The Cockney Girl

by The Cockney Girl (retail) (epub)

  ‘What we gonna do, Sam? ’Ow we gonna get anythin’ to eat?’ Ted was scared. His mum had always been there to sort out things like food. His insides rumbled. ‘I’m a growin’ boy, me, I need me grub.’ His voice sounded pathetic.

  ‘I dunno, Ted. I never realised we was spendin’ so much.’ Sammy sat at the once scrubbed kitchen table that was now ringed with tea stains and sliced the last of the stale loaf in two.

  ‘Ain’t there even no drippin’?’ Ted couldn’t believe it had come to dry bread and tea with no milk. ‘I’m starvin’, Sam. I’ll die, I will. An’ then yer’ll cop it from Mum, an’ good job an’ all.’

  ‘’Oo’s starvin’?’ Charlie swaggered into the kitchen, cap pulled well down over one eye, white stock tied neatly at his throat. It was the first time either of his brothers had seen him in two days.

  ‘I am, Charlie. Proper starvin’. We ain’t ’ad no tea. An’ I’ve been at work all day an’ all. I’m really ’ungry.’ Ted gripped his guts and rolled his eyes. ‘I think I’ll pass out soon, honest.’

  ‘Well, young ’un, we can’t ’ave yer workin’ on an empty Derby Kelly, now can we?’ Charlie put his hand in his pocket and threw a handful of silver on to the table in front of his disbelieving brothers.

  ‘Blimey, Charlie, what yer done? Robbed a bank?’ Ted was impressed.

  ‘Never yer mind,’ said Charlie, winking at his little brother. ‘Just get yerself up the corner and fetch the three of us some nice fish and taters. Plenty of cracklin’ an’ onion vinegar on mine.’

  Ted, eyes like saucers at the thought of all that lovely grub, gathered up the coins enthusiastically.

  ‘An’ fetch a couple of quarts of mild from The Star an’ all. Now go on, I wanna talk to Sammy.’

  Sammy listened for the front door to close, then leaned across the table to his brother. ‘What’s all this about, Charlie? Where’d yer get that money from? Yer in trouble again?’

  ‘I got meself a job,’ said Charlie, rocking the wooden chair on its back legs.

  ‘What d’yer mean? Yer’ve already got a job.’

  ‘I don’t mean down that poxy woodyard,’ sneered Charlie. ‘That’s a load of shit if yer ask me. I mean a real job, with real money.’

  ‘What’s goin’ on, Charlie?’ Sammy was concerned that something dangerous was happening, and that he might somehow become involved. Sammy had never had the courage nor the brains of his younger brother, and it didn’t worry him at all, not one little bit. He was a coward and proud of it.

  ‘I went down Pennyfields…’

  ‘Yer’ve been down Chinatown?’ Sammy’s eyes were on stalks. ‘Mum’ll kill yer if she finds out yer’ve been down there. Yer know what she told us.’

  ‘So ’oo’s gonna tell ’er then? You? Now, do yer wanna listen or not?’

  When he was satisfied that Sammy would keep quiet, Charlie continued.

  ‘Some bloke come up to me an’ said ’e’d ’eard ’ow I could fight. So I said to ’im, “Aw yeh. ’Oo says?” An’ ’e said it was none of my business, but if I could fight then ’e could offer me an interestin’ business proposition. That’s what ’e said, Sam, “an interesting business proposition”.’

  ‘What yer got yerself involved in, Charlie? It’s a different world down there. It ain’t for the likes of us.’

  ‘Aw, leave off, Sam, it was a bit of a lark, that’s all.’ Charlie dismissed his big brother’s concern with a wave of his hand. ‘They was ’aving a bare-knuckle contest, see, down by the dock gates on a bit of waste ground. They wanted someone what could look after ’imself. Well, there was a lot of gamblin’ goin’ on. A real lot. Yer know what it’s like down there, as bad as the spielers in Whitechapel. Worse, if anythin’. Big money, know what I mean? An’, as it ’appens, a lot of the money was on yours truly, Charlie Fairleigh.’

  Charlie studied his fingernails arrogantly then looked up to check Sammy’s reaction to the story so far. He was pleased to see his big brother’s mouth was wide open.

  ‘Well, I won, didn’t I? Mind yer, I got this for me trouble.’ Charlie lifted his cap to display a deeply cut and bruised eye. ‘Should ’ave seen the other geezer, though.’ He grinned broadly, obviously delighted with his achievements.

  ‘They paid yer then, did they? For gettin’ that?’

  Sammy screwed up his face, imagining the pain involved in being punched hard enough for it to do that much damage.

