by Valerie Wood
There was already a group of people clustered round a wooden stall, where a woman and a man in a shabby overcoat and a clerical collar were attending to a heated brazier with a cauldron on it.
‘It’s not ready,’ the man called out. ‘You’re all far too early. Now then,’ he said on seeing the newcomers. ‘We haven’t seen you before.’
‘We’ve just arrived in London,’ Simon said. ‘And we’ve found ourselves without decent lodgings.’
Some of the people in the crowd nudged each other as Simon spoke and Mikey wished that he hadn’t. With his voice nobody would guess that we were down and out. He glanced round at the crowd. There were men, women and children wearing little more than rags; the children were mostly barefoot, their dirty toes curling up against the cold.
‘We’ve come looking for work,’ Bridget said. ‘There’s none where we come from.’
‘You’ll not find it here,’ a woman called out. ‘There’s no work for us as was born here, let alone foreigners.’
‘We’re not foreigners,’ Bridget objected. ‘We’re from Hull.’
‘That’s foreign,’ the woman replied. ‘Sounds foreign anyway,’ she muttered.
‘Well, there’ll be enough soup for all of you,’ the parson said in a forced jolly manner. ‘And who knows what tomorrow will bring? The good Lord will take care of us all, and if we pray together He might have work for everyone who looks for it.’
He put his hands together, as did his wife, and they both closed their eyes. ‘Shall we give thanks,’ he intoned, ‘and thank Him for the food we are about to eat.’
Bridget sighed and crossed herself, and the two small boys squeezed their eyes tight and clasped their fingers fervently. Mikey and Simon glanced at each other, and although both made a token gesture of putting their hands together, neither of them prayed aloud as the rest of the crowd were doing. I’ll say my thanks when I’ve eaten, Mikey thought. Not before.
The potato soup was hot and filling and they were given a slice of bread to dip into it. They all rubbed their noses and sniffed as they drank from the bowls, then wiped the bread round them to take up every last drop.
Sam licked his lips. ‘Best soup I’ve ever had,’ he said. ‘I wish I could have some more.’
The parson heard him. ‘Sufficient unto the day,’ he said, then bent down towards him. ‘Were you very hungry, boy?’
Sam nodded. ‘We both are,’ he said. ‘Me and William.’
‘And what are you doing here so far from your home? Who brought you here?’ He looked at Mikey. ‘Is this your brother?’
‘No.’ Mikey shook his head. ‘The man we’re travelling with collected them from Coventry.’
The parson frowned. ‘For what purpose?’
Mikey shook his head. ‘Don’t know, sir.’
‘Is he a relative, this man you’re travelling with?’ the Reverend asked solemnly.
‘Not of mine, sir. We met him – well, knew of him.’ Mikey baulked at lying to the parson. ‘And then he offered us a lift to London and promised us work.’
‘Do I detect a northern accent?’ the parson’s wife asked. ‘Yorkshire perhaps?’
William pulled on Mikey’s arm before he could answer. ‘Can we go now?’ he said. ‘If there’s no more soup.’
‘Come again the day after tomorrow,’ the woman told him. ‘We’re here three evenings a week.’
The parson delayed Mikey for a moment before they left. ‘If you should have cause for concern about the youngsters,’ he said in a low voice, ‘my wife and I run a school for destitute boys. We teach them to read and write and give them a hot meal every day; alas, we don’t have room to let them all stay overnight, but they have the advantage of a Christian education.’
Mikey thanked him and as he walked away he deliberated on the usefulness of such a scheme if the boys had to spend nights without shelter.
His spirits sank as they approached the derelict building which was their temporary home. His mother had always had a fire burning in the grate and the children would never walk past a piece of brushwood or kindling without picking it up to bring home and burn. One of Mikey’s regular pursuits was to walk down to the River Hull and search for a washed-up spar or burnable wreckage, and sometimes he would hang about a carpenter’s shop in the hope of being given an offcut of timber. This building was cold and damp and dismal with no means of making a fire.
They climbed the steps and opened the door. Mikey ushered in the younger boys and then followed them, Bridget and Simon dragging their reluctant feet behind him.
