by Kitty Neale
She wondered if he had gone off her, especially as there had been such a passionate attraction when they’d first met. She’d asked him but he’d told her she was being silly and reassured her how much he still fancied her.
Now, as she paced the floor, she caught sight of her reflection in the mirror. Her wounds had healed well, and she felt back to her old self. She leaned in closer to the mirror and pouted. I could have been a pin-up girl, she thought to herself as she admired her full lips and high cheekbones. Her red hair made her stand out, just like Rita Hayworth. She placed her hands on her hips and wriggled from side to side. Yes, she was just as attractive as all the film stars she saw on the silver screen night after night, and had a curvaceous figure that caught the attention of men. The difference was, unlike the women who lived the glamorous Hollywood lives that she so badly wanted, she was stuck in an almost frigid relationship, in a filthy bedsit, with no family and just one friend. She swung her hips some more then tutted.
Tommy giggled. ‘What are you doing?’ he asked.
He’d been so quiet, she’d forgotten he was there. ‘Just being silly. Don’t you ever imagine you’re someone else?’
‘Sometimes I think I’m one of Peter Pan’s lost boys, or sometimes me and Larry play cowboys and Indians. Who was you pretending to be?’
‘A beautiful film star. A girl can dream.’
‘I think you’re bootiful, Mo. Not as bootiful as my sister – well, maybe nearly.’
Mo laughed, Tommy was such a sweet child and it was obvious he adored Sarah. Despite the pleasure she took in looking after him for her friend, that was as much as she wanted. Samuel had talked about having a large family, five kids or more, but Mo hadn’t told him she’d decided a long time ago that she wasn’t the mothering sort, and babies were off her agenda. After all, she didn’t want an expanding waistline to ruin her hourglass figure.
‘Look, Mo, I’ve finished. Do you think Sarah will like it?’ Tommy held up his painting.
Mo thought it looked like a load of coloured blobs, but said, ‘It’s really good, Tommy, and I’m sure your sister will love it.’
‘Yeah, I bet she will,’ Tommy agreed happily.
Mo took out her compact and studied her face in the mirror. She knew that she was better-looking than Sarah and patted her wavy hair. She took great pride in her appearance and always liked to look her best. She loved Samuel, or at least she believed she did, but a girl’s gotta keep up her standards, she thought, because you never know who you might meet.
George saw Sarah walking towards him. He was pleasantly surprised as he hadn’t expected to see her again until after her mother’s funeral. As she approached he studied her face to gauge her mood. He thought she looked worried, and as he saw her eyes flitting around the market he wondered why she seemed so nervous.
‘Hello, Sarah. You all right?’ he asked, noting how she kept looking over her shoulder.
‘Hello, George. Yes, I’m fine thanks. I … I … erm … I’ve got this ring … Can you sell it for me?’ Sarah pulled the ring from her coat pocket and held it out, but she kept her hand close to her body and was still flicking her eyes all over the place.
George got the impression she was trying to hide something. ‘Blimey, that looks a bit special. Did you find it down on the banks again?’
‘Yes … yes, of course I did,’ Sarah snapped.
‘I tell you what, girl, you ain’t half bleedin’ lucky with all that gear you find. Some poor bugger’s loss, but your gain. Are you still interested in working with my mum, or are you going to stick to treasure hunting? You’re bloody good at it!’
‘What’s with all the questions? Can you sell the ring or not?’
George stepped back, shocked at how sharply she’d spoken to him. ‘Sorry, I was only being friendly. Pardon me for breathing. Yes, of course I can try to sell it for you.’
Sarah stuffed the ring back into her pocket. ‘On second thoughts, forget it,’ she said, then spun around and marched off.
George blinked as he tried to understand what had just happened. If he’d offended her, he certainly hadn’t meant to. He gave chase, and called to Sarah, but she continued to storm on ahead.
Once he finally caught up with her, he pulled on her arm. ‘Hey, Sarah, wait up. Sorry, love, if I said something to upset you. Look, come back to my stall and we’ll see about getting this ring sold for you.’
