he bullying you? If he was, I would like to know as I will not tolerate such cowardly behaviour.’
Joe shifted his weight onto his other foot. ‘I can take care of myself.’
Captain Quinn rested his arms on the desk and laced his fingers together. ‘Why did you attack him?’
A truculent expression spread across Joe’s face and Kate’s temper boiled over. ‘Joseph Patrick Ellis. Don’t disgrace me by acting like you’ve never been taught manners and answer the headmaster’s question.’
‘But Pa said—’
‘I don’t care what your pa said,’ Kate retorted, glaring at her son. ‘I’m telling you to explain why you beat another boy’s nose into a piece of chewed meat!’
‘He said Pa’s been in prison. But it ain’t true, is it, Ma?’ he asked, looking pleadingly up at her.
A lump suddenly formed in Kate’s throat and the floor tilted slightly.
Captain Quinn stood up and came around the desk to stand beside them. ‘Master Ellis. People will say all sorts of things, hurtful things, but that isn’t an excuse for the savage behaviour you displayed yesterday. Unless you learn to control your temper, it will land you in a great deal more trouble than a trip to my office.’ Joe hung his head and Captain Quinn rested his hand lightly on his shoulder. ‘How do you think I would have survived under fire from the enemy if I’d let my temper rule my reason?’
Joe looked up into Captain Quinn’s face and so did Kate.
‘I suppose I won’t be a board monitor now,’ Joe said, running his cap around in his hands.
‘That depends on whether or not you learn from this lesson and I see an improvement in your attitude,’ Captain Quinn replied, looking down at him severely.
Joe stood up straight. ‘I promise you, sir, I won’t fight in the playground again.’
‘No, you won’t.’ Captain Quinn looked at Kate over her son’s head and a warm feeling stole over her. He smiled and she smiled back. ‘Now wait outside while I have a word with your mother. And remember what I’ve said.’
‘Yes, sir.’ Joe turned smartly and left the office.
Kate looked up at Captain Quinn. ‘Thank you for being so understanding,’ she said. ‘I’m sure Joe has learnt his lesson but are you sure the other boy has? What if he picks on Joe again?’
Captain Quinn raised an eyebrow. ‘I don’t think any of the schoolyard bullies will be bothering your son after the drubbing he gave William White yesterday. But that’s not the only reason I asked you to come and see me. It’s because I’m concerned about Joe’s attitude in class.’
‘But Joe likes school,’ Kate said. ‘Why, on
ly the day before yesterday he was showing me how he swung his arms like a soldier when he did drill.’
‘Yes but sometimes after doing an excellent piece of work he’ll deliberately do something that lands him in trouble. I’m sorry to have to tell you, Mrs Ellis, but young though he is, Joe is getting himself a reputation for being a jester. And it will do him no good. I’ve seen it too often in the barrack room. A man gets himself known as a troublemaker and it follows him wherever he goes.’
‘But Joe’s a good boy,’ Kate said, trying not to imagine a grownup Joe wearing a flash suit and billycock hat.
‘He is, and bright, too,’ Captain Quinn replied. ‘I think he could do very well if he applied himself. He might even win a scholarship to one of the new trade colleges. But in the past month his behaviour has become progressively worse.’
‘I know . . . I . . .’ Kate’s voice started to falter and the fear that had begun to keep her awake at night rose to the surface.
Captain Quinn pulled up a chair and sat beside her. ‘You can tell me, Mrs Ellis.’
Kate looked up into his face. ‘I think Joe’s been seeing his father.’
Captain Quinn’s expression darkened. ‘He hasn’t been to the house, has he? He hasn’t manhandled you in any way, has he? Because if he—’
‘No,’ Kate replied, warmed by the concern of his tone. ‘There are too many people who’d tell my brother if they saw him hanging around. I think he meets Joe somewhere else.’
‘What does Joe say?’
‘When I ask him he denies it and then gets upset and goes into himself. But I’m sure he has seen Freddie because I’ve smelt tobacco on him a couple of times,’ Kate said. ‘And he’s got cheekier recently. He’s been sent to bed early twice this week for swearing in the house. I’m sure it’s his father’s influence but I can’t prove it.’ Kate pulled out her handkerchief from her bag but not quickly enough to stop a large tear from rolling down her cheek.
‘I’m sorry,’ she said, dabbing her eyes and forcing a smile. ‘Please forgive me, for once again burdening you with my pro—’
He caught her arm. ‘As I’ve said before, your concerns could never be a burden to me, Mrs Ellis,’ he said gruffly.
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