Since winning the Catherine Cookson Prize for Fiction for her first novel, The Hungry Tide, Val Wood has become one of the most popular authors in the UK.
Born in the mining town of Castleford, Val came to East Yorkshire as a child and has lived in Hull and rural Holderness where many of her novels are set. She now lives in the market town of Beverley.
When she is not writing, Val is busy promoting libraries and supporting many charities. In 2017 she was awarded an honorary doctorate by the University of Hull for service and dedication to literature.
Find out more about Val Wood’s novels by visiting her website: www.valwood.co.uk
Have you read all of Val Wood’s novels?
The Hungry Tide
The Hungry Tide
Sarah Foster’s parents fight a constant battle with poverty – until wealthy John Rayner provides them with work and a home on the coast. But when he falls for their daughter, Sarah, can their love overcome the gulf of wealth and social standing dividing them?
Sarah Foster’s parents fight a constant battle with poverty – until wealthy John Rayner provides them with work and a home on the coast. But when he falls for their daughter, Sarah, can their love overcome the gulf of wealth and social standing dividing them?
Annie
Annie
Annie Swinburn has killed a man. The man was evil in every possible way, but she knows that her only fate if she stays in Hull is a hanging. So she runs as far away as she can – to a new life that could offer her the chance of love, in spite of the tragedy that has gone before . . .
Annie Swinburn has killed a man. The man was evil in every possible way, but she knows that her only fate if she stays in Hull is a hanging. So she runs as far away as she can – to a new life that could offer her the chance of love, in spite of the tragedy that has gone before . . .
Children of the Tide
Children of the Tide
A tired woman holding a baby knocks at the door of one of the big houses in Anlaby. She shoves the baby at young James Rayner, then she vanishes. The Rayner family is shattered – born into poverty, will a baby unite or divide the family?
A tired woman holding a baby knocks at the door of one of the big houses in Anlaby. She shoves the baby at young James Rayner, then she vanishes. The Rayner family is shattered – born into poverty, will a baby unite or divide the family?
The Gypsy Girl
The Gypsy Girl
Polly Anna’s mother died when she was just three years old. Alone in the world, the workhouse was the only place for her. But with the help of a young misfit she manages to escape, running away with the fairground folk. But will Polly Anna ever find somewhere she truly belongs?
Emily
Polly Anna’s mother died when she was just three years old. Alone in the world, the workhouse was the only place for her. But with the help of a young misfit she manages to escape, running away with the fairground folk. But will Polly Anna ever find somewhere she truly belongs?
Emily
A loving and hard-working child, Emily goes into service at just twelve years old. But when an employer’s son dishonours and betrays her, her fortunes seem to be at their lowest ebb. Can she journey from shame and imprisonment to a new life and fulfilment?
Going Home
A loving and hard-working child, Emily goes into service at just twelve years old. But when an employer’s son dishonours and betrays her, her fortunes seem to be at their lowest ebb. Can she journey from shame and imprisonment to a new life and fulfilment?
Going Home
For Amelia and her siblings, the grim past their mother Emily endured seems far away. But when a gentleman travels from Australia to meet Amelia’s family, she discovers the past casts a long shadow and that her tangled family history is inextricably bound up with his . . .
Rosa’s Island
For Amelia and her siblings, the grim past their mother Emily endured seems far away. But when a gentleman travels from Australia to meet Amelia’s family, she discovers the past casts a long shadow and that her tangled family history is inextricably bound up with his . . .
Rosa’s Island
Taken in as a child, orphaned Rosa grew up on an island off the coast of Yorkshire. Her mother, before she died, promised that one day Rosa’s father would return. But when two mysterious Irishmen come back to the island after many years, they threaten everything Rosa holds dear . . .
The Doorstep Girls
Taken in as a child, orphaned Rosa grew up on an island off the coast of Yorkshire. Her mother, before she died, promised that one day Rosa’s father would return. But when two mysterious Irishmen come back to the island after many years, they threaten everything Rosa holds dear . . .
The Doorstep Girls
Ruby and Grace have grown up in the poorest slums of Hull. Friends since childhood, they have supported each other in bad times and good. As times grow harder, and money scarcer, the girls search for something that could take them far away . . . But what price will they pay to find it?
Far From Home
Ruby and Grace have grown up in the poorest slums of Hull. Friends since childhood, they have supported each other in bad times and good. As times grow harder, and money scarcer, the girls search for something that could take them far away . . . But what price will they pay to find it?
