by Valerie Wood
A group of soldiers came along and she called to them. ‘Come on, lads, what do you fancy?’
‘Well, I wouldn’t mind a kiss,’ one of them grinned. ‘How much for a kiss?’
‘More’n you can afford,’ she teased.
‘Go on,’ he said, egged on by his companions. ‘How much?’
‘A tanner then,’ she said and held her cheek towards him. ‘Let’s see your money first.’
He fished in his trouser pocket and brought out a shilling. ‘Two kisses please,’ he said, rather sheepish now as his friends hooted.
She allowed him to kiss her on each cheek and then she smiled and kissed him on the mouth. He was a good-looking fellow, she thought, and it was no hardship.
He pretended to swoon and then put his hand in his pocket again and brought out sixpence. ‘Now I’ll have a bacon sandwich,’ he said huskily. ‘You’ve given me an appetite.’
‘But for what!’ one of his fellows exclaimed, then he too put his hand in his pocket for a sixpence.
‘Bacon sandwich?’ she enquired saucily.
‘A kiss,’ he said, and put out his arms.
She was glad that the brazier was between them, for this soldier had a gleam in his eye. She leaned her cheek towards him, taking his sixpence as she did so. ‘That’s it,’ she said. ‘I’m right out of kisses now. Onny hot pies and bacon left.’
They all bought something, all anxious to persuade her to give them the pleasure of her company, until she finally said, ‘That’s it, lads. Nowt left now. All ’rest is for our supper.’
‘Who’s yon feller?’ one of them asked. ‘Is he with you?’
She nodded. ‘Yeh. My brother. We’re mekking our way to London. Going to seek our fortune.’
One of the soldiers leaned towards her and whispered, ‘You’d make it quicker without him, darling.’ He winked. ‘Could make a fortune all of your own.’
She smiled sweetly. ‘But all my other brothers would come after me,’ she said. ‘And they’re all huge.’ She lifted her hands on either side of her shoulders to indicate their size. ‘I just couldn’t risk it.’ She blew them all a kiss and turned away.
The stallholder gave Mikey sixpence for helping him, and when Bridget handed over the money for the sales she had made he was well pleased. ‘Here,’ he said, giving her a copper. ‘And finish what’s left of the food. It won’t keep, and I only cook fresh.’
Bridget piled bacon into the bread cakes and they ate the last few sausages with their fingers, then Mikey asked the trader if he knew where they could get a cheap bed for the night.
‘Try Granny Hargreaves,’ he said. ‘She’ll put you up if she has a spare bed.’
He told them where to find the landlady and, with all of his belongings packed in a handcart, he trundled away, calling out his thanks. They grinned at each other, feeling satisfied with the food and with earning it, and set off to find the lodgings.
The terraced cottage was down a narrow lane. A low light was burning in the window and the door was slightly ajar.
Bridget knocked. ‘Is anybody there?’ she called through the gap. ‘Is this Granny Hargreaves’s house?’
‘Who is it?’ an old querulous voice wavered. ‘Are you selling summat?’
‘No,’ Bridget answered. ‘One of ’market traders said you might have lodgings, just for tonight.’
‘Come in. Come in,’ the woman called. ‘I can’t get up, me back’s gone.’
They walked into the dim room. The lamp in the window was the only light, as the fire had burned low. An old woman was sitting by it with a shawl round her shoulders.
‘Can you turn the lamp up a bit?’ she said. ‘Not too much,’ she added sharply as Mikey turned the wheel. ‘I’m not made o’ brass. Now then.’ She peered at them. ‘Who are you? Do I know you?’
‘You don’t know us, but we were recommended to come to you,’ Bridget said. ‘We need beds for tonight.’
‘I’ve one spare, but I can’t get up to make it. You’ll have to get ’blanket out of the box yourself.’
‘Where will you sleep, Mrs Hargreaves?’ Mikey ventured. ‘Can’t you get into bed?’
‘No, I can’t. Not unless somebody helps me. I’m stuck in this chair till morning when me daughter comes.’
‘We’ll help you,’ Bridget put on her sweetest voice. ‘Won’t we, Mikey?’
‘Mikey?’ Mrs Hargreaves said sharply. ‘Is that a young fellow? I’ll not have a young fellow helping me into bed!’
