by Dilly Court
Vinegar Lil whacked Ruby hard across the knuckles with the stick that she kept for poking slow workers. ‘Stop daydreaming and get on with your work, Capretti. I’ll not give you another warning.’
Bending her head over her machine, Ruby steered the thick material beneath the flying needle. One day, she thought, treadling furiously, one day I’ll prove that I’m as clever as any of them well-off, middle-class girls and I’ll make the London Hospital take me on as a student.
Vinegar Lil blew a whistle and everyone stopped. ‘Ten minutes for your dinner break and not a minute longer.’
There was a rush for the privy in the back yard and then almost complete silence while the women munched their slices of bread and scrape, dripping or jam, washed down with a cup of weak tea.
‘Hope your voice comes back soon, Rose,’ Winnie said, wiping her mouth on her sleeve. ‘It’s your sing-songs and jokes what keeps us going.’
‘Drives us nuts, you mean,’ Biddy said, with a deep, rumbling chuckle.
Dotty Dora jumped up on her chair, holding her skirts up above her knees and jigging up and down. ‘I can dance if you hums a tune, Rose.’
Looking around at the expectant faces, Ruby was struggling to think of an excuse when Vinegar Lil blew two long blasts on her whistle.
‘Get back to work.’
Wheezing and puffing after the exertion of hurrying in from the yard, Nan let herself down onto her seat. ‘Aw, come on, Lil. It’s Christmas Eve. Ain’t you going to let us off a bit early?’
Vinegar Lil stood, arms akimbo, glaring at Nan. ‘Oh yes, and you’d think yourselves hard done by if Mr Bronski was to dock your wages by half a day. Get back to work, all of you.’
‘He won’t be having boiled bullock’s head and cabbage for his Christmas dinner.’ Winnie slithered into her seat, winking at Ruby. ‘I’d like to see him feed six nippers on what he pays us.’
Ruby nodded sympathetically; it was hard to imagine child-like Winnie having given birth to one baby, let alone six.
Vinegar Lil brought her stick down on Winnie’s table with a thud, making them all jump. ‘Less chatter, more work. Mr Bronski will be here any minute, so get on with it.’
Mad Mabel began to sing in a deep gravelly voice that was as musical as a cinder scraping under a door, but the song had a rhythm to it that soon had the women working their treadles to its beat.
*
The afternoon seemed even longer than the morning, with a five-minute break at three-thirty for a cup of tea made by one of the youngest girls. The tea leaves, Ruby thought, wrinkling her nose, must have been used and reused time and time again, making a brew that looked and smelt like water straight from the Thames.
Mr Bronski put in an appearance at six o’clock, bringing in with him a swirl of pea-green fog and bone-chilling night air. Enveloped in a black cashmere coat with an astrakhan collar, Jacob Bronski looked well fed, prosperous and out of place in the dingy surroundings of his workshop. He went straight to Lil, dumping a leather pouch on the table in front of her. ‘Have we met our target for today?’
Lil shot a dark look at Ruby, shaking her head. ‘Not everyone, Mr Bronski. Best dock two days’ pay off Capretti instead of just one.’
‘If she don’t improve, sack her.’ Bronski glowered at Ruby. ‘I’m good to my workers, I pay a fair rate, and what do I get in return?’
‘I know what he should get,’ Biddy said, in a low voice.
The ripple of laughter that greeted this remark was cut short by a loud roar from Bronski. ‘I deduct an hour’s pay off each one of you bitches for that.’ He glared round the room as if daring anyone to comment. No one did. ‘You don’t deserve it, but come and get your money and think yourselves lucky to have a generous employer like me.’
Before anyone could move, a mighty thud that sounded like a booted foot kicking the outside door was followed by several more and the door burst open, hitting the wall with a splintering crash. Five men armed with cudgels, knives and broken bottles rushed into the workshop. The women screamed, leaping to their feet, only to be herded into a corner like cattle, all except Ruby, who made herself as small as possible in the deep shadow beneath her workbench.
‘Sit down and no one will be hurt,’ snarled the man who appeared to be the leader. He caught Bronski by the throat, bending him backwards over the table. ‘We come to collect, Rusky.’
Bronski’s sallow skin paled to green. ‘Please, I paid last week.’
