Bow Belles

by Bow Belles (retail) (epub)

  After what seemed an eternity, but was barely twenty minutes, the crowd fell into a sullen silence. Those who hadn’t been lucky enough to obtain a ticket began the long walk back to the gates, their shoulders slumped in despair as they thought of their families waiting at home and the children who would go to bed with empty bellies that night.

  Sick and trembling, Kate stumbled from the safety of the stairway. Keeping to the side of the tall buildings, she inched her way towards the entrance, her eyes downcast, unable to look at the stark despair and misery of the men shuffling by. Once outside the gates, she waited until the crowd had dispersed. Some of the men were already heading for St Katharine’s Dock in the hope they would fare better there. Others, weary and disheartened, made for home, while the rest headed for the nearest pub to spend their last few coppers.

  While her every instinct screamed to get away from this awful place, Kate headed towards the sprawling parade of shops that catered for the dockers and their families. She would probably be late for work, but as it was extremely unlikely she would ever make this journey again, she might as well make the most of the opportunity while she was here.

  Fighting down a wave of nausea and ignoring the trembling of her legs, she spent the next fifteen minutes showing the photo to the many shopkeepers, smiling tiredly as she heard the familiar words of ‘Gawd, she looks just like yer, love’, followed by ‘Nah, sorry, ain’t seen ’er down these parts. ’Ave yer tried the police station?’ Her body aching, her eyes stinging with tears of disappointment, she left a greengrocer’s, two red apples and an orange wrapped in brown paper the only things to show for her morning’s efforts.

  As she approached the stop to wait for the next tram, three men came walking towards her, their eyes lighting up at the sight of the blonde girl so obviously out of place in these surroundings. Fighting down a surge of panic, Kate tried to pass, but the men, looking for a diversion of any kind, weren’t going to let the chance of a bit of sport pass so easily.

  ‘You’re out an’ abaht early, sweet’eart! Lookin’ fer a day’s work, are yer?’

  Keeping her head high, Kate said firmly, ‘Please let me pass. I’ve come down here to look for somebody.’

  ‘Well now, she’s lookin’ fer somebody!’ One of the men jerked his head at his companions, his grinning lips drawn back over broken, discoloured teeth. ‘Well now, girlie, yer can ’ave my body any time yer likes.’

  Knowing it would be fatal to antagonise the men, Kate tried reason. Pulling the small picture from her pocket, she held it out for the men to see. ‘I’m looking for my mother. Have any of you gentlemen seen her?’

  The picture was snatched roughly from her hand. ‘Whoo… She’s a bit of all right, ain’t she, mates!’ The men crowded round, drawing Kate into a tight circle. ‘Can’t say as we ’ave, darlin’, but I’ll tell yer what, I’ll keep this an’ show it around fer yer. I’ll even put it under me pillow at night. It’ll give me somefink to dream abaht.’

  ‘No… No, give it back!’ Kate cried in alarm as she saw her precious photo being thrust into the grimy pocket of the man’s tattered jacket. ‘It’s the only one I have. Give it back to me or I’ll call a constable!’

  This threat sent the men into gales of laughter, and they moved in closer to the now thoroughly frightened young woman. When a hand closed around her waist, Kate jerked back violently only to be pulled closer to the foul-smelling body.

  ‘Tell yer what…’ An overpowering fetid breath wafted over her face, causing her stomach to rise in protest. ‘Let’s go somewhere an’ talk abaht it? Maybe if you’re nice ter me, I’ll let yer ’ave it back!’

  The events of the past hour, coupled with acute frustration, made Kate furious. It was too much; just too bloody much! She’d taken all she was going to take for one day. Struggling wildly, she bunched her small fist and swung it forcefully at the man’s face, making him stagger back in surprise.

  ‘You bitch…’ The man felt his nose, his eyes widening in shock as he saw the blood. Kate tried to run, then gasped in pain as she was pulled back roughly by the hair.

  ‘You bitch!’ the man said again, his snarling face inches from her own. ‘Nobody does that ter Terry Dickson an’ gets away wiv it!’