  ‘Too right, my son. They certainly did that all right. Paid me an ’ole ’alf a guinea, if yer must know. Not bad for a nineteen-year-old, eh?’ He winked at Sam. ‘But that ain’t all. This bloke I told yer about, ’e only wants to enter me for a fight at Premierland, don’t ’e.’

  Sammy didn’t need to utter a word: his boggle-eyed expression said it all.

  ‘Fifteen bob I’ll get, whether I win or lose.’

  ‘No!’

  ‘Truth. But first I’ve got another bare-knuckle fight down Chinatown. In some private club where all the big gamblers go for a bit of the real action.’

  ‘When’s this fight gonna ’appen then?’ Sammy was horrified, yet intrigued.

  ‘Tomorrow. Yer comin’ to cheer me on?’

  ‘Couldn’t if I wanted to, Charlie.’ Sammy shrugged. ‘No money.’

  ‘Don’t yer worry yerself about that, Sammy. ’Ere yer are.’ Charlie took the rest of the coins from his pocket and handed them over to his big brother. ‘An’ there’ll be plenty more where that came from an’ all, my son. Now, where’s that Ted? I’m starvin’.’

  The next morning Jack didn’t have the chance to throw any stones up at the boys’ bedroom window. Before he had even collected his first handful, Charlie and Ted had opened the street door.

  ‘Charlie?’ said Jack, stepping back into the gutter at the shock of seeing them up so bright and early. ‘What yer doing ’ere?’

  ‘I live ’ere, Jacko, didn’t yer know? An’ I thought yer was meant to be a postman an’ all.’

  ‘Very funny.’ Jack chose to ignore Charlie’s teasing use of his old nickname. He stepped up to the street door and peered along the shadowy passage; he wasn’t sure what he was looking for, but something was bound to be wrong. ‘I ain’t seen much of yer round ’ere lately, that’s all,’ Jack said, squinting into the darkness.

  ‘No, well I’ve ’ad a bit of business to attend to, ain’t I?’ Charlie sniffed loudly, savouring the early autumn air. ‘Now, if yer’ll excuse me.’

  With that, Charlie pushed past the astonished postman and ran off down the cobbled street, wearing nothing but a pair of baggy knee-length shorts and a greying, holey vest.

  ‘Our Charlie’s in trainin’ see, Jack. ’E’s fightin’ in Chinatown, an’ I’m gonna see ’im. An’ guess what? ’E’s only gonna fight at Premierland, ain’t ’e? That’s all. What do yer think of that then?’

  Jack wasn’t given the opportunity to comment on these amazing revelations. Sammy had appeared on the narrow stairs. His voice was tight.

  ‘Ted, get in ’ere. I thought Charlie said yer wasn’t to tell no one.’

  ‘It’s all right, Sam. It’s only Jack.’

  ‘Well, now yer’ve gone an’ done it, Ted. ’E’ll go and tell…’

  Before Sam could finish, Jack had walked along the passage and into the kitchen. Sammy hurriedly followed him, taking the opportunity to swipe Ted a quick fourpenny one round the back of his head as he squeezed past.

  ‘’Oo will I tell, Sam? Rose?’ Jack had settled himself at the table. ‘That what yer worried about? Yer meant to be the oldest an’ look at yer. Lettin’ Ted go down Chinatown and Gawd knows what else.’

  ‘I ain’t been down Chinatown, Jack, not yet, but Sammy’s takin’ me. I’ll be all right.’

  Sammy’s threat of another swipe round the head was not nearly enough to stop his excited little brother from babbling on about the great events.

  ‘Our Charlie’s got this big fight tonight an’ we’re both goin’ to see ’im. Good, eh?’

&nb
sp; ‘Thank you, Ted. Thank you very much. Now ’e knows the bloody lot.’ Sam was angry. ‘Shut up and get out of ’ere, can’t yer. Go on, an’ get ready for work.’

  ‘No, yer wait ’ere a minute, Ted.’ Jack held on to the boy’s arm. ‘I wanna talk to yer.’

  Sam sighed deeply, knowing he was fighting a losing battle. He nodded for his brother to sit down at the table.

  ‘I promised yer mum I’d keep an eye on yer an’ I intend doin’ just that. For a start, Ted, ’ave you been down the slipper baths yet? Rose said yer was to go once a week.’

  ‘I ain’t exactly been down the baths, Jack. But I ’ave ’ad me bath,’ he added brightly.

  This time it was Sammy who started questioning him. ‘Where ’ave yer been then? I give yer the penny Sunday night.’

  ‘I used that to buy the bag of peanuts we ’ad at the flicks.’ Ted sounded injured. ‘Yer should know, Sammy, you et most of ’em.’

  ‘Yer little sod,’ hollered Sammy. ‘Yer ain’t ’ad yer bath, ’ave yer?’

