The Cockney Girl

by The Cockney Girl (retail) (epub)

  ‘She ill or somethin’?’ asked Sammy.

  ‘’Oo’s she, the cat’s mother?’

  ‘Leave off, Jess, stop yer moanin’,’ whined Sammy. ‘What’s up with ’er then?’

  ‘It’s ’er chest. It ain’t cleared up yet.’

  ‘But yer’ve been ’ere two weeks.’

  ‘I ain’t stupid, Sammy. I know ’ow long I’ve been ’ere. Sssh, ’ere she is. Just be quiet. An’ don’t say nothin’ about it,’ Jess warned both her brothers with a look that showed she meant it. ‘She’ll only get upset.’

  “Ere’s me boys. Come an’ give yer old mum a great big kiss.’

  Ted and Sam threw their arms around Rose. Ted started sniffling.

  ‘’Ark at ’im, Mum,’ tutted Sammy. ‘I was sayin’ ’e’ll ’ave to go back to school if ’e can’t behave like a proper bloke.’

  ‘Leave ’im alone, Sammy. Yer pleased to see yer ol’ mum, that’s all, ain’t yer, me little love?’

  ‘An’ we’ve got a real good surprise for yer, Mum, yer wait an’ see,’ sniffed Ted. ‘Yer go in the ’ut, go on. You an’ all, Jessie.’

  Rose pushed open the hut door. ‘Bill!’

  ‘Wotcher, me old darlin’,’ said Bill, coming out of the hut towards her, his arms stretched wide.

  ‘’Ow’ve yer been, girl?’ He wrapped his arms round his wife and kissed her. Then he hugged his daughter. ‘An’ look at this beauty. Blimey, Jess, yer a young lady now and no mistake.’

  ‘Dad!’ Jessie hugged her father tight.

  ‘Gimme another go,’ beamed Rose, and she moved forward to take her place again in her Bill’s arms.

  Jess went over to her brothers.

  ‘Sam, Ted. Where’s Jack?’ she asked quietly.

  * * *

  All the huts at Worlington were buzzing with the excitement of the arrival of the weekend visitors. Even Mabel Lawrence’s children were infected by the atmosphere of celebration. And their mother was glad to accept Elsie’s invitation to join the Dorkin family and Joey Fuller ‘for a bit of tea’ – the pie, mash and liquor that Elsie’s husband Percie had brought all the way from London in a great big china mixing bowl covered with a piece of old sheet.

  By the late afternoon a party mood had developed and the pickers and their guests started thinking about decamping to the Hop Bine, the pub in the village.

  Rose, however, chose not to go. She was content to sit round the fire drinking tea and listening to her Bill telling his stories about the jungles and beasts of South America.

  ‘If only our Charlie was ’ere with us, eh, Bill?’ she said wistfully. ‘Then it would be all of us. All the Fairleighs together again.’

  ‘I know, love, but it sounds like it was an opportunity ’e couldn’t miss. ’E’s a man now, Rose, nearly nineteen. We was married at that age. ’E ’as to make ’is own way in the world some time.’

  ‘Talk about a chip off the old block,’ said Rose, smiling and shaking her head. ‘D’yer know, Bill, that’s exactly what ’e said to me: “A real opportunity” ’e said.’

  Rose looked into the far distance, sipping her tea, thinking about Charlie walking away from her across the Common, and his big opportunity, his new life. She bit her lip, praying in her own way that he’d be safe. That maybe one day he’d come home to her.

  ‘Yer quiet, Jessie love,’ said Bill, putting his arm round his daughter’s shoulders. ‘Miles away, yer are. Sittin’ starin’ into that fire like it was gonna tell yer fortune or somethin’.’

  ‘I was wonderin’ where ’e was, that’s all, Dad.’

  ‘Gawd, Jessie, wash yer ear’oles out, gel. Yer mother’s been tellin’ us for the past ’alf-hour. ’E’s gone to work in a club, in Chicago, ain’t ’e? In America.’

  ‘No, Dad. I know about Charlie, Mum told me in the week. I was wonderin’ where Jack was.’

  ‘Jack?’ Bill frowned, confused by this new turn in the conversation.

  ‘Jacko Barnes,’ piped up Ted, ‘the postman.’

  ‘I know ’oo Jack is, dopey,’ said Bill. ‘’E spent so much time in our ’ouse as a kid ’e might as well ’ave moved in. But what would ’e be doin’ down ’oppin’? Clara ’ates even the idea of it.’

  ‘’E’s sweet on our Jess.’ Ted ducked niftily as Rose stretched out to cuff him.

  ‘Is ’e now?’ said Bill, smiling and turning towards his daughter.