  ‘’Ere, come on, Terry, let ’er go.’ One of the other men was looking around nervously as people began to come out of the shops and houses to see what was going on. ‘Come on… Let ’er go. There’s people abaht, yer can’t do nuffink…’

  The man called Terry pushed his friend away, his eyes never leaving Kate’s face. ‘Like I said, nobody treats me like that an’ gets away wiv it,’ he hissed, his face twisting with rage at the lack of fear in the large green eyes staring back at him. With one hand still gripping Kate’s hair, he took hold of her arm and wrenched it up behind her back, smiling as an involuntary gasp of pain was torn from her lips.

  The burning pain in her scalp and arm was adding to her already weakened state, and, alarmed that she might faint, Kate fought to retain her senses, but the pain became unbearable. Just as she thought she could endure no more, she heard loud shouts and a dog barking, then she was free from her tormentor. Almost sobbing with relief, she stumbled blindly along the cobbled pavement, and when an arm came round her shoulders she stiffened, then relaxed as she realised it was a woman who was comforting her. Gratefully she laid her head against a large bosom, and felt soft but strong arms pull her close.

  ‘That’s it, me darlin’, you rest up now, you poor wee thing. Our John’ll teach those heathens a lesson, don’t you be worrying now!’

  Kate twisted slowly in the stranger’s arms, aware of the sound of the mad, frantic barking of a dog. A man dressed in casual but clean clothing was laying about the three men, his big fists striking out at her assailants while a large brown and white dog snapped frantically around the man’s ankles.

  Still dazed, she blinked rapidly, trying to clear her head, then fought back the urge to cheer as one of the men went flying to the ground, followed swiftly by his companion. The man who had accosted Kate was backing away, his aggression gone in the face of such a formidable adversary.

  ‘Let him go, John! Sure an’ he’ll not be causing any more trouble, I’ll be bound,’ the woman called out to the angry man who was about to land another blow.

  Hearing her voice, he relaxed his arm, then with a grunt of contempt he threw the man to one side.

  ‘Oh, no, don’t let him get away!’ Kate called out. ‘He’s got my mum’s photograph in his pocket. Please get it for me… Please!’

  ‘I’m sorry, John, we didn’t mean any ’arm. ’Ere, take it,’ the man called Terry babbled, holding the photo out in his grimy hand. ‘I wasn’t gonna keep the bleeding fing, we was only ’aving a bitta fun!’ Then he was off and running, leaving his companions still sprawled on the ground. A hearty cheer went up from the small crowd as the bully took to his heels.

  When the dog made to give chase, his owner said sharply, ‘Stay, Spud. Good boy,’ Then, turning to the shaking girl, he said kindly, ‘Are you all right, love?’

  Kate stared into a pair of bright blue eyes set back above a nose sprinkled with freckles in a strong, rugged face. Before he replaced the flat cap that had fallen to the ground in the brief tussle, she glimpsed short, sandy red hair brushed back from a high forehead.

  ‘Of course she’s not all right!’ the woman beside her said sharply. ‘She’s had a fair fright, so she has. Now then, me love, you just come along of us, an’ I’ll fix you a nice strong cup of tea to steady your nerves.’

  ‘Oh, no, I can’t,’ Kate began to protest. ‘I mean, I’m very grateful, but I have to get to work, and…’

  But the woman was already guiding her along the pavement, the black shawl pulled tightly across her ample breasts.

  ‘You’d best do as she says!’ The stranger smiled sideways at Kate. ‘Me gran never takes no for an answer. But don’t worry, as soon as her back’s turned, I’ll rescue you from her clutches.’

 
‘Away with you, you cheeky divil, else I’ll be fetching a sharp clout round the side of your head!’

  The man grinned at the elderly woman, then winked at Kate and said, ‘Me name’s John Kelly. Pleased to meet you.’

  ‘And my name’s Kate.’ Kate returned his smile. ‘I don’t think I’ll need rescuing, but if I do, it’ll be the second time you’ve come to my aid today. I’m very grateful, John Kelly.’

  When he again winked and took her other arm, all the while chaffing his gran, she in turn gave back as good as she got. The shopkeepers and people in the street who had witnessed the drama called the man by name and slapped him warmly on the back, and Kate felt a rush of warmth flood through her aching body.

  Without knowing how, she instinctively knew she had found two much-needed friends.