Far From Home
When Georgiana Gregory makes the long journey from Hull for New York, she hopes to escape the confines of English life. But once there, Georgiana finds she isn’t far from home when she encounters a man she knows – who presents dangers almost too much to cope with . . .
When Georgiana Gregory makes the long journey from Hull for New York, she hopes to escape the confines of English life. But once there, Georgiana finds she isn’t far from home when she encounters a man she knows – who presents dangers almost too much to cope with . . .
The Kitchen Maid
Jenny secures a job as kitchen maid in a grand house in Beverley – but her fortunes fail when scandal forces her to leave. Years later, she is mistress of a hall, but she never forgets the words a gypsy told her: that one day she will return to where she was happy and find her true love . . .
The Songbird
Poppy Mazzini has an ambition – to go on the stage. Her lovely voice and Italian looks lead her to great acclaim. But when her first love from her home town of Hull becomes engaged to someone else, she is devastated. Will Poppy have to choose between fame and true love?
Nobody’s Child
Now a prosperous Hull businesswoman, Susannah grew up with the terrible stigma of being nobody’s child. When daughter Laura returns to the Holderness village of her mother’s childhood, she will discover a story of poverty, heartbreak and a love that never dies . . .
Fallen Angels
After her dastardly husband tries to sell her, Lily Fowler is alone on the streets of Hull. Forced to work in a brothel, she forges friendships with the women there, and together they try to turn their lives around. Can they dare to dream of happy endings?
The Long Walk Home
When Mikey Quinn’s mother dies, he is determined to find a better life for his family – so he walks to London from Hull to seek his fortune. He meets Eleanor, and they gradually make a new life for themselves. Eventually, though, they must make the long walk home to Hull . . .
Rich Girl, Poor Girl
Polly, living in poverty, finds herself alone when her mother dies. Rosalie, brought up in comfort on the other side of Hull, loses her own mother on the same day. When Polly takes a job in Rosalie’s house, the two girls form an unlikely friendship. United in tragedy, can they find happiness?
Homecoming Girls
The mysterious Jewel Newmarch turns heads wherever she goes, but she feels a longing to know her own roots. So she decides to return to her birthplace in America, where she learns about family, friendship and home. But most importantly, love . . .
The Harbour Girl
Jeannie spends her days at the water’s edge waiting for Ethan to come in from fishing. But then she falls for a handsome stranger. When he breaks his word, Jeannie finds herself pregnant and alone in a strange new town. Will she find someone to truly love her – and will Ethan ever forgive her?
The Innkeeper’s Daughter
Bella’s dreams of teaching are dashed when she has to take on the role of mother to her baby brother. Her days are brightened by visits from Jamie Lucan – but when the family is forced to move to Hull, Bella is forced to leave everything behind. Can she ever find her dreams again?
His Brother’s Wife
The last thing Harriet expects after her mother dies is to marry a man she barely knows, but her only alternative is the workhouse. And so begins an unhappy marriage to Noah Tuke. The only person who offers her friendship is Noah’s brother, Fletcher – the one person she can’t possibly be with . . .
Every Mother’s Son
Every Mother’s Son
Daniel Tuke hopes to share his future with childhood friend Beatrice Hart. But his efforts to find out more about his heritage throw up some shocking truths: is there a connection between the families? Meanwhile, Daniel’s mother Harriet could never imagine that discoveries about her own family are also on the horizon . . .
Daniel Tuke hopes to share his future with childhood friend Beatrice Hart. But his efforts to find out more about his heritage throw up some shocking truths: is there a connection between the families? Meanwhile, Daniel’s mother Harriet could never imagine that discoveries about her own family are also on the horizon . . .
Little Girl Lost
Little Girl Lost
Little Girl Lost
Margriet grew up as a lonely child in the old town of Hull. As she grows into adulthood she forms an unlikely friendship with some of the street children who roam the town. As Margriet acts upon her inspiration to help them, will the troubles of her past break her spirit, or will she be able to overcome them?
Margriet grew up as a lonely child in the old town of Hull. As she grows into adulthood she forms an unlikely friendship with some of the street children who roam the town. As Margriet acts upon her inspiration to help them, will the troubles of her past break her spirit, or will she be able to overcome them?
Margriet grew up as a lonely child in the old town of Hull. As she grows into adulthood she is keen to make a difference in the world and forms an unlikely friendship with some of the street children who roam the town. As Margriet begins to help them, will the troubles of her past break her spirit, or will she finally overcome them?