  ‘Yeh,’ continued Ted. ‘’E was the one what give ’er that canary.’ He nodded towards the birdcage hanging outside the hut. ‘Right in front of all of us ’e did. Didn’t care ’oo saw ’im or nothin’. An’ she give ’im a little yellow scarf to keep his skinny neck warm. Bleed’n’ whistlin’ all the time that bird is,’ he added for what he thought was a grown-up effect.

  This time Ted was not quick enough. Rose landed him a sharp wallop round the back of his head. ‘I’ll give yer bleed’n’ whistlin’. What’s all this swearin’ lark? What’ll yer dad think of yer?’

  Ted rubbed his head pitifully. ‘Can’t be much of a bloke anyway if ’e don’t even bother to turn up.’

  ‘Right. That’s it.’ Rose was angry and Ted knew he’d gone too far. ‘Get in that ’ut an’ get to bed. Now.’

  ‘Aw, Mum,’ he snivelled, thinking he might as well push his luck a bit further. ‘I wanted to go down the pub with all the others.’

  ‘Yer start actin’ like a man an’ that’s ’ow yer’ll get treated. Now. Bed.’

  Ted went grudgingly to the hut. ‘Sorry, Jess,’ he murmured.

  ‘What was that, Ted?’ asked Sammy, cupping his hand to his ear. ‘Did yer say somethin’?’

  ‘Leave ’im alone, all of yer,’ Jess burst out suddenly. ‘’E’s only a kid. But ’e’s right. ’E can’t be much of a bloke if ’e let me down like that. An’ it ain’t Ted’s fault Jack Barnes is a rotten liar.’

  ‘Don’t cry, love,’ said Bill, taking his daughter in his arms as she began sobbing uncontrollably. ‘It ain’t worth gettin’ upset over ’im if that’s what ’e’s like.’

  ‘But yer could see ’e really cared for ’er,’ said Rose. She couldn’t get the scrap of yellow cloth that Charlie had left her out of her mind. ‘An’ it ain’t like ’im, actin’ like this. It’s right out a character.’ She turned to her eldest son. ‘Yer ain’t ’eard nothin’, ’ave yer, Sam?’

  ‘Nothin’. In fact, ‘is ol’ man come round Number Eight lookin’ for ’im only yesterday. Clara crept off back to Ireland last week, see, an’ Cyril was wantin’ a few bob sub off Jack to go down The Star.’

  ‘Jack wouldn’t ’ave gone to Ireland with ’is mum, would ’e?’ asked Bill. Even he didn’t sound very convinced by his own question.

  ‘No chance,’ said Rose. ‘Clara likes to travel light.’

  Ted slunk back from the hut to his place by the faggot fire and said in a wheedling voice, ‘Dad. Why don’t yer give our Jessie ’er present? That’ll cheer ’er up.’

  ‘Good idea, son,’ said Bill, bending his head down to smile at Jess. ‘I forgot all about it. Go in the ’ut an’ get it for me, Ted.’

  ‘Yer see, Jess, yer’ll love it,’ said Sam.

  Ted returned from the hut with a large square container covered in a green chenille cloth. He placed it carefully on the ground behind Bill and Jess. Rose and Sam moved closer, eager to see Jess’s reaction.

  ‘Now. What do yer always say to yer old dad whenever ’e goes away to sea?’

  ‘Bring us back a monkey,’ said Jess through her tears. Then her eyes opened wide. ‘Dad, yer ’aven’t? Not really?’ She raised herself up on to her knees. ‘Aw, yer only ’ave, ’aven’t yer? Yer’ve brought me back a monkey. Aw, Dad, let’s see, let’s ’ave a look.’

  Bill uncovered the brass cage and opened the little door. He reached in and handed Jess the tiny golden marmoset. ‘It’s called a ginny monkey, love. Least, that’s what the sailors call ’em. Don’t know what the proper name is.’

  The diminutive creature stared up at her with an almos
t human expression. It opened its minute jaws and yawned, then blinked at the bright firelight.

  ‘Aw, look at it, Dad.’ She turned to her father. ‘I don’t know what to say.’

  ‘Yer’ll ’ave to take care of it, mind. They don’t like the cold. That’s why it ’ad that cloth over it.’

  ‘It’ll be like a bleed’n’ farmyard, what with that an’ Jacko’s canary whistlin’ all day,’ said Ted, without thinking.

  Jess swallowed hard and bowed her head.

  ‘Thank yer, Ted,’ said Sammy, acting very superior, ‘but I think we’ve ’eard enough from yer about canaries for one night.’

  ‘For Gawd’s sake, Sammy, take that boy down the pub and keep ’im quiet,’ said Bill. ‘’Ere. Take this couple o’ bob. Go on. An’ you, Jess. Yer go with ’em. Go and ’ave a laugh, gel.’

  ‘I’d rather stay ’ere, Dad.’