‘I can help you out of ’chair though, can’t I?’ Mikey said. ‘And I’ll mend ’fire if you’ll tell me where ’coal or wood is.’
‘Ah. Well, that’s how me back went, you see,’ she said. ‘I was shovelling a bucket o’ coal and I felt it go. I got inside to me chair but then couldn’t get up. I’m dying for ’privy ’n’ all.’
Bridget pulled a face behind Mrs Hargreaves’s back. This wasn’t what she’d expected, but at least they were inside with a promise of at least one bed for the night.
Together they helped the old lady out of the chair and got her to the back door. ‘I’ll not mek it to the bottom of the garden,’ she wailed. ‘You’ll have to fetch me a pail.’
Mikey turned away with a grin as Bridget ran off to fetch a pail as instructed. He picked up the poker and riddled the fire, bringing the coals to life, and thought that to sleep on the rug in front of it would be luxury. When Bridget and Granny Hargreaves came back into the room, he said, ‘I’ll fetch some coal and wood in, shall I? You’ll want to keep ’fire in overnight?’
‘Aye, I will.’ The old lady gave a relieved sigh. ‘I charge, you know, for a bed. You can’t stop for nowt.’
‘We realize that,’ Bridget said softly. ‘But we don’t have much money. Onny what we earned from ’stallholder.’
‘Was it the hot pie man?’ she asked. ‘He sometimes sends folk to me.’
‘Yes,’ Mikey said. ‘He said you were ’best and wouldn’t rob us.’
‘Did he?’ The old woman wrinkled her nose. ‘Aye, well, I do a good turn now and again, if I’m treated right.’
‘I’ll help you into bed, if you like, Mrs Hargreaves,’ Bridget said. ‘Can me brother sleep on ’floor?’
‘Your brother, is it?’ the old woman said. ‘Well, he can share your bed if you’ve a mind.’
‘No,’ Mikey said swiftly. ‘We’re too old for that. Not like when we were bairns.’
‘Where you from?’ she asked. ‘You’re not local.’
‘We’re from Hull,’ Bridget answered. ‘But we’re on our way to London.’
‘Ah, you young folk,’ Mrs Hargreaves grunted. ‘You all think London’s paved wi’ gold. But it’s not, you know. You’ll not find owt different from what you’ve had at home. But there you are, you’ll not be told. Help me into bed,’ she said to Bridget. ‘And then you can take ’truckle bed. You’ll find a blanket each. But there’s no food, mind. I onny do bed, not board. But you can make a hot drink if you like. And I’ll have one as well.’
They assured her they didn’t need food, and after she was tucked in to her cot in an alcove behind a curtain Bridget filled the kettle from the outside pump and swung it over the fire whilst Mikey loaded two coal scuttles and brought in a pile of wood, which he placed in the hearth.
‘What luxury!’ He stretched his arms above his head and then sat cross-legged on the floor. ‘I’ll sleep like a log tonight.’
Bridget was searching in a cupboard. ‘There’s some cocoa,’ she said. ‘Shall I mek that instead of tea?’
Mikey agreed and she soon had three steaming cups of cocoa ready. She took one to Granny Hargreaves, but came straight back from behind the curtain, whispering, ‘She’s asleep already. We’ll have to share this.’
‘No hardship,’ Mikey said quietly, with frothy cocoa over his mouth. ‘She’s very trusting, isn’t she? We’re complete strangers and yet she’s let us into her house.’
Bridget glanced round. ‘She’s not got much to steal, has she?
’
‘Mebbe not,’ Mikey said. ‘But even so, she’s willing to share it.’
‘Yes,’ Bridget said thoughtfully. ‘Not like Simon, who’s keeping whatever he’s got to himself.’
They were both instantly asleep, Bridget on the truckle and Mikey on the rug, and neither woke until someone opened the front door.
‘Who are you?’ A woman stood over them. ‘Where’s my ma?’
Mikey sat up, rubbing his eyes. ‘Lodgers,’ he mumbled. ‘Granny Hargreaves is in bed.’
Bridget murmured something and turned over, falling asleep again.
‘I’m in here,’ Mrs Hargreaves called out. ‘Where do you think I am?’
‘I’ve telled you before, Ma,’ the woman said, opening the bed curtain. ‘You shouldn’t let strangers into the house. You’ll be robbed and murdered in your bed.’
‘Course I won’t,’ the old woman spluttered. ‘They were recommended anyway. Hot pie man sent ’em.’