No Place for a Woman
No Place for a Woman
Brought up by a kindly uncle after the death of her parents, Lucy grows up inspired to become a doctor, just like her father. But studying in London takes Lucy far from her home in Hull, and she has to battle to be accepted in a man’s world. Will Lucy be able to follow her dreams – and find love – in a world shattered by war?
Brought up by a kindly uncle after the death of her parents, Lucy grows up inspired to become a doctor, just like her father. But studying in London takes Lucy far from her home in Hull, and she has to battle to be accepted in a man’s world. Will Lucy be able to follow her dreams – and find love – in a world shattered by war?
A Mother’s Choice
A Mother’s Choice
Delia has always had to fend for herself and her son Jack, and as a young unmarried mother, life has never been easy. In particularly desperate times, a chance encounter presents a lifeline. Delia is faced with an impossible, heart-wrenching choice. Can she bear to leave her young son behind, hoping another family will care for him?
Delia has always had to fend for herself and her son Jack, and as a young unmarried mother, life has never been easy. In particularly desperate times, a chance encounter presents a lifeline. Delia is faced with an impossible, heart-wrenching choice. Can she bear to leave her young son behind, hoping another family will care for him?
A Place to Call Home
A Place to Call Home
When Ellen’s husband Harry loses his farm job and the cottage that comes with it, he sets out to find a job in the factories and mills of nearby Hull, and Ellen must build a new life for her family on the unfamiliar city streets. But when tragedy threatens Ellen’s fragile happiness, how much more can she sacrifice before they find a place to call home?
When Ellen’s husband Harry loses his farm job and the cottage that comes with it, he sets out to find a job in the factories and mills of nearby Hull, and Ellen must build a new life for her family on the unfamiliar city streets. But when tragedy threatens Ellen’s fragile happiness, how much more can she sacrifice before they find a place to call home?
Four Sisters
Four Sisters
With their mother dead, four sisters and their father form a close bond. But when tragedy suddenly strikes and their father disappears on his way to London, the sisters have no way of knowing what has happened to him – only that he hasn’t returned home. With little money left, they’re now forced to battle life’s misfortunes alone . . .
With their mother dead, four sisters and their father form a close bond. But when tragedy suddenly strikes and their father disappears on his way to London, the sisters have no way of knowing what has happened to him – only that he hasn’t returned home. With little money left, they’re now forced to battle life’s misfortunes alone . . .
The Lonely Wife
The Lonely Wife
Beatrix is just eighteen when her father tells her she is to marry a stranger – a man named Charles, who shows little interest in her. Soon, the only spark in Beatrix’s lonely life is her beloved children. But then Charles threatens to take them away. Can Beatrix fight against her circumstances and keep what is rightfully hers?
Beatrix is just eighteen when her father tells her she is to marry a stranger – a man named Charles, who shows little interest in her. Soon, the only spark in Beatrix’s lonely life is her beloved children. But then Charles threatens to take them away. Can Beatrix fight against her circumstances and keep what is rightfully hers?
Children of Fortune
Children of Fortune
Following the untimely death of her cold-hearted husband, Beatrix and her three children are finally free. When her headstrong and independent daughter, Alicia, befriends the enigmatic Olivia Snowdon at school, they quickly become inseparable. But Olivia’s past is shrouded in mystery and as the two families grow closer, secrets start to come tumbling out . . .
Following the untimely death of her cold-hearted husband, Beatrix and her three children are finally free. When her headstrong and independent daughter, Alicia, befriends the enigmatic Olivia Snowdon at school, they quickly become inseparable. But Olivia’s past is shrouded in mystery and as the two families grow closer, secrets start to come tumbling out . . .
Winter’s Daughter
James Ripley and his wife have always looked out for the poor of Hull. When a popular shelter for the homeless floods, they rush to help. Among those rescued is a little girl who speaks a language no one can understand. Some say she arrived with her mother, but where is the mother now? And what can be done to help the homeless who have lost the only shelter they knew?
PENGUIN BOOK STRANSWORLD PUBLISHERS
Penguin Random House, One Embassy Gardens, 8 Viaduct Gardens, London SW11 7BW www.penguin.co.uk
Transworld is part of the Penguin Random House group of companies whose addresses can be found at global.penguinrandomhouse.com
First published in Great Britain in 2002 by Bantam Press an imprint of Transworld Publishers Corgi edition published 2003 Corgi edition reissued 2014 Penguin paperback edition reissued 2024
Copyright © Valerie Wood 2002
Valerie Wood has asserted her right under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988 to be identified as the author of this work.