  Chapter Six

  On the short walk to the Kellys’ home, Kate explained her reasons for coming down to the docks. She had only meant to show them the photo and ask if they had seen the woman, but the events of the early morning had loosened her normally reticent tongue, and she found herself recounting the horrors she had witnessed and the final ordeal at the hands of the three men: she subconsciously omitted any reference to Alex. So wrapped up in her story was she that she failed to see the quizzical looks exchanged over her head.

  When she was pulled to a stop outside a somewhat shabby end of terrace house at the back of the parade of shops, she experienced a momentary qualm of fear. But how deceptive appearances can be, for behind the depressing, peeling, green door lay a wealth of comfort and warmth that brought a gladness to Kate’s tired mind and body.

  Her first impression as she stepped cautiously into the house was of a large and airy room, with a roaring fire in a wrought-iron grate. Beside it stood a long gleaming black-leaded range on which a large pot was simmering gently. On either side of the fire were two gaily patterned armchairs, one of which seemed twice as large as its companion. The middle of the room was dominated by an impressive oblong table covered with an embroidered white lace tablecloth and a silver candle-holder with three thick wax candles as the centrepiece. To the right of the table stood a polished mahogany dresser, with beautiful china cups, plates and dishes visible behind its clear bevilled glass panels. Kate looked in wonder around the inviting room, taking in the array of pots and pans of all sizes hanging from iron hooks over the range. The wall behind it was panelled in wood, but the others were covered in flock wallpaper, mainly white, with a scattering of tiny green leaves. Woven mats intermingled with soft rugs lay on the floor. Thick coloured curtains hung at either side of the two bay windows, themselves covered by dark green shutters the same colour as the front door, and against the wall next to the door stood a piano, the top of which was adorned with small gilt-framed photographs.

  ‘Surprised, are you?’

  Kate spun round guiltily, her face flushed with embarrassment. ‘Oh no, Mrs Kelly, of course not!’ she protested lamely, then smiled sheepishly. ‘Well, yes, I am. From the outside you’d never guess at…’ She trailed off, the blush deepening as she realised the rudeness of her words.

  ‘Aye, well, you’d best sit yourself down while I fetch you a strong mug of tea. Though, by the looks of you, you could do with a drop of the hard stuff to put a bit of colour into those cheeks… Mind, you don’t seem as pale now as when you first came in.’

  John Kelly stood by the door, his arms folded across a flat stomach, blue eyes twinkling merrily as he watched his gran tease the girl. He gave a loud laugh. ‘You’re a wicked woman, Bridie Kelly, tormenting the girl! You’ll frighten her off if you carry on like this.’ Turning to Kate, he jerked his head towards the stoutly built white-haired woman who was standing by the range, her attention now fixed on the contents of the bubbling pot. ‘Take no notice of me gran, love, she doesn’t mean any harm. It’s her age, you know. Not that anyone knows how old she is, ’cos, according to her’ – he jerked his thumb towards the elderly woman – ‘she’s been fifty for the last twenty years! Seeing as me dad would have been fifty-two this year, that one there must have given birth to him at the age of six!’ Leaning his head closer to Kate’s amused face, he whispered loudly, ‘Me grandad and me are thinking of writing to the Pope, to tell his Holiness there’s been another miracle, though…’ He ducked sharply as a wet cloth came flying through the air, but he wasn’t quick enough. The heavy material caught him squarely on the side of the head with a loud thwack.

  Not sure whether to laugh or not, Kate peeped from beneath lowered lashes to gauge the woman’s temper, her breath leaving her body in a silent sigh of relief at the sight of the wrinkled face creased even further by a wide grin.

  ‘Get away with you, you cheeky divil! You may be a big man out in the streets, John Kelly, but in my house you’re still just a bit of a lad who’s not too old to be given a clout. Now then, you’d best get yourself and them pies to the shop; your grandad’ll be wondering where you are. You can tell him I’ll be along later.’