‘Oh, well that’s all right then,’ her daughter said sarcastically. ‘And I expect they’ve eaten all your bread and drunk your tea.’
Bridget sat up and gazed sleepily at the woman. ‘No,’ she said huskily. ‘We had a drink o’ cocoa, that’s all, and I washed ’cups up,’ she added. ‘We onny needed a bed for ’night. We’re on our way to London.’
‘Are you?’ she answered sharply. ‘Well, if you see my lad, send him home, will you?’
Bridget nodded. ‘What’s his name?’
The woman gave a grim laugh. ‘It’s a big place is London. You’re hardly likely to meet him.’
‘We might,’ Bridget said. ‘What’s his name?’
‘Tony. Anthony Manners,’ she said. ‘Tell him I need him back here sharpish!’
They paid Granny Hargreaves sixpence, which was all she wanted. She said they had saved her life by getting her to bed and because Mikey had filled two coal hods for her. ‘Call again,’ she said, ‘and welcome.’
They wandered round the town, killing time to give Simon chance to catch them up, but by eight o’clock he hadn’t come so they decided to move on.
‘Knowing him he’ll be hitching a lift wi’ a waggoner,’ Mikey said. ‘He’ll probably overtake us.’
‘Yeh, and he’ll have had a good breakfast as well, I bet,’ Bridget said. ‘I’m hungry again.’
‘Let’s keep walking till dinner time,’ Mikey said. ‘And if we eat then it’ll mebbe last us ’rest of day.’
But they had gone no more than a mile when they heard someone calling their names. ‘Mikey! Bridget! Wait!’
They turned round and saw Simon waving. ‘Wait,’ he shouted. ‘Please wait.’
‘Shall we?’ Bridget teased. ‘Or shall we let him run to catch up?’
‘He’s running anyway,’ Mikey said. ‘We’d best wait on him.’
Simon was breathless and red-faced by the time he reached them. ‘Oh!’ he gasped. ‘I thought I’d lost you. Phew! Where did you go? I looked all over for you. Why didn’t you wait?’
‘What happened to your face?’ Mikey ignored his questioning. ‘Have you been in a fight?’
‘Yes.’ Simon breathed heavily. ‘Last night. I – er – well, I fancied a proper bed and as I had a bit of money left’ – he didn’t look at either of them as he spoke – ‘I thought I’d try for lodgings.’
‘Oh, really?’ Bridget put her hands on her hips. ‘Didn’t bother about us, then! Didn’t I say, Mikey, didn’t I say that he’d gone looking for somewhere to stop ’night?’
Mikey nodded. ‘You did say that, yes. So where did you go?’
‘I went to a hostelry and asked if they’d a room.’ Simon was shamefaced. ‘But they were full up and the landlord suggested I went somewhere else. There were two or three fellows in there, older than me, who must have heard him. They followed me up the street, pushed me into an alleyway and told me to hand over my money. Well, I wasn’t going to do that without a fight, but they gave me a beating and made me hand it over.’ He put his hand over his mouth and muttered thickly, ‘It was just like being at school again.’ He blinked rapidly but Mikey and Bridget saw the tears. ‘And then they started kicking me, saying I was a rich bastard, but then this apparition dressed in black suddenly appeared and frightened them to death. He set about them with a great wooden stick and they scarpered. I spent the night in a doorway and as soon as it was light I set off to find you. I thought you must have had a lift,’ he added, ‘and I’d have to travel on my own.’
‘So who was it who rescued you?’ Bridget asked curiously.
‘He didn’t say his name, but when I said I was with some friends and we were going to London, he said that he was heading that way and would catch up with us.’
‘He’ll have a job,’ Bridget said scornfully. ‘We’re miles ahead.’
‘He said he was getting a lift,’ Simon said. ‘Something about somebody owing him a favour.’
‘Come on then,’ Mikey said, ‘let’s get moving. We can’t stand round here all day.’
Simon groaned, saying that he ached all over, but Mikey and Bridget ignored his complaints. Sleeping in doorways wasn’t comfortable, they both knew that. Last night was the best night’s sleep they had had since setting off on this journey.
The traffic on the road was heavy and they managed lifts several times in waggons and carriers’ carts. It was close on midday when they were dropped off from a waggon which was turning in another direction. They trudged on, and hearing the sound of fast-moving hooves behind them looked round hopefully. But it was a four-wheeled clarence coming towards them and they knew that it wouldn’t stop to pick up wayfarers.
They continued on, agreeing that they’d stop as soon as they came to a cottage or village to beg a sup of water or maybe buy a loaf with the money they had left, but they turned round again when they heard the hooves bearing down on them.
‘Idiot,’ Mikey muttered when he saw the driver standing up in his seat with his black coat billowing behind him and his whip raised, lashing the horses on. ‘He’s in a mighty hurry.’
Then the carriage slowed as it reached them. It was very shabby though once it had been smart; the red varnish was peeling, and the brassware was in need of polishing.
‘Hey up, lads and lassie,’ the driver called out. ‘Do you want a lift?’
‘Yes, please.’ Simon rushed forward. ‘I’m glad you caught us up.’
‘Thank you,’ Bridget said, following quickly.
Mikey held back. He took a breath. He would have known that mean face, the long nose and wild black hair, anywhere. This was a man he had hoped never to see again. Tully.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Mikey would have been the first to admit that without Tully they might not have got to London. Might even have died on the journey, for the weather had become cold and wet and the chances of work would have been minimal. Besides, the only thing he could offer to do for anyone was chop wood or bring water in from the pump. I’m useless, he had thought. No skill at anything.
Tully had grinned down at them from his perch, but hadn’t at first recognized Mikey. They’d climbed aboard the rocking old carriage and had been hurled from one side to the other as Tully continued his nightmarish driving. Night was falling as they reached the outskirts of a town and Simon, hanging on to a leather window strap, peered out and said, ‘Coventry. I wonder why he’s come this way.’
‘Coventry?’ Bridget looked and felt sick and had been lying across one side of the carriage, leaving the two boys to sit at the other. ‘Of course, you’ve been here before, haven’t you?’
He turned to glance at her. ‘No. Never,’ he said, before turning back to the window.
She sat up and leaned on one elbow. ‘You told us you had,’ she said thickly. ‘You said you’d been to Coventry.’
Simon snorted. ‘I didn’t mean I’d actually been here! It’s a saying. Sent to Coventry. It means that nobody is allowed to talk to you.’
‘Why?’ she asked scornfully. ‘That’s
stupid!’
He shrugged. ‘I don’t know. Something to do with the Civil War, I think. Don’t ask me. I think that soldiers were sent to Coventry and no one would speak to them.’
Bridget lost interest and put her head down again. ‘I wish we could stop,’ she said wearily. ‘I’d rather be walking.’
Mikey had been quiet on the journey. How was it that Tully was out of prison so soon? How had he been able to beg, borrow or steal a carriage? And if he had stolen it were the three of them implicated? It was too depressing to think about as he remembered his time in prison. He put his head back against the worn upholstery, closed his eyes and didn’t open them again until he heard Simon and Bridget squabbling over Coventry.
The carriage slowed as it travelled through the town, and once or twice Tully stopped to ask directions. Finally he drew to a halt outside an inn with a swinging sign proclaiming it was the Town Wall Tavern.
‘Come on,’ he called to them, opening the carriage door. ‘We’ll stop here. Clear off and make yourselves scarce for an hour. I’ve some business to attend to.’
Simon got out of the carriage first, then Tully made a great show of helping Bridget down, but as Mikey stepped down Tully grabbed his arm. ‘Hold on, feller-me-lad. Where’ve I seen you afore?’
Mikey swallowed hard. Would Tully remember if he didn’t tell him? But he did remember. He suddenly shouted, ‘Hah!’ and pointed a bony finger. ‘Course! Kingston Street. Quinn! What ’you doing so far from home? What’s your ma going to say about that? Wise woman, your ma, if I recall.’
‘She died,’ Mikey told him miserably. ‘I never saw her again.’
Tully patted his arm in a show of compassion which didn’t fool Mikey at all. ‘Tell you what, Quinn,’ he said. ‘You stop wi’ me and I’ll see you all right. You and your pals.’ He winked at him. ‘We’ll mek our fortune in London, believe me.’
Tully spoke to Simon before going into the tavern, having tied the horses to a lamppost which couldn’t possibly have contained them if they had seen fit to bolt, but the horses seemed as weary as Mikey felt and stood with their heads and necks drooping towards the gutter.