‘There you are, m’dearies,’ Tully called to them. ‘Come along in. We’ve got ’news we were waiting for.’ He was rubbing his hands together and leering at them in an over-friendly manner which instantly made Mikey suspicious.
A lamp had been lit which threw long dark shadows about the room; Tully’s, Gilby’s and a stranger’s. Mikey gazed keenly at the newcomer. Was this the contact that Tully had been speaking of? He was younger than Tully by far, perhaps in his late twenties. Tall, long fair hair and an open generous expression which perhaps with slight reservation you might trust.
‘How do?’ he said, coming towards them. ‘I hear we’re going to work together. You’re Quinn, I gather? My name’s Tony Manners.’
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
‘Tony Manners!’ Bridget exclaimed. ‘We met your ma! Didn’t we, Mikey? And your gran as well.’
Tony Manners frowned. ‘How come?’
‘When we were travelling,’ Mikey broke in, thinking that perhaps Tony Manners might not want everybody to know he was from Retford.
‘We stopped wi’ your gran,’ Bridget butted in, ‘and met your ma. She said if by chance we should run into you to tell you to go home.’
Tony Manners laughed, his full cheeks dimpling. ‘Fat chance of that. Do this, go there, get a proper job. No fear. I’m doing all right on my own thank you very much.’
Mikey shrugged. ‘Well, we’ve passed ’message on. What is it that you do exactly and how do we fit in?’
Manners glanced at Tully, who shook his head. ‘I’m in ’import business,’ he said. ‘I’ve got a warehouse near to the docks and I need some extra staff. Tully said he had two lads who’d fit the bill.’
Simon chewed on his lip and then said. ‘Not labouring work, I hope, because I’ll not do that.’
‘Ah.’ Manners nodded at Simon. ‘You’ll be the educated one,’ he said. ‘No, I need somebody like you to look after the books and organize deliveries and such, whilst you, Quinn …’
I’ll get ’labouring jobs then, Mikey thought with a degree of bitterness. Cos I’m not educated.
‘I need somebody sharp-witted to help me run things,’ Manners went on. ‘You know, keep an eye on the men to make sure they’re not helping themselves to stuff.’
Tully’s told him that I’ve been in prison, Mikey thought resentfully. He’s told him that I stole. It takes a thief to know another. Will my reputation always follow me? Will I never shake it off?
‘What about me?’ Bridget piped up. ‘What am I to do?’ She looked anxious; worried that she might be left behind.
‘I’ve got something in mind for you, m’dear,’ Tully chipped in. ‘Something special up ’West End.’
‘West end? What’s that?’ she asked. She narrowed her eyes. ‘Doing what?’
‘I’ll tell you later,’ he mumbled. ‘Now then.’ His voice rose. ‘Come on, let’s get started. We’re moving off to the new lodgings which our friend here has kindly found for us. Get your gear.’
They’d nothing to take. None of them had any possessions except for Mikey, who still had Mrs Turner’s blanket, which he had used to cover Sam and William when they were sleeping on the cold floor. He picked it up and slung it over his shoulder.
‘What about these bairns?’ he asked Tully. ‘Where are they going?’
‘Why, with us!’ Tully feigned astonishment at the question. ‘O’ course they come with us. Would we leave ’em behind?�
� He patted William on the head. ‘We’ve got plans, haven’t we, William? Great plans for you two and Bridget.’
William looked up, his eyes large in his dirty face. He licked his lips. ‘Can we go home?’ he said plaintively. ‘I wish we could.’
Sam took his hand. ‘We ain’t got no home, William. Not any more we ain’t. We’ve to go wiv Mr Tully. He promised Uncle Walter he’d tek care of us.’
Bridget glared at Tully. ‘Don’t think I’m going to be nursemaid to ’em,’ she told him. ‘I’m not cut out for that. I’ve had enough of lookin’ after ’bairns in my own family without anybody else’s.’
‘No, no,’ Tully soothed her. ‘It’ll all be explained in due course; now come along.’ He ushered them all out of the door. ‘Let’s be off.’
There was a single-horse open waggon tied up outside. Manners unfastened the rope and urged them all to climb aboard. Then he climbed up on to the raised metal driving seat and shook the reins and they were off, six of them plus the two children.
They travelled for over an hour; the rain was coming down in a fine steady drizzle and for much of the time there were no street lights until they came to a long road which was better lit, the gas lamps flickering yellow through the mist. Manners called out to them that this was Commercial Road and that they would soon arrive in Wapping, their destination. The two young boys were grizzling; they were cold and wet, even though they were huddled together under Mikey’s blanket.
They passed many long side streets filled with houses and there were lots of people about; most looked like labouring men coming home from work, but there were women too dressed in grey shawls and shabby skirts. Shops were open and some houses had stalls and wheelbarrows and large cane baskets containing fish or fruit outside their doorways. Mangy cats and scratching dogs hung about and small children played in the gutters.
‘This is no better than the other place,’ Simon whispered to Mikey. ‘It’s total degradation. What are we doing here?’
Mikey silently shook his head. He was tired and hungry and felt utterly defeated. I should have stayed in Hull, he thought. At least I would have been with people I knew, even doorways I was fond of. He thought with affection of St Mary’s archway. Looking back, the paving didn’t seem to have been so very hard.
He recalled the excitement he had felt as he’d travelled on the ferry on the first leg of his journey from Hull. Everything seemed rosy then, he thought. I was off on an adventure. I made the wrong decision, and because of that, so did Bridget. She wouldn’t have come if it hadn’t been for me. But we have to make the best of it, and then as soon as we can, with money in our pockets, we’ll make our way back. He was about to say as much to Simon and Bridget when the waggon drew to a halt and Manners called out that they had arrived.
A tall warehouse down a side street and round the corner from a seedy public house was their destination. They drew into a large yard, and from the outside the building didn’t seem very different from the one they had vacated in Whitechapel. Large wooden doors fronted it, and there was a side door which Tony Manners unlocked. He lit a lamp on a shelf inside and they saw a steep and narrow staircase.
‘Come on up,’ he said. ‘Gilby, lock the door behind you.’
They followed Manners up the stairs, which opened into a large room. There was a table and several chairs, and along one wall were alcoves containing mattresses. A sink was set in one corner and almost at the end of the room was a stove with a metal chimney. They all rushed towards it and put out their hands. It was warm.
Tony Manners opened a wall cupboard and brought out bread and cheese and a bag of tea, and set a kettle on top of the stove. They all silently watched him, hardly daring to hope that food and drink was about to be served. William began to cry and Sam hushed him. ‘In a minute,’ he said. ‘In a minute.’
They were reluctant to leave the warmth of the stove, but Manners told them to sit at the table and eat the bread and cheese, promising that he would go out and buy a meat pie as soon as the tea was brewed.
‘You see how well my ma brought me up,’ he grinned. ‘Not many men know how to make a pot o’ tea.’
I know, Mikey thought, but I’m not going to tell him or else it’ll be my job from now on.
Whilst they were eating and drinking their tea, Tony Manners slipped out and within ten minutes was back with enough steaming hot meat pie for them all, including Tully and the ever silent Gilby. They ate hungrily, stuffing the pie into their mouths with their fingers and greedily licking off the gravy. Then William put his head down on the table and fell asleep.
‘Put him to bed. Put him to bed,’ Tully said to no one in particular.
Bridget glanced down at the sleeping child and went on eating as if she hadn’t heard, and it was Mikey who picked him up and carried him across to one of the mattresses, where he curled up with his knees to his chest.
Sam rose from the table. He had gravy on his chin. ‘I’ll sleep wiv him,’ he said. ‘Cos he’ll wake up and not know where he is.’
‘Good boy.’ Tully nodded approvingly. ‘You look after your brother and tomorrow we’ll go out on a treat.’ He winked at Bridget. ‘We’ll tek a look at ’shops in ’West End, shall we, m’dear? You’ll like that, I’ll be bound. Don’t she look like a young woman who’d like that, Tony?’
‘Certainly does,’ Tony Manners agreed. ‘Yes, you go off and enjoy yourselves and we’ll hatch out a working plan, eh, fellows?’ he said jovially to Mikey and Simon.