  ‘No, go on. They’ll all be down there. Think yer back ’ome in Burton Street, yer will.’

  ‘Dad, I don’t want to.’

  ‘Listen to yer father,’ said Rose levelly. ‘Do as ’e says.’

  ‘All right, but only cos ’e wants me to.’ Jess stood up, brushing the grass from her skirt. ‘’Ow ’bout you and Dad. Yer coming with us?’

  ‘No, gel,’ said Bill. ‘Me an’ yer mum’s stayin’ ’ere on our own like. We’ve got a lot of things to catch up on. A lot to tell each other. An’ don’t worry, we’ll look after yer monkey for yer.’

  Reluctantly, Jess walked slowly away across the Common. ‘See yer later, then,’ she said miserably.

  Sammy and Ted, keen not to miss valuable drinking time, were already halfway up the lane leading to Tilnhurst before Jess caught up with them.

  ‘That’s them gone,’ said Bill, holding Rose close to him as he poked a long hazel twig into the brightly glowing embers. ‘Fancy our Ted gettin’ so tall, eh? I can ’ardly believe ’ow grown-up they all are.’

  ‘An’ I can’t believe what’s ’appened to our poor Jess,’ Rose responded a bit sharper than she’d meant to.

  ‘All right, gel. Calm yerself. It won’t kill ’er, bein’ stood up by a bloke. All part of growin’ up.’

  ‘But, Bill, you of all people should know that Jack ain’t like that.’ Rose held her hand up to her face, shielding herself from a piece of wood that spat from the fire. ‘’E’s a good ‘un, reliable. Wouldn’t let no one down. It’s obvious that’s somethin’s ’appened to ’im.’

  ‘Prob’ly just scared ’imself. Realised ’e was gettin’ in a bit deep per’aps? Bit too serious too quick?’

  ‘No, Bill, yer don’t understand. ’E was serious. Yer never saw ’ow ’e was moonin’ about. An’ ’e was definitely comin’ down with the boys to see ’er. ’E was right taken with Jess.’

  ‘Yer worryin’ yerself over nothin’, Rose. ’E’ll ’ave found somethin’ better to do. Yer know what young fellers are like.’ Bill looked down at her sitting by his side on the grass. ‘Or maybe ’e was barmy enough to think he could find a gel prettier than a Fairleigh.’ He kissed Rose tenderly on the cheek.

  ‘I think there’s more to it than that, Bill,’ said Rose, looking up into his eyes. ‘It’s no good, I’ve gotta talk to yer about it. I’m that worried. I’m sure that our Charlie…’

  ‘Look, Rose, can’t yer forget the kids for now, eh? Just this once? Come on, gel, give yer old man a cuddle. I ain’t seen yer for months.’

  * * *

  The landlord of the Hop Bine finally managed to persuade the Londoners that he was closing the pub and that they should all get back to the farm.

  ‘Goodnight, everyone,’ he called as he shut the front doors. ‘I’ll be open again in the morning.’

  As soon as they had left, he unlocked a narrow door at the back of the bar and welcomed in the locals who had spent the evening drinking in his kitchen.

  ‘You can all come in now. The riffraff have gone, you’ll be pleased to hear.’

  ‘’Bout time as well,’ complained Theo, rubbing the back of his hand across his narrow lips. ‘It’s bad enough having to spend the day working near them without being kept out of the pub by the foreign scum.’

  ‘Calm down, Theo,’ grinned the landlord. ‘Here, have this one on me.’ He handed the sour-faced man a foaming tankard of beer.

  ‘It’s all right for you,’ said the measurer, snatching the free pint with no attempt at thanks. ‘You earns plenty of money out of them.’

  ‘I certainly wouldn’t be mixing with them otherwise, now would I, Theo?’ said the landlord, outraged at the very idea that he would welcome such people for motives other than profit.

  Oblivious to the hatred they inspired back in the pub, the ‘foreigners’ were making their way happily back to Worlington Hall Farm.

  ‘Come on, Joey, give us a tune to ’elp us on our way,’ came a shout from the rear of the wavering column of people winding its unsteady way along the pitch-dark country lane. It was Wally Baxter, chancing life and limb by having a good time.

  It was well known that Florrie Baxter wasn’t usually too keen, to say the least, on public displays of pleasure where her Wally was concerned, but unaccountably she had decided to join in the spirit of the thing – she hadn’t even mentioned Jack’s absence for at least a quarter of an hour. ‘Yeh, Joe,’ she giggled girlishly. ‘Give us a song.’

  Joey Fuller, who had been hired by the menfolk of Burton Street to drive them to Kent in his cart, produced his tin whistle from his jacket and began to play.

  ‘’Ere, Ted, Ted,’ slurred Sam, digging his brother in the ribs with his elbow. ‘Get out yer Jew’s ’arp an’ play along with ’im.’