‘Hear that, boys? The Rusky Jew-boy paid last week.’
Vinegar Lil had picked up the pouch and was sneaking out of the back door when one of the men spotted her, caught her by the bun at the back of her head and dragged her back into the room. Snatching the pouch from her hands, he tossed it to the gang leader.
‘Please,’ Bronski cried, falling to his knees. ‘That’s all I got to pay me workers. It’s Christmas Eve. You wouldn’t rob them poor women of their wages?’
‘Me heart’s breaking,’ snarled the leader, grabbing Bronski by the throat. ‘Now give us the rest or do we have to get rough?’
‘Please, I’m a poor man.’
‘You’ll be even poorer if we smashes up your machines.’
With cudgels raised above their heads, the men waited for the signal to destroy the machines with an eagerness that made Ruby’s blood run cold. They had got what they came for but now they obviously wanted to wreck things just for the pleasure that violence gave them. Vinegar Lil had crumpled to the ground sobbing, and the rest of the women and girls cowered in the corner; even Big Biddy was silent. All eyes were on the man who held Bronski by the throat. One squeeze of those big hands would snuff out Bronski’s life like an altar boy putting out the candles after mass. Crouching behind her sewing machine, Ruby held her breath, her eyes drawn to a man who stood back from the rest, as if unwilling to take part in this cruel game. He carried a stick but he was holding it limply at his side. His cap was pulled low over his brow and Ruby couldn’t see his face, but her heart gave an uncomfortable leap inside her chest; there was something disturbingly familiar about him. Before she could gather her thoughts it seemed that all hell broke loose. The ringleader smashed his fist into Bronski’s face, sending him crashing to the floor. The women screamed and the men began breaking up the chairs and tables, using their cudgels or picking up the furniture and smashing it into matchwood against the brick walls.
‘That’s enough.’ The leader held his hand up, halting the destruction. ‘We’ve let your machines alone, Rusky, for now. We’ll be back next week.’
‘I’m ruined,’ sobbed Bronski, grovelling on the floor. ‘I don’t got no more for you to take.’
‘Then better make some more, old man. If we don’t protect you then the Odessans and Bessarabians will move in. Now they’re real nasty buggers. Ain’t they, boys?’ Aiming a savage kick at Bronski’s ribs, the gang leader swaggered out of the workshop, followed by his men laughing and jeering at Bronski’s distress.
‘You bleeding bastards!’ roared Big Biddy, breaking free from the knot of women clinging to each other in the shadows. Picking up a chair leg, she brought it down with a crash on the head of the last man. He staggered and crumpled to the ground with Big Biddy throwing herself on top of him. ‘Call a copper,’ she screamed. ‘Don’t just stand there like a long drink of water, Lil. Run outside and find a copper.’
Lil ran out into the street with the others trailing after her, some sobbing, others cursing and swearing. Ruby went to Bronski who had staggered to his feet and was holding his hands to his face in a vain attempt to staunch the blood flowing freely from his nose. Snatching a scrap of cloth, Ruby guided him to the only stool that remained unbroken and, gently prising his fingers off his face, she held the rag to his nose. He gazed at her with unfocused eyes, dumbly shaking his head.
‘Just hold it there,’ Ruby said. ‘I think your nose is broke. Sit quiet for a bit.’ Hearing a screech from Biddy, Ruby turned to see her sitting on the fallen man and pinning him to t
he floor.
‘You bastards is all alike,’ Biddy roared, beating her fists on her captive’s chest. ‘You took the money from us what slaved away to get it. How am I to feed me kids and me old man what’s sick? Answer me that, you miserable bastard.’
Afraid that Biddy was going to kill the man, who had really taken no part in the violence, Ruby hurried over to Biddy, tugging at her arm in an attempt to drag her off him. ‘Get up off him, Biddy.’ Ruby had to shout in order to make her voice heard above the noise coming from the street. ‘You’ll kill him.’
Biddy looked up. ‘You got your voice back all of a sudden.’
‘Shock. It’s the shock!’ Ruby’s hand flew to her throat and she made a gruff coughing sound. ‘Don’t kill him or the coppers will be arresting you and then what’ll your nippers do?’