‘Sounds all right to me,’ Simon said. ‘I shall be ready for anything now after food and a good night’s sleep.’
‘Quinn?’ Manners raised his eyebrows in Mikey’s direction. ‘What do you think?’
Mikey nodded. ‘Yeh. What did you say you were importing?’
Manners’s friendly face creased about the eyes and his mouth set. ‘I didn’t,’ he said. Then he smiled. ‘We’ll discuss it in the morning.’
Tully roused them early the next morning. It was still dark, and the sky was obscured by heavy rain clouds. They breakfasted on bread and tea and then he told Bridget and the younger boys to come out to the yard in ten minutes. When they came down the steps he was sitting in the driving seat of the waggon waiting for them.
‘Just borrowing this for today,’ he explained. ‘Manners doesn’t mind. I’ll get another hoss by tomorrow.’
‘Where did you say we’re going?’ Bridget asked again.
‘Told you,’ he said irritably. ‘Up to ’West End.’
‘But what is it?’ she asked. ‘West end of what?’
‘It’s called ’West End,’ he said. ‘It’s where all ’best shops are. And parks,’ he added.
She had to be satisfied with that, for he was obviously not going to tell her more, but she was anxious about her role. Mikey and Simon had gone off with Tony Manners, down to the wharves, he’d said, but they were as ignorant as she was about what they were to do to earn their living.
They drove past dismal streets of blackened terraced housing. Some of the courts and yards contained pigs which seemed to have free access to the open doors of the dwellings. Behind these buildings were other alleys, some divided from their neighbours by stinking drains. A constant stream of workers trudged along with bent backs, their eyes lowered to seek out broken paving and mud-filled potholes. When she asked Tully where they were going he simply grunted, ‘Dock workers.’
Presently, as a watery sun came up, she saw that the housing was slightly improved. Terraced houses stood to either side of the road and although some were boarded up, there were others with lace curtains and potted plants in the windows and clean-scrubbed doorsteps. Here and there in the gaps between the terraces were strips of turned land showing lines of cabbages. Some had wooden huts on them and others a goat or a cow.
It was almost midday when Tully said, ‘Nearly there, missy. Primp yourself up a bit.’
Bridget had been admiring the changing view. The terraced housing they were passing now was tall and impos
ing, often with ornamentation, pillars and wide steps to the heavy front doors. Many of the dwellings had carriages or dog carts waiting outside, their drivers dressed in smart clothing. There wasn’t a sign of a privy or a pump, and tubs outside the doors were set with small green trees.
She looked up at Tully. Primp yourself up! Though she had washed under the pump this morning, she was wearing the same clothes that she had worn to set off on the journey from Hull.
‘How?’ she asked. ‘How can I do that?’
‘En’t you got a comb?’ he said. ‘No? Well, run your fingers through your curls then. I don’t know,’ he chuntered. ‘What do girls do?’
‘I need another skirt,’ she said. ‘You said we were going to look at ’shops.’
‘We are.’ He raised his whip. ‘Look at that. Never seen owt like that afore, have you?’
She hadn’t, and the spectacle before her drew her breath away. A large grass square was surrounded by elegant houses as big as palaces; riders, the men in top hats and the women in riding costume, were trotting along the clean neat paths below overhanging trees; through the bare branches, she could see white marble statues gleaming in the midday sunshine.
This is for me, she breathed. This is where I want to live. The two boys lifted their heads above the rim of the waggon.
‘Ooh,’ William said. ‘Are we in heaven?’
‘I think we might be.’ Bridget smiled. ‘As near as we’re likely to get, anyway. Where are ’shops?’ she called to Tully. ‘There are none here.’
He drew up at the side of the road and turned towards her. ‘We have to go and see a mate o’ mine first. His wife has a shop – o’ sorts. We’ll get you summat from her.’
‘How come you know folk in London?’ she asked. ‘I thought you were from Hull? You talk like Hull.’
‘Been around a bit,’ he said. ‘Lived all over. Born in London I was, but moved north when I was just a nipper.’ He leaned down and lowered his voice. ‘Don’t tek offence now, will you, but I need to know. Are you a gay gel?’