  Ted gave his brother a lopsided drunken grin for an answer and attempted to produce the instrument from the depths of his trouser pocket. ‘S lost, Sam,’ he said.

  ‘S lost? Can’t be. ’Ere, let me look for yer.’ Sam began rifling ineffectually through his brother’s tatty garments.

  ‘Yer disgustin’, the pair of yer. Look at yerselves, gettin’ drunk,’ snapped Jess tearfully from further along the lane. ‘Serve yer right if yer get left behind. Yer’ll never find yer way in the dark an’ the grey lady’ll get yer. Good job an’ all.’

  ‘She’s got the ’ump,’ said a woman’s voice close to Jess. ‘Been mopin’ all night, she ’as.’

  ‘What d’yer expect? She’s been let down by that Jack Barnes, yer know,’ answered another voice, which sounded very like Florrie Baxter back to her old form.

  ‘Blimey, I thought they was in love an’ all,’ laughed the first voice.

  Jess closed her eyes and cringed with shame, wishing she could crawl away into a ditch and hide from them all. Why had Jack done it to her? He hadn’t even bothered to send her a message. And in front of everyone. She’d really thought he’d cared for her. She’d believed him.

  ‘’E’s lost it, Jess,’ persisted Sam, ‘an I’ve gotta ’elp me little brother look for it, ain’t I? I gotta…’

  Jess didn’t hear the last few words as Sam had managed to trip himself over and fall sideways into the hedge, pulling Ted down on top of him.

  ‘Yer a disgrace, both of yer,’ she sobbed at her sniggering brothers. ‘Now get out of there before I go an’ fetch Dad and let ’im sort yer out.’

  ‘Don’t be rotten, Jess,’ chuckled Ted as he tried unsuccessfully to clamber to his feet. ‘It ain’t our fault Jacko’s let yer down.’

  ‘Shut up, Ted. Why don’t yer just shut up?’ Jess shouted through her tears. ‘I don’t care if I never see that no-good bugger Jack Barnes again. An’ I don’t care ’oo knows it neither.’

  ‘’Ark at ’er,’ said someone disdainfully. ‘Little Miss Perfect’s lost ’er temper.’

  All the Londoners, even the stragglers of the group, eventually arrived back at the huts. Some called their goodnights, others threw another faggot on their fire and sat around the bright flames, reminiscing, singing and laughing.

  ‘Go an’ ask Mum an’ Dad if they wanna cuppa tea,’ said
Jess icily to Ted as she hung the kettle on the prop over the flames. ‘No, wait, I’d better go. The state yer in yer’ll probably go in the wrong ’ut by mistake.’ She shoved Ted unceremoniously out of her way. ‘I’d ’ate to think what Florrie’d do to yer if yer caught ’er in ’er drawers. Mind yer it might teach yer not to get drunk again, yer little fool.’

  ‘Shall I bring yer a cuppa tea?’ whispered Jess from the doorway of the hut, in case her parents were asleep.

  ‘We’ll come outside with yer, love,’ said Bill. ‘Come on, Rosie, let’s go an’ cheer our girly up a bit.’

  Jess swallowed hard; her father’s kindness seemed to make her feel worse, guilty that she was spoiling his leave.

  He stepped out of the hut and smiled at her, his lovely, wide smile, with his little moustache all neat and trimmed. Jess looked up at him and decided she would stop crying and that was that. Jack Barnes might have done a runner, but that was too bad. If he didn’t want her, then there was nothing she could do about it, she’d have to get used to it. She wasn’t going to have Jack Barnes upsetting her or her family any more. Her dad was home from sea and they would all be happy together.

  Rose and Bill sat with their children by the fire.

  ‘Do yer remember ’ow when I come ’ome yer used to sit on me knee an’ look into the flames, Jess?’ said her father. ‘When yer was little yer used to say, “Tell us them stories about ghosts an’ witches.” Used to love being scared, yer did.’ He ran a calloused hand over her thick auburn hair, watching how the flickering light made it glow. ‘An’ just look at yer now. Me little gel’s turned into a real beauty. Too old for fairy tales, I suppose?’

  ‘I’ll never be too old to listen to yer stories, Dad,’ said Jess.

  ‘Well then, we’ll ’ave a story, shall we? The scariest one I can think of. Cuddle up, you lot.’ Rose and Jess made themselves comfortable on either side of Bill, resting against his strong seaman’s body. Where’s the boys got to?’

  ‘Sam’s fell asleep on the grass, Dad, but I’m ’ere,’ said Ted from the shadows. ‘Can I tell a story? It’s a real good ’un.’ He sat down, squeezing in between Jess and his father, like he used to do when he was little. ‘Right scary it is. An’ it’s true an’ all.’