  As if needing to explain further, the woman turned to Kate. ‘That’s where we were off to when we came across you. Me husband has a shop down St George’s Street. We sell hot soup, baked potatoes and pies, mostly to the likes of those poor divils who come down here every day looking to be taken on at the docks. An’ as St George’s Street is in between here an’ St Katharine’s, where most of those who were here this morning will be heading for to try their luck, we get a steady stream of customers, the poor creatures.’ Her face sombre now, Bridie looked first at her grandson, then back at Kate. ‘’Tis a cruel world, an’ no mistake. And there’s not a night goes by when I don’t get down on me knees and thank the Almighty for our good fortune. Not that we take advantage of those less fortunate,’ she added quickly, shaking her head as if to emphasise the point.

  ‘Ah, no. We have a system, me husband an’ me. We charge whatever we think the men can afford. For instance, if some poor soul who’s really down on his luck comes in, we give him a hot potato and a bowl of soup on the house. Those who have a few bob in their pockets we charge a penny a potato and the same for the soup.’

  ‘But how do you know if somebody has money?’ Kate asked, surprised to find she was genuinely interested.

  Bridie smiled. ‘When you’ve lived as long as I have… Oh, aye, you can laugh, lad!’ She cast a warning look at her grandson. ‘Well, you just know about people. Mind, I’m not saying I’ve never made a mistake, but I’m usually right. That’s why we’ve never bothered to make the front of the place look nice, and why we have them shutters at the windows. Like I said before, most folk around here are decent enough, but I’ve found it’s wiser not to let too many people know what you’ve got. Anyways, sit yourself down before you fall down… An’ you can stop lolling round an’ get yourself off to the shop with them pies, else your grandad’ll think you’ve got lost.’ This last remark was directed at the grinning man.

  With an easy grace he sauntered over to her and, putting an affectionate arm around her plump shoulders, said jocularly, ‘Ah, Gran, you wouldn’t send me out without so much as a mug of tea inside me, would you?’

  John winked at Kate, who, having chosen the larger of the armchairs, was having some difficulty in keeping her feet on the floor. She was further hampered by the large over-friendly dog who was now resting his head in her lap, his large brown eyes gazing trustingly up at her.

  Pushing her grandson roughly to one side, Bridie, a steaming mug in both hands, handed one to Kate. Then, with much huffing and wriggling about, she settled herself into the armchair opposite and, leaning forward, tapped Kate’s knee. ‘Pay him no mind, lass. He’s had four rashers of bacon, two sausages, two eggs and a bowl of me special porridge. Lord knows where he puts it all, ’cos there’s not a spare ounce of fat on him. Now then, you get that down you, an’ once that one’s gone, we can have a natter. It’s not often I get any female company…’

  Bridie Kelly talked on, her manner casual and friendly while her shrewd eyes examined the girl. Despite
Kate’s outward semblance of normality, Bridie knew from experience that here was somebody who was at the end of her tether. The banter she had engaged in with her grandson was merely a ploy to keep the girl’s mind off her troubles, but if she wanted to confide in someone, well then she, Bridie Kelly, was always ready to listen; whatever she heard would go no further than these four walls.

  Kate looked down in dismay at the inky tea, wondering if her hosts would think her rude if she were to ask for a drop more milk, then decided against it. With her free hand absently stroking the soft fur of the captivated dog, she raised the mug to her lips and warily took a sip, then nearly dropped the mug as John’s raucous laugh filled the room.

  ‘It’s like drinking mud, isn’t it? I’ve told her time and time again not to make it so strong, but she never listens. I forgot to take the spoon out one day, and when I went to take a swig the blooming thing was standing up like a flag-post. Nearly poked me eye out, it did! Mind you, you’re lucky it’s only the tea you’ve been offered. If she starts to lift up the porridge, you’d be wise to make a bolt for the door.’ His eyes twinkling with merriment, John ignored the ferocious look his grandmother was levelling at him and leaned closer to Kate. ‘She leaves it simmering, morning, noon and night. That pot’s never off the stove. By the end of the day, it’s so thick, you’d need a pick and shovel to get it out of the pot!’

  Kate shifted awkwardly in the chair, not sure if she should laugh or not.

  Seeing the look of discomfort on the lovely face, he relented and in a softer voice said, ‘Take no notice of me, love. As me granny will tell you, I like the sound of me own voice. Now, about your tea. Would you like a bit more milk in it?’