This book is a work of fiction and, except in the case of historical fact, any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.
ISBN 9781804994726
Typeset in New Baskerville by Kestrel Data, Exeter, Devon. Printed and bound in Great Britain by Clays Ltd, Elcograf S.p.A.
The authorized representative in the EEA is Penguin Random House Ireland, Morrison Chambers, 32 Nassau Street, Dublin D02 YH68.
Penguin Random House is committed to a sustainable future for our business, our readers and our planet. This book is made from Forest Stewardship Council® certified paper.
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
Booksforgeneralreading:
ConfessionsofanEnglishOpiumEater ,ThomasDe Quincey,1822.
HistoryoftheTownandPortofHull ,JamesJoseph Sheehan,1866.
VictorianWomen,JoanPerkin,1993.JohnMurrayLtd.
LivingandDying:apictureofHullintheNineteenth Century,BernardFoster.
MythankstoCatherineforreadingthemanuscriptandtoPeterandRuthfortheirsupportand encouragement.
CHAPTERONE
Thetwogirlssatsidebysideonthedoorstep, theirkneesdrawnupandchinsrestingin theirhands.Theybothstaredvacantlyintospace withoutspeaking.Itwasmidsummerin 1848 , andthedankandnarrowcourtwashumid andsticky.Itstankofputriddecay,sewage,and ofseedoilandblubberdriftinginfromthe millssituatedclosebyalongtheriverHull.The groundbeneaththeirbarefeetwasunpavedand muddyyettheychosetositoutsideonthestone slab,withtheircottonskirtstuckedunderthem, ratherthanbeindoors;theyhadbothbeen insidemillwallssincesixo’clockthatmorning anditwasnowseveno’clockintheevening.
‘I’mhungry,’Rubymuttered.‘I’vehadnowtto eatsincethismorningandthatwasonnyabito’ bread.’Herfacewaspinchedandwhite,and mademorecolourlessbythecontrastofherdark hair,whichstrayedfrombeneathhercottoncap andacrossherforehead.
‘Didyoutakenodinnertowork?’Graceasked, andwhenRubyshookherhead,saidanxiously, ‘ShallIaskMaifshe’sgotanybrothtospare?’
Sheknewthatalthoughtherewaslittlefoodin herownhouse,therewouldbenoneatallat Ruby’s.
Theybothlookedupandturnedtheirheadsas theyheardarumbleofcartwheelscomingdown thenarrowalleyintothecourt.‘Who’sthisthen?’ Gracemurmured.
‘Dunno,butthey’llhaveajobgettingthatcart downhere,’Rubysaidasawoodencart,piled highwithoddpiecesoffurniture,cameintoview andscrapedagainstthewallsofthealleyinan attempttopushitselfthrough.‘Watchoutfor thatbrickwork,’shecalledout.‘You’llhave’landlordafteryouifyoudamageit.’
Theyheardasnortofderisionandtheyboth laughedas,withagrindingandgrating,thecart wassentwithaviolentshoveintothecourt.A manandayouthofabouteighteenmanhandled thecontentsinavaliantattempttokeepthe furniture,atable,threechairsandapendulum clock,fromcrashingtotheground.Awoman walkingbehindthecartscreechedatthemtobe carefulandalthoughthemanglaredatRubyand Graceasifitwastheirfaultthatthefurniture wasfalling,theyouthwinkedandsmiled,and thetwogirlsturnedtoeachotherandraised theireyebrows.
‘Youmovinginopposite?’Rubyasked.‘To MrsRoger’soldplace?’Thehouseacrossfrom wheretheyweresittinghadthedoorand bothdownstairsandupstairswindowsboarded up.
‘Well,justlookatthat,’thewomancomplained,ignoringRuby’squestionandstaringat
theboardeddoor.‘Theysaiditwouldbeopen! Howarewesupposedtogetin?’
‘Don’tworry,Ma,’theyouthsaid.‘I’vegota crowbaraboutmesomewhere.’
‘Noneed,’Graceinterrupted.‘Myma’sgot akey.’
Thewomanturnedtoher.‘Thenlet’sbe havingit.Wecan’tstandhereallnight!’