  ‘I ’ave, Sam.’ Ted’s face was a picture of hurt innocence. ‘I went down the Thames with me mates. We went swimmin’ off the stairs down Wappin’.’

  Jack shook his head at the bedlam he had come into. ‘That’s flamin’ wonderful, that is. She ain’t even been away a fortnight yet an’ I’ll be goin’ down ’opping to tell yer mum yer’ve been drowned. That’ll be ’andsome, that will.’

  Ted dropped his head so that his chin nearly touched his chest. Sammy muttered to himself and shoved his chair back so hard it fell over, crashing loudly on to the bare wooden floor.

  ‘I’ll make some tea,’ he groaned.

  Jack lifted Ted’s face, squeezing his plump adolescent cheeks, making him look him in the eye. ‘Anythin’ else yer wanna tell me, Ted? Yer ain’t been ’angin’ around with none of them gels from Whitechapel like Sammy does, ‘ave yer?’ Jack let go of the boy’s face. ‘What the ’ell ’ave I got meself into, lookin’ out for you mob?’

  ‘’Ello, Jacko boy, yer still ’ere then?’ Charlie entered the kitchen, sweating and panting from his exercise. He bounced around the little room, jabbing punches into the air, shadow-boxing his invisible opponent. ‘I thought yer was the one what always worried about bein’ late for work. This won’t do, now will it?’

  ‘Jack reckons I’ve been ’angin’ round with birds, Charlie.’ Ted was getting worried. He wondered exactly what Jack was planning to tell his mother.

  ‘The only birds young Ted ’ere’s interested in is ’is racin’ pigeons. Ain’t that right, young ’un? Not like our Sammy one bit, are yer, mate?’ Still jigging around the room, Charlie paused to pat his little brother’s cheek affectionately. Ted beamed up at him with relief.

  ‘It ain’t right, yer know, Charlie.’

  ‘Yer talkin’ to me, Jack?’ Charlie had stopped skipping around. He was standing very still. He looked at Jack calmly, but he was agitated, they could all see that.

  ‘D’yer want some tea, Chas?’ Sammy asked quietly. He held out a cup to his brother, hoping to distract him. Charlie had a real temper on him when he got going.

  ‘Later.’ Charlie didn’t take his eyes off the postman.

  Jack swallowed hard. ‘Yeh, Charlie, I was talkin’ to yer. I don’t reckon yer should be encouragin’ Ted to go down that place.’

  ‘I dunno what yer think goes on down there, Jack.’ Charlie moved closer to the table where Jack was sitting stock-still, like a rabbit cornered by a terrier. ‘But there’s a lot of shit talked about Chinatown. They’re people, just like you and me. An’ jus’ the same as anywhere else in this poxy world, there’s respectable geezers an’ there’s dodgy ’uns. An’ if yer think I’d let young Ted ’ere get ’urt in any way then yer a bigger fool than I reckoned.’ Charlie narrowed his eyes and leant even closer. Jack could feel his breath hot on his cheek as he spoke. ‘An’ they’re just earnin’ a livin’, makin’ a few bob, that’s all. Just givin’ people what they want.’

  ‘An’ yer gonna ’elp ’em do it, are yer?’ Jack coughed trying to keep control of his quavering voice. ‘Put on a bit of a show for ’em?’

  ‘That’s right. Now, as I said earlier, Jack, if yer’ll excuse me, I’ve got business to attend to. An’ I thought you ’ad letters to deliver.’ Charlie swept out of the room and took the narrow stairs to his bedroom three at a time.

  Jack let out a long, relieved sigh. ‘I was goin’ anyway,’ he said. He stood up, scraping his chair noisily back from the table. ‘But yer listen to me, Sammy,’ he said, pointing a warning finger at the oldest of the Fairleigh brood. ‘I’ll be round ’ere tonight, directly yer’ve finished work. An’ yer’d better not get no ideas about creepin’ off without me.’ Jack picked up his sack and swung it on to his shoulder.

  ‘Yer think yer clever now our Charlie ain’t ’ere,’ said Sammy cockily.

  ‘No, more like stupid to be botherin’ with you lot,’ he answered bitterly. ‘Now, if yer really set on takin’ young Ted to Chinatown, then I’m goin’ with yer. At least I’ll see ’e don’t get in no bother that way. Look good, wouldn’t it, if ’e wound up in one of them opium dens? Please Rose good and proper that would.’ Jack walked out, slamming the door behind him.

  ‘Sammy,’ said Ted. ‘What’s an opium den?’

  ‘Aw, shut up,’ said Sam.