Sarah stared wide-eyed at George, then lowered her head, and her shoulders beginning to shake.
‘Hey, come on, what’s wrong?’ George asked as he saw big tears rolling down her cheeks.
‘Oh, George … I’m such a horrible person,’ she cried.
‘Don’t be daft, you’re lovely. Look, there’s a little café over there. Let me buy you a cuppa and you can tell me all about what’s troubling you.’
Sarah nodded and allowed George to gently lead her towards the café. Once she was seated, he dashed to the toilet and came back with some paper for her to dry her eyes and blow her nose. Then he ordered two cups of tea and a couple of Eccles cakes, and sat himself opposite her, asking, ‘Are you going to tell me what’s wrong? I don’t like to see you upset like this.’ He thought she was probably distressed about her mother’s recent death.
‘I’ve done something terrible …’ Sarah answered quietly as she gazed into her cup of tea.
‘I bet it ain’t as bad as you think,’ George offered with a warm smile, though she didn’t look up to see it. He wanted to reach out across the table and hold her hand, but he guessed she’d probably yank it away.
‘It is, George. I’ve let a friend down. Because of my own selfishness, I’ve let her go off like a lamb to the slaughter … I could have helped, but I turned my back ’cos I thought … well, I don’t know what I thought … but I’ve done it, and now I regret it.’
‘This all sounds like a bit of a riddle to me. Start at the beginning and tell me exactly what happened.’
‘The ring … it’s stolen,’ Sarah said, and lifted her eyes to meet his.
George tried his best not to look astonished, but blurted out, ‘What, you stole it?’
‘No, no, I found it, but I know it’s been stolen and I know who it belongs to.’
‘Sarah, I’m normally a good judge of character, and you seem like an honest person to me. Don’t upset yourself, love, you didn’t ’alf-inch it, you found it. That makes it yours.’
‘But I should return it to its rightful owner, otherwise I’m just as bad as the person who did steal it.’
‘Depends how you look at it. In my book you’ve just been fortunate. Did you go looking for the ring knowing it was stolen and who it belonged to?’
Sarah shook her head. ‘No, I was just down on the banks again and came across it. It wasn’t until after I found it that I bumped into my friend and she told me about the lady she cleans for who has this son who’s been nicking her stuff. He wants my mate blamed for stealing it and for her to get the sack ’cos she turned him down. It was the watch. She told me about the watch. You know it was marked A. S. The lady’s name is Alderton-Steele. Now do you see? This ring must belong to her too.’
George rubbed his forehead and sighed deeply as he tried get a grasp on Sarah’s story. ‘So, what you’re telling me is you know who the watch belongs to, and that this woman’s son must have lobbed it into the Thames?’
Sarah nodded, her eyes still wet with tears as George continued, ‘Yeah, well, it’s too late to do anything about it ’cos you’ve sold it. Your friend never mentioned the ring, though, did she, so how do you know it belongs to this Steele woman?’
‘Well … I don’t. I’m just assuming it does, and the bracelet, ’cos according to my friend, this bloke Godfrey has pinched a few items from his mother. It’s got to be hers, hasn’t it?’
George thought quickly. He was in possession of the bracelet and the watch. If the items had been reported to the police as stolen and they found he had them, he’d likely get charged with receiving
. He thought it was a good job he hadn’t tried to sell them on and they were safely tucked away in his wardrobe. He’d have to convince Sarah to give him the ring too. At least then he could protect her from the long arm of the law. He knew she was innocent but he doubted the courts would believe her. ‘I suppose it could belong to her, but you don’t know that for definite. It could just as likely have belonged to some woman who lost it years ago in Windsor or somewhere, and it got washed up where you found it. I think you’re beating yourself up needlessly. You found the ring, it’s yours, job done.’
‘Oh, George, I wish I could see it in black and white like you. I know what you’re saying is a possibility, but in my heart I know who this ring belongs to, and ’cos I’m desperate for the money, I chose to lower myself. I ain’t done the right thing, and now it’s probably too late.’
‘Give me the ring, Sarah. What’s done is done, and you’re worrying about it too much. I’ll buy it off you now for …’ George rummaged in his money belt and slapped several coins on the table. ‘There’s about three quid there. It ain’t much compared to what the ring is worth, but it’ll see you over ’til you get the job with my mum. And before you say another word, this ain’t me doing you no favours. I can sell that ring on for a lot more than three quid, so there’ll be a tidy profit in it for me.’
‘You really think this is OK? You don’t think I should take it back to Mrs Alderton-Steele?’
‘No, you definitely shouldn’t take it back! Think about it, Sarah. Do you really reckon she’ll believe you weren’t somehow involved in the robbery? It ain’t worth risking it, not for a few quid and a poxy ring.’ George sounded more forceful than he wanted to, but he had to convince her.
He was pleased when, without saying a word, Sarah slid the ring across the table towards him, then scooped up the cash.
‘Good girl. Now, we won’t ever mention this again, and you stay away from that blinkin’ river, OK?’
Sarah nodded, but George wouldn’t be satisfied until he’d seen a smile on her beautiful face. ‘What do you reckon to these Eccles cakes? They taste good but I have to close my eyes when I eat them.’
‘Why?’ Sarah asked.
‘It’s these currants … they look like dead flies.’
At last, Sarah’s lips turned up and her eyes creased in the corners.
‘Thanks for telling me that, George. Now I’ll have to close my eyes too,’ she said, but smiled as she picked up her cake.
George was pleased to see that Sarah looked happier. She’d been beating herself up, feeling guilty, and that endeared her to him even more. It proved she had a conscience, and he had no worries about recommending her to his mum for a job in the corner shop. She’d be safe there, with no more foraging on the banks of the Thames. Her days of being a mudlark would be well and truly over.
Chapter 18
On the day of her mother’s funeral, Sarah wore the black outfit she’d bought from George. She wasn’t surprised when nobody turned up to bury her mother. Annie had made more enemies than friends, but Sarah had thought that at least Eddy might have put in an appearance. As it turned out, she stood alone at the side of the shared grave to see her mum off.
She laid a bunch of wild flowers on the ground. It was a poignant reminder of her struggle to provide for Tommy when she’d sold hand-picked flowers in the High Street. She shouldn’t have been put in the position of having to leave school and look after Tommy. It was something her mother should have done. However, she no longer resented her, and in some ways she felt sorry for her. Sarah understood how difficult life could be with no money and the responsibility of a child. She could see why her mother had prostituted herself.
Yet despite that, there was no need for the abuse, and instead of feeling loved, Sarah had only ever felt unwanted. Her mother had declared her love for her on her deathbed, but it had been too late, and Sarah wondered if her mother had really ever loved her or was just easing her conscience as a dying woman. With one last look at the pauper’s grave, Sarah whispered, ‘Bye, Mum,’ and without shedding a tear she walked away.
Samuel was forever bringing home old newspapers, magazines and books that commuters had left behind on the trains. As Mo sat on her sofa and turned the page of yesterday’s broadsheet, she huffed in frustration, then threw the paper to her side. She struggled to read and she found the pictures all very boring.
Tommy was outside playing with Larry, but Sarah would be home soon and offer some respite from the tedium. She just hoped her friend wouldn’t return full of pity and woe, though she’d appeared to be fine when she’d left.
Mo crossed her legs and drummed her fingers. She could bake a cake, that would pass some time, but she’d painted her nails earlier and didn’t want to chip the varnish. She stood up and walked around the pristine room. Samuel had left the rent money in an empty fruit bowl that sat on a small table which had two chairs tucked neatly underneath. It was due today so she was expecting Mr Terence to call any time soon. She considered putting the kettle on and offering the man a cup of tea, but he didn’t seem the friendly sort and she didn’t want him getting the wrong idea. Still, anything was better than going out of her head with the monotony.
She heard the front door close, then footsteps coming up the stairs. The steps were too light and quick to belong to Mr Terence, so Sarah must have come home earlier than she’d expected.
Mo eagerly rushed to the door to greet her friend and was pleased to see a smile on Sarah’s face. ‘How did it go?’ she asked, though in truth she didn’t really care and hoped Sarah wouldn’t relay all the depressing details.
‘Just as I thought it would. There wasn’t anyone else there except me, and in a way it was good,’ Sarah replied as she took off her coat and moved the newspaper before sitting on the sofa.
‘How do you mean, good?’ Mo asked.
‘Well, it gave me time to think. My mum’s gone now, and I’m ready to build a new future for me and Tommy, but there’s just one thing I have to do first, and I don’t think I’ll be able to get on properly with my life until I’ve done it … I’m going to find my dad.’
Mo handed Sarah a cup of tea, then pulled out one of the chairs from under the table before sitting down. ‘You’ve just lost your mum, so I can understand that you probably feel very alone, but are you sure that’s a good idea? I mean, you said your mum sounded pretty adamant that he hadn’t wanted you.’
‘Yes, I know, but it was such a long time ago. I can’t shake him from my head. Every night I lie in bed and try to imagine what he’s like. I won’t rest until I know the truth for myself.’
‘You’ve got to do what feels right for you, but just watch your step. For all you know, he could be a right bastard like my old man.’
‘Yeah, I know he could, but on the other hand he might not be,’ Sarah replied positively.
Mo sipped her hot tea. ‘That Mr Terence will be here any minute now. What did you think of him?’
‘I’ve never met him. He wasn’t around when I came to look at my room. Mrs Preston showed it to me and she was a right snooty cow!’
‘Oooh, I say, you are honoured. Mrs P don’t show her face often, not round here. You’re right though, she is proper stuck up but it’s all fur coat and no knickers with her.’
Sarah spluttered on her tea. ‘What do you mean, fur coat and no knickers?’
‘She thinks she’s a cut above the rest of us, but she’s nothing special. My gran knew her from years back when they were neighbours. Mrs Preston, or Connie Spittal as she was known then, grew up in a two-up two-down with an outside lavvy just like the rest of us. Connie had a sister called Edna and together they were known as phlegm and gob, the Spittal sisters.’
Sarah spluttered with laughter.
‘Yeah, funny, ain’t it?’ Mo said, grinning. ‘Anyway, from what my gran said, God rest her soul, Edna went on to marry a milkman and had loads of kids, but Connie had ideas above herself. She’d tell my gran, if you’re going to fall in love, i
t may as well be with a rich man rather than a poor one. So, that’s what she did. My gran said you could hear everything through those walls, and Connie was always getting in bother with her dad for pinching the rent money and buying herself fancy clothes to wear up town. Eventually, the rent arrears mounted up and the family got thrown out. My gran lost touch with Connie then, but she said a few years later she bumped into her again and hardly recognised her. She was talking all posh and boasting about some property tycoon she’d married who was forty-five years older than her and would pop his clogs soon. That’s how she did it, you know, got rich. He died and she was left with everything, which included a couple of dozen houses, a few of which are here in Battersea. She’s what you would call a gold digger.’
‘I never would have guessed, and to think she looked down her nose at me!’ Sarah said. ‘At least I’m going to be working for what’s mine.’
‘And that’s not all,’ Mo continued. ‘With all that money, she never once helped her family out. I heard Edna died a terrible death in pain ’cos they couldn’t afford the doctor. She was good enough to house her parents, but charged them rent.’
‘But that’s awful,’ Sarah exclaimed.
‘I know, and now she lives in a bloody huge house near Victoria, but the only visitors she ever gets are a load of stray cats. Mr Terence worked for her husband, and she’s got a driver and a cleaner, but they say she wanders around the house at night counting her money then hiding it again. She’s obsessed with it. Rumour has it that she’s got money sewn in the curtain hems, the mattress, stuffed in saucepans and even in the toilet cisterns.’
‘See, money can’t buy you happiness,’ Sarah said.
‘No, it can’t,’ Mo replied, ‘but it can help make being sad a whole lot easier.’