‘Landlordboardeditup,’Rubydisclosedas Gracerosetoherfeetandwentinsideherdoor. ‘Vagrantskeptmovingin.Letdown’toneof neighbourhood,youknow!’but,asthewoman didn’tsmileorcomment,addedcheerfully,‘Not thattheystayedlong.’Placewasoverrunwi’rats andmice.’
Thewomangrimacedindistaste,butthen turnedasLizzieSheppard,Grace’smother,came outholdinganironkeyinherhand.‘Tekno noticeofher,’shesaid.‘Sanitarymenhavebeen andputpoisondown.There’llbenonethere now,onnydeadonesanyway.’
Shepursedherlipsasthewomanshuddered andpulledhershawlcloseraroundhershoulders.Lizziesaidsharply,‘Beenusedtosummat better,haveyou?Well,you’llhavetoputupwi’it tillyourfortuneturns.’
Shehandedoverthekey.Thewomantookit withoutawordandmovedaway,buttheyouth cametowardsthem.‘Thanks.’Hetouchedhis cap.‘I’mDanielHansonandthey’remymaand da.They’reabitputout.’Heloweredhisvoice. ‘Thisis’thirdmovewe’vehadinsixmonths.’
‘Howcome?Didn’tyoupay’rent?’Rubyasked, lookingupathimfromthedoorstep,whilst
Graceleanedinthedoorway,herfairheadon onesideasshescrutinizedthenewcomer.
Heshookhishead.‘No,itwasn’tthat.But myda’slosthisjobandMacan’tsettle.’He grimaced.‘He’sajoinerandhe’slosthisfingers onhisrighthand.’
‘Thatwascareless.’Grace’smotherfoldedher armsacrossherthinchest.Sheworealarge sackingapronoverherdarkskirtandaman’s caponherhead.Likeherdaughter,shewasfair, butherhair,scrapedbackintoabun,wasintermingledwithstrandsofwhite.‘Howdidhe managethat?’
‘Hewasshowinganapprenticehowtosawa pieceoftimberandwasholdingitsteadyfor him.Hewasdistractedforaminuteand’lad sawedrightoverhishand.’
‘Didn’t’companypayhimowt?Ifitwasn’t hisfault?’Rubyaskedboldly.‘Sometimesthey do.’
Danielwasinterruptedinhisanswerbyhis mothercallingtohim.‘Daniel!Don’tstandthere gossipinglikeanoldwoman.Comeandhelp yourdawiththisfurniture.’
‘Nosybeggars,’shemutteredasDanielcame acrossandliftedoneendofthetable.Heandhis fathermanoeuvreditthroughthedoor.‘Ihope youdidn’ttell’emallourbusiness?’
‘CourseIdidn’t.Anyway,what’stheretotell? Everybodyroundhereisdownontheirluck, we’renodifferentfromanybodyelse!’
‘Huh!Don’tclassmewith’likesoffolkround here!’Hismother’smouthturneddown.‘Andif theygetawhiffthatyourdagotsomebenefit
fromhisaccident,we’llhaveall’beggarsfrom Hullafterus.’
Daniel’sfatherspokeforthefirsttime.‘In anothercoupleo’monthsthere’llbenowtofit leftanyway,’hemuttered.‘Soweshan’thaveto worryaboutfolksknowingowt.’
‘I’llbeearningsoon,Da,’Danielassuredhim. ‘Thenwe’llbeallright.We’llsoonbesetup again.Wejusthavetohangontillthen.’
Hismotherlookedaroundthesmalldark room.‘Whatacomedown.IneverthoughtI’dbe broughttothis.WhenIthinkofmynicelittle house!’
‘Shutupwillyou,woman,’herhusbandbellowedinasuddenburstoffrustration.‘Itwasn’t myfault,itwasthatstupidlad’s.’
‘Ineversaiditwasyourfault!’hiswife retaliated.‘Butyoushouldhavebeenwatching him.’
‘ThinkIdidthisonpurpose?’Heshookhis injuredhandather.Onlyhisthumbandswollen stumpsoffingersbelowtheknuckleswereleft, andsheturnedaway.
‘Canyouget’boardoff’window?’she muttered.‘Let’sgetsomelightinhere.’
‘I’lldoit.Willyouhelpme,Da?’Daniel reachedforhistoolbagandcrowbarinsideit.
‘Aye.’Hisfather’svoicewaslowanddespondent.‘Fromcraftsmantolabourerinten seconds.That’sallitteks.’
‘We’llbeallright,’Danielagainassuredhimas theyforcedtheboardoffthewindow.‘Youteach meallyouknowandