Hold On to Hope

by Jean Fullerton

  ‘Thank you,’ she said, forcing her voice to remain steady.

  ‘Not at all. Good evening, Mrs Ellis, and, as always, I look forward to seeing you in church on Sunday.’

  ‘Good evening, Captain Quinn,’ she said, then left the office.

  Joe jumped up from the chair when she emerged.

  ‘I’m sorry, Ma,’ he said, as he took her hand.

  ‘I know you are, which is why we’ll say no more about it,’ Kate replied.

  Ella skipped down the Highway swinging her satchel in one hand and holding her bonnet with the other. She circumvented the barrels of whale oil outside the dealers and jumped just in time to avoid being soaked by the bucket full of bloody water thrown out of the butcher’s by his wife.

  St George’s clock struck four as she passed the church. School had finished an hour ago but Miss Wainwright had asked her and Rose to stay behind to help prepare the slates for the next day.

  As Ma was taking Joe to have his hair cut before the shop opened for the evening trade she knew it would be all right if she agreed. In fact, Miss Wainwright had asked her twice last week and the week before and had even hinted that when the older girls left in the summer, she might become a monitor.

  She was top of the class at sewing and Miss Wainwright said that if her mother could find the premium, one of the big couture houses in Mayfair might take her on as an apprentice. But Ella was beginning to think she might like to be a teacher, until she got married, of course.

  Within a few moments she was outside the shop. The sign at the front was turned to ‘closed’ and the chairs were all pushed under the tables.

  Waving hello to the draper’s assistant rearranging his window display, Ella turned the corner and headed for the back gate. She was just about to lift the flowerpot to retrieve the back-door key when she noticed it was sticking out of the lock and that the door was ajar.

  Cautiously, she pushed it open and crept along the hallway to the parlour. Everything was much as it should have been except that the dresser drawer wasn’t closed properly. One of the china vases on the mantelshelf was also in the wrong place.

  Ella heard movement behind the door leading to the shop and her heart thumped uncomfortably in her chest. She edged towards the hallway.

  The door burst open and Freddie marched into the room.

  He spotted her. ‘Oh, it’s you sneaking around,’ he said guiltily.

  ‘What are you doing here?’ Ella asked fearfully.

  He shoved his hands in his pockets and an innocent expression formed on his face. ‘Just having a bit of a look around.’

  ‘Are you pinching Ma’s money again?’

  He sneered at her. ‘It ain’t hers it’s mine, you stupid girl, cos I’m her husband.’

  ‘The vicar says stealing’s a sin and you’ll go to hell.’

  ‘Tell the fucking vicar I’ll see ’im there.’ He shoved her aside.

  The back door opened and Kate walked in. Ella ran to her. ‘He’s taken money out of the till again, Ma,’ she said.

  ‘I’m sure he has,’ Kate replied, looking contemptuously at him. ‘You’re brave coming back here, aren’t you, Freddie?’

  Freddie’s face darkened but before he could reply Joe threw his cap on the table and dashed to his father.

  ‘Pa, you’re here.’

  Freddie shot Kate a hateful look then turned to his son. ‘How are you, boy?’

  ‘Glad to see you, Pa,’ Joe said, beaming up at his father.

  Kate opened the door to the hall and stood back. ‘If you’ve got what you’ve come for I won’t keep you.’

  Joe tugged at his arm. ‘I got all the names of the animals right on the chart, Pa.’

  Freddie shook him off. ‘Don’t you fucking order me about, woman. The law says I can come and go as I please.’

  ‘My brother and his mates in Knockfergus say different.’

  Freddie clenched his fists and Ella prayed fervently he wouldn’t lash out at her mother again. She wouldn’t be able to run to Captain Quinn fast enough.

  Freddie stood rooted to the spot for a second then snatched the milk jug from the table and hurled it at Kate. It whizzed within inches of her face and smashed on the wall, splashing milk everywhere.

  Slowly, Kate picked up a tea towel and wiped her arm. She looked coolly at Freddie. ‘As I said, don’t let us detain you.’

  Freddie kicked a chair out of his way and started for the door.

  Joe caught his arm. ‘Where you going, Pa?’

  ‘To the pub,’ he replied, glaring hatefully at Kate.

  ‘Can I come?’

  ‘No, you can’t,’ Kate said.

  Freddie stopped. ‘He didn’t ask you.’

  Kate grabbed Joe’s shoulders but he twisted out of her grip and dashed to Freddie’s side.

  ‘Can I come then, Pa? Can I?’ he pleaded beseechingly.

  Kate came around the table and stood in front of Freddie. ‘He’s too young.’

  ‘Rubbish. I was about his age when my old man first took me. I’ve had enough of you and that one-eyed schoolmaster stuffing my son’s bonce with all sorts of toffee-nosed rubbish. It’s about time he learnt how to be a proper man.’ He rested his hand lightly on Joe’s shoulder. ‘And that’s a father’s job.’

  Kate gave him a mocking look. ‘What, to take him to meet drunks and whores?’

  Freddie raised his fist. ‘Watch your mouth.’

  Kate stood her ground. ‘Or what? You’ll show him how to be a man, will you?’

  Freddie’s face turned scarlet and his eyes bulged. For one moment Ella thought he might hit her mother but then he shoved Joe aside and crashed out of the house, shaking the glass in the back door as he slammed it behind him.

  Joe stood with his mouth open in dismay as he watched his father stride out of the kitchen. He spun around and glared at his mother. ‘I want to go with Pa!’

  ‘Joe, you’re too young.’ She guided him back to the table. ‘Now sit up at the table and eat your supper. There’re children in the workhouse who’d be glad of your stew.’

  He twisted out of her grip. ‘I don’t care. You’re always telling me no.’ He crossed his arms across his chest and bit his lip until it hurt. ‘You never let me have fun.’

  ‘It’s not like that,’ his mother replied, trying to soothe him. ‘The places your pa goes to are full of bad people.’

  Joe just tucked himself in tighter and frowned at the floor. ‘My pa’s the best pa in the world and he wants to take me with him, just like Uncle Pat does with Mickey and Rob but you won’t let him.’

  ‘Joe, me darling.’ She tried to catch him again but he shrugged her off.

  ‘You hate him and me,’ he screamed as tears ran down his face. He dashed at her and shoved her in the stomach. ‘I’m Pa’s boy, not yours.’

  He ran across the kitchen and threw the door open. With the air burning his lungs he tore into the backyard to find Pa.

  ‘Joe, come back, you’ll catch a chill,’ his mother’s voice called after him.

  ‘If you come in, Joe, I’ll let you use my pencils,’ Ella coaxed.

  Joe tucked himself behind the water butt. ‘I don’t want to.’

  There was some whispering, then his mother called again. ‘All right, Joe. I’ll put your supper on the stove but don’t go out of the gates. It’s dangerous.’

  The back door closed and the yard was silent again. Joe kicked the barrel full of rainwater. Dangerous! Did she think he was a baby? It wouldn’t be dangerous if she’d let him go with Pa in the first place.

  He shoved his hands in his pockets as he’d seen his father do and marched to the gate. He pushed it open a crack and peered down the dark empty street.

  He imagined himself walking alongside his father into the bar of the Blue Coat Boy. Everyone would know who he was because he looked the replica of his pa.

  Joe crouched down and hugged his knees, suddenly aware of the cold night air on his bare legs. An unhappy lump wedged in his thro
at.

  Something scraped on the other side of the yard and Joe looked up. He strained his eyes into the gloom and caught the glimpse of a faint beam of light flashing under the stable door.

  Joe trotted over, opened the door and saw his father bending over something covered with ragged tarpaulin in the far corner.

  ‘Pa!’ he shouted, hurrying towards his father.

  Freddie’s head snapped around. ‘What the—’

  His father’s fist smashed into his cheek. Joe flew backwards and hit the wall. He blinked and tried to think through the buzzing in his head. His legs felt like jelly and pain shot up his neck but he forced himself to his feet.

  ‘It’s me,’ Joe said, as his eyes focused on his father standing half-crouched with a knife in his hand.

  Freddie tucked the blade in the back of his belt and stood up. He clapped his hand over his heart. ‘For fuck’s sake. What you doing sneaking around?’

  ‘I came to find you, Pa.’

  ‘Did your mother see you slip into the stable?’ Joe shook his head. ‘Well, all right, but stay out of the way while I finish up.’