‘Hanging’s too good for the likes of him.’ Biddy got to her feet, but not before she had given him one last punch. ‘I never took you for the soft sort, Rose.’ She stamped out of the workshop, leaving the door swinging on its hinges.
‘Leave him,’ Bronski whined. ‘Fetch me a doctor.’
Ruby had almost forgotten him in her need to stop Biddy taking her revenge on the semiconscious man. ‘I will,’ she said, dropping down on her knees by the prostrate figure. ‘When I’ve seen to this one.’ Resting her hand on his chest, she could feel his ribcage rising and falling; at least Biddy hadn’t crushed the life of out him. With a shaking hand, Ruby lifted his cap from his face.
‘Joe!’
He opened his eyes and recognition flared. ‘Ruby!’
‘Joe, I can’t believe you’re mixed up with the gangs.’
‘It’s not what it looks like.’ Joe struggled to sit up. ‘Aw, Ruby, I can explain.’
Realising that Bronski was straining his ears to hear, Ruby lowered her voice to a whisper. ‘Keep your voice down. I’m supposed to be Rose.’
‘You can’t fool your own brother,’ Joe said, attempting a smile and wincing as his split lip began to bleed. ‘Help me up. I got to get out of here quick.’
‘What’s going on over there?’ demanded Bronski. ‘I need a doctor.’
Ruby helped Joe to his feet.
‘Who is that?’ Bronski called, squinting at them over the top of the bloodstained rag. ‘Is that one of the gang? Hold him there until the police come.’
‘I’m taking him outside, Mr Bronski,’ Ruby called over her shoulder, ‘to be picked up by the coppers.’
Outside the noise of shouting and screaming carried on unabated and, in the distance, Ruby could hear the shrill blasts of a police whistle. Joe leaned against the wall, his face ashen in the flickering gaslight.
‘I don’t understand all this,’ Ruby said, wiping the blood from his mouth with the corner of her shawl. ‘How did you get mixed up with them ruffians?’
‘It ain’t how it looks. I ain’t a criminal, Ruby, you got to believe me.’
The sound of police whistles was getting closer and the hysterical cries of the women echoed up and down the alleyway. Ghostly fingers of fog curled in through the open door.
‘I do believe you, but the police are coming; you’ve got to get away from here.’ Taking Joe by the shoulders, Ruby shook him. ‘Do you hear me, Joe? You’ve got to run for it.’
‘Don’t think bad of me, Ruby.’ Dazed and disorientated, Joe backed towards the oncoming sound of running feet and police whistles.
‘Not that way.’ Diving after him, Ruby pointed Joe in the right direction and he stumbled off, vanishing into the pea-souper.
‘You let him go.’ Bronski glared up at Ruby as she went back into the workshop. ‘You let one of the gang go free, you silly cow.’
Taking a deep breath, Ruby struggled to compose herself. She must keep calm; she must not let anyone suspect that she knew the identity of one of the gang. Whatever Joe had done, there had to be a reasonable explanation. She went over to Bronski and knelt down by his side. ‘The cops will get him, Mr Bronski. Let’s clean you up a bit before they arrive and then we’ll see about getting you to hospital.’
‘No!’ Bronski’s dark eyes stood out of his head like two full stops. ‘No hospital and you don’t tell the police nothing, not unless you want your pretty throat slit. You don’t mess around with the gangs. Get out of here now, Rosetta. Go home and don’t say nothing.’
With her shawl wrapped round her head and mouth to keep out the choking fog, Ruby hurried home as fast as she was able, feeling her way along walls and railings. It seemed to her that the London peculiar had silenced the whole city with a thick, stinking blanket. Battling her way through this silent, pea-green world, all she could think about was Joe. How could he have got himself mixed up with the gangs that terrorised the East End? Joe might have been a bit wild in his youth, but he was never violent, and he had a solid career ahead of him. Why would he throw all that away and break Mum’s heart into the bargain? It was bad enough that Rosetta had gone off to try her luck on the stage; Ruby had had to do some quick thinking to explain her sudden departure to their mother. In the end, she had told a half-truth and said that Rosetta, hating her work at Bronski’s, had gone to stay with Lottie in Raven Street and intended to seek respectable employment in a shop up West. Ma had been shocked and disappointed to think that Rose had gone off without telling her, but Ruby hated to think what her reaction would be if she learned of Rosetta’s real intentions.