  * * *

  Ted had never been into Chinatown before, not right into the tight little maze of streets in which he now found himself. He walked through the twisting byways, staring down the fog-shrouded alleys and into the arches which led to places he couldn’t even imagine down by the banks of the Thames. He had often ventured to the edges of the mysterious Oriental quarter when his friends had taunted each other, seeing how far they would dare go, but this time it was different. Ted felt brave. He was with his big brother Sammy and with Jack Barnes. And they were all going to see Charlie – the toughest bloke in Poplar, Ted reckoned – have a fight in some secret club. This wasn’t scary, not really, this was more like an adventure.

  Nearly every house they passed seemed to be involved in running a business of some kind out of its overflowing rooms. Over the doorways brightly painted silk banners fluttered, each one covered in strange symbols picked out in gold. Everywhere there were pictures of dragons and mountains, birds and trees, serpents and monsters, all illuminated by guttering lamps and candles. Pungent scents from open windows mingled with the musty smell of damp. Ted’s senses were filled as he walked along wide-eyed and open-mouthed.

  Boys of about his own age, with his same adolescent energy, ran through the streets shouting words to each other that Ted couldn’t understand. They were dressed in a way that Ted had only glimpsed before. Now he saw them close up he could see they were wearing tight leggings and high-necked tunics, and, on their heads, little hats with tassels dangling down behind.

  The older Chinese men moved much more slowly along the narrow, bustling streets. Their hands were tucked inside the wide, flowing sleeves of their richly coloured floor-length satin robes. They wore their hair in long pigtails and had even longer beards. Several times Ted was so preoccupied with the wonders which surrounded him that he knocked into the exotically garbed strangers and was admonished by them in their unfamiliar tongue. But nothing could put him off staring. Every few yards there was some new thing at which to marvel.

  Sammy was not so delighted with the experience. ‘I can’t see many gels about, Jack,’ he complained.

  ‘They ’ave different ways, I suppose,’ said Jack, shrugging. ‘Perhaps they don’t go about the streets by ’emselves. Anyway, yer should be worryin’ about yer little brother for a change, not thinkin’ about gels.’

  ‘Aw, shut up, Jack,’ scowled Sammy. ‘Yer don’t ’alf go on all the time.’

  Jack shook his head in despair. Not for the first time he wondered how Sammy and Charlie could possibly come from the same family as Jessie and Rose.

  ‘Look, Sam,’ shouted Ted, bouncing around in front of his br
other. ‘Look, there’s our Charlie. Look, Jack, over there ’e is. That must be the club. Come on.’

  Ted ran off across the street, dodging in between the slowly moving locals. ‘’Ello, Charlie,’ he said, breathless with exertion and excitement. ‘We’ve come to see yer fight.’

  ‘’Ello, little ’un. Come to bring me luck, ’ave yer?’ Charlie ruffled Ted’s hair affectionately. ‘Blimey, ’oo’s this yer’ve brought with yer? ’Ow on earth d’yer get Jacky boy down ’ere?’

  ‘Don’t get no wrong ideas, Charlie. I’m ’ere for yer mum’s sake, that’s all.’

  Sam strolled nonchalantly over to join his brothers in the sombrely lit doorway of the narrow terraced house. ‘’Ello, Charlie, mate. This the place then? Looks a bit poky to me.’

  ‘Don’t be ’orrible, Sam,’ said Ted. ‘I think it looks smashin’, Charlie.’

  ‘When’s this fight supposed to start, then?’ asked Sam, looking past Charlie into the hallway of the house. ‘I don’t want to ’ang around ’ere all night, yer know. I’ve got better things to do with me time.’

  ‘Well, I wouldn’t wanna keep yer ’ere an’ disappoint all the gels in Poplar, Sam,’ said Charlie sarcastically. ‘I know what important work it is, thrillin’ the gels. But it won’t start ’til they’ve finished their game of Puck-A-Poo in there. An’ don’t ask, cos I don’t know when that’ll be.’ Charlie became more serious, dropping his voice to a whisper. ‘Honest, though, Sam, I’ve never seen gamblin’ like it. Yer should see ’em. They don’t stop. An’ the money they lay out.’ He shook his head in wonder at the amounts he had witnessed being exchanged.

  Ted had his forehead pressed against one of the windows, and was shielding his eyes with his hands, trying to see into the dark interior of the little house.

  ‘What are them men doin’ layin’ about on them beds, Charlie?’

  ‘Come away, Ted,’ said Jack. ‘That’s nothin’ to do with us.’

  ‘’E’ll ‘ave to grow up some time, Jacko,’ said Charlie. He folded his strong arms and leant against the doorway. ‘They’re smokin’ opium pipes, son. The “Palace of Dreams” they calls that room. But don’t see why they do it meself. Loungin’ about for hours smokin’ them pipes. Then they just goes off to sleep. Seems a waste of time an’ money to me. But they seem to like it.’