  Joe stood back to let his father secure a loose rope hanging off a crate and looked around at the barrels and boxes stacked high.

  ‘Why are all these barrels in the stable?’ he asked, twisting his head and trying to figure out what the word was painted on the side.

  ‘I’m looking after them for a friend,’ his father replied.

  ‘Can I help?’ Joe asked, lifting up a lid on one of the crates.

  Freddie grabbed his arm and dragged him away. ‘No. Now leave be. You can help me another time.’

  ‘Tomorrow?’

  ‘Perhaps.’

  ‘I can tell Ma that I’m here with you—’

  Freddie grabbed him and hauled him off the ground. ‘Don’t tell your muvver nuffink, do you hear? Nuffink!’

  ‘Yes, Pa,’ he whispered, lowering his eyes from his father’s angry face.

  ‘Make sure you don’t.’ Freddie set him down.

  Joe turned away from his father and leant against a cartwheel left over from the last occupant. He traced the rough wood of a spoke with his finger as his father finished what he was doing. His pa’s hand plonked on his shoulder and Joe looked around.

  ‘Look, son,’ Freddie said. ‘Perhaps I was a bit harsh with you but the thing is there’s . . . there’re huge rats nesting in the back and I wouldn’t want you to get bit.’

  Joe flattened himself to the wheel and fixed his eyes on the far wall. ‘Rats?’

  Freddie crouched down beside him. ‘Yeah, rats. Bloody hundreds of them. All squirming around and eating each other and if they get tired of ripping each other apart with their sharp teeth, they’ll come looking for tender human flesh.’ He squeezed Joe’s upper arm. ‘I should say they’d have a feast on you.’

  Sweat broke out on Joe’s brow and he suddenly had the urge to pass water.

  ‘I tell you, straight up, Joe. I saw one just before you came in that was this big.’ His father raised his hands and held them apart. ‘He must have been gnawing on corpses in the graveyard to get so fat.’

  Something tickled the back of Joe’s leg. He jumped forward, grabbed his father and screamed. ‘Don’t let it eat me, Pa,’ he sobbed.

  Freddie chuckled, untangled Joe from his arms and set him on the floor.

  ‘Don’t come into the stable unless I’m with you, do you hear?’ He lowered his face close to Joe’s. ‘Or else the rats might eat you.’

  Joe shook his head vigorously.

  Freddie picked up the lamp and snuffed out the wick. ‘Good. Now follow me and don’t make a sound. Now the light’s gone you don’t want the slimy buggers to know we’re here, do you?’

  Joe held on to his father’s jacket and practically walked at his heels out of the stable. Freddie closed the door quietly then opened one of the yard gates. ‘Time to wet my whistle.’ He winked. ‘I tell you, son, my stomach thinks me throat’s been cut.’

  ‘Can I come, Pa?’

  Freddie glanced down at the front of Joe’s trousers. ‘Not like that you can’t, you baby. Go and tell your mother to clean you up.’

  He shoved his hands in his pockets and disappeared through the gate whistling. Joe listen to his receding footsteps then looked down to see a damp stain spreading across the front of his trousers.

  Chapter Nineteen

  As Aggie trotted over the iron swing bridge crossing the Shadwell Cut a two-tone whistle cut through the air. She turned, knowing it was directed at her.

  ‘Oi, sweetheart, come over here,’ called one of the bare-armed stevedores working the winch hoist on the dockside. ‘This old jib,’ he thumped the metalwork beside him, ‘ain’t the only thing rising with you wiggling by.’

  His friends snorted and nudged each other.

  One of the other dockers thrust his hands in his pockets. ‘And if my mates ain’t enough for you,’ he flapped the front of his trousers. ‘I’ve got a bigger one over there.’ He nodded towards the huge steam crane hauling coal from a barge on the other side of the dock.

  The yellow feather of her hat dipped over Aggie’s face as she bent forward and lifted her skirts. Shaking off some imaginary dust, she made sure her admirers had a decent view of her calves.

  The three dockers whistled and hooted louder and some of the other men on the quayside stopped work to watch her. She straightened her skirt, blew her audience an exaggerated kiss and sauntered on, content in the knowledge that at least a dozen pairs of male eyes were glued to her rear.

  She stopped at Wapping Wall to get her bearings then continued past the Prospect of Whitby along Wapping High Street, dodging the wagons and carts as she went. Although she knew Spitalfields like the back of her hand she had only ventured south of Commercial Road a couple of times. Ginger had told her to head east along the Highway until she got to the big church and then follow the smell from the river to find Kate’s fucking Kitchen.

  Aggie tucked herself into a doorway and studied the jolly painted shop on the other side of the road. She was a stupid cow really for even bothering about Freddie’s silly little Paddy wife, but curiosity got the better of her. She turned the corner, crossed the road, and then walked into the shop.

  The bell tinkled and the low hum of conversation stopped. She looked around at all the men drinking their afternoon tea. A couple of them leered at her and nudged each other; the rest just stared. Automatically she arched her neck and gave them her I’ll-make-you-smile look. She cast her eyes around. The place was clean enough and there was a faint smell of roast meat instead of boiled cabbage like in most of the eating houses in Spitalfields. Her gaze ran over the stack of white plates, trays of cutlery and upturned mugs and then alighted on the woman behind the counter. Aggie smiled.

  No wonder Freddie looked for a bit of juicy elsewhere, she thought, studying the thin, pale-faced woman at the till.

  She puffed out her chest and swayed over. ‘I will have a coffee hif I may,’ she said, lifting her skirts to sit on a high stool.

  ‘Er . . .’

  Aggie sniffed and looked down her nose at Freddie’s mousy little wife. ‘With two sugars. And don’t take all day about it as I haf an important appointment, don’t you know.’

  Aggie tilted her hat so the feathers bobbed back and forth, thankful that she’d learnt to speak proper at the Sanctuary. She looked at the nondescript gown hanging over the young woman’s flat chest. What a drudge.

  Freddie’s wife bit her lower lip and tucked a limp strand of hair behind her ear. ‘Mrs E,’ she called over her shoulder.

  The door behind her opened. Aggie’s jaw dropped when she saw the curvy young woman with a mass of silken blonde hair and clear blue eyes.

  ‘What is it?’ Kate rested her hands on her hips and eyed Aggie suspiciously. ‘Yes?’

  ‘I want a cup of coffee.’

  ‘You’ll not get one here,’ Kate replied quietly. ‘This is a respectable establishment and I’m not having the
likes of you make it otherwise.’

  Aggie’s cheeks flamed red hot. ‘The likes of me?’ she screeched, putting her hand on her bare chest. ‘How dare you? I’m . . . I’m just a young woman out for a stroll.’

  ‘Out on the hook, you mean.’ Kate’s mouth lifted in a half smile. ‘I don’t know you, but I know what you’re about. And let me tell you, I’m not having you touting for customers under my roof.’ She lifted the counter flap and came through. ‘There’s a coffee stall along by Hermitage Wharf if you want a drink.’

  She went over and opened the door.

  Aggie balled her hands into fists to stop herself from springing at Kate.

  If she were one of the girls in the Boy I’d . . .

  Blood pounded in Aggie ears and a dart of pain cut across her head. A black cloud started to swirl at the edge of her vision somewhere and she heard a few of the customers snigger. She stared to quiver with rage.

  Kate’s voice cut through her fury. ‘Are you leaving or do I have to call the police?’

  Aggie lifted her head and took a deep breath. She forced her legs to work and stiffly walked to the door. As she came level with Kate she halted, looked her up and down.

  ‘You might not know who I am but your husband Freddie does. Intimately.’

  Kate’s cool expression didn’t falter. ‘I’m sure he does, and many more like you. Now sling your hook.’

  Aggie gave her a hateful stare and then sauntered out of the shop. The door slammed behind her and several people looked her way as Aggie straightened her shoulders and strolled back down the High Street. Have a laugh today, all right, but like Lilly Bragg, you’ll be laughing on the other side of your pretty face, Kate Ellis, when I’ve done with you.

  Aggie shoved open the Blue Coat Boy’s door and pushed her way through the bar to where Freddie sat on his tatty throne.

  He looked up as she approached. ‘Hello, ducks,’ he said, with the stupid grin she was beginning to despise plastered across his face. ‘Where you been? Not spending my hard-earned money, I hope.’

  The men lolling around him laughed and Aggie’s fury boiled over.