Now there was this awful thing with Joe; hesitating outside the front door of number sixteen, Ruby’s hand trembled as she put the key in the lock. Mum and Granny Mole would want to know how it had gone at Bronski’s and she would have to explain why she had not brought home any money. She prayed that Joe had not run home; he had always been a poor liar and Mum could see through him like a sheet of glass. It would be bad enough seeing the expression on Poppa’s face when she had to tell them that she had worked twelve hours for nothing, without having to admit that Joe had done such a dreadful wrong. Bracing her shoulders, Ruby went inside and was hit by a gust of warm air and the unmistakeable aroma of hot meat pie.
‘Shut the door,’ Granny Mole called out from her chair by a roaring fire. ‘You’re letting the cold air in.’
‘Sit down, love,’ Sarah said, bustling in from the scullery, placing a steaming pie on the table with a triumphant smile. ‘We’ve waited for you special, though Granny wanted hers as soon as I brung it in from the pie shop, but I said we’d not cut into it until you come home.’
Ruby looked at Poppa, who sat in his chair, wrapped in a blanket. He managed a smile but he looked pale and unwell. Ruby went to him, kneeling down and taking his cold hand in hers. ‘How are you, Poppa?’
‘Not so good, cara. Not so good today.’
‘Well if you won’t eat you’ll never get better,’ Sarah said, cutting into the pie and putting a small slice on a plate. ‘I want to see this plate clean, Aldo. Eat it while it’s hot.’
Aldo shook his head. ‘Maybe later.’
Frowning, Sarah wafted the plate under his nose. ‘It’s good. Try a bit.’
Aldo clutched his stomach, beads of sweat standing out on his brow.
‘Don’t, Mum,’ Ruby said, pushing the plate away. ‘Can’t you see that Poppa’s sick? He should be in the hospital.’
‘Don’t talk daft. We ain’t got that kind of money. I couldn’t have paid for the doctor to visit if Billy Noakes hadn’t turned up earlier with the money for the dolls.’
‘Money for the dolls? But he said …’ Ruby stopped short, biting her lip.
‘He said that the wholesalers was begging for them,’ Sarah said with a pleased smile, ‘and, credit where credit’s due, Billy come right round with the money. He said the wholesalers was always pleased to get their hands on a Capretti doll.’
‘That’s what he said, Ruby.’ Aldo smiled proudly, patting Ruby’s hand. ‘They love Capretti dolls. Maybe I misjudged Billy. He ain’t such a bad bloke at heart.’
‘I’ll eat his pie if he don’t want it, Sal,’ Gra
nny Mole said, eyeing the plate. ‘Can’t waste good grub.’
Sarah waved the plate under Aldo’s nose. ‘Just a mouthful, to please me.’
‘I’m sorry, Sal.’ Aldo seemed to shrink into the blanket, drawing his head in like a tired old tortoise.
‘Oh, well! Suit yourself, you stubborn old bugger,’ Sarah said, scraping the piece of pie onto Granny’s plate. ‘Leave him be. He’ll eat when he’s a mind to.’
Quick to recognise the note of anxiety in her mother’s voice, Ruby got to her feet, dropping a kiss on her father’s forehead. ‘I’ll make you some bread and milk later, Poppa.’
Sarah lowered herself onto her chair at the table. ‘Come and get your tea while it’s still hot, Ruby.’
‘What did the doctor say, Mum?’ Ruby asked in a low voice as she took her seat.
‘He said he reckoned that your dad’s poisoned hisself with all that lead what he mixes with the wax,’ Sarah whispered. ‘The doctor said he’d seen it often enough with painters and the like.’
Ruby stared at the food, her appetite gone. ‘Poisoned?’
Sarah shot an anxious glance at Aldo. ‘Shhhh! Don’t say nothing to your pa. He’s got to be kept quiet. The doctor told me to give him a dose of laudanum if the pain got too much for him.’
‘But there must be something else that he could do for him?’
‘The doctor said that nature must take its course. Anyway, Ruby, your dad’s a tough old bugger; after a few days’ rest I’m sure he’ll be right as rain. Now eat your tea or you’ll be the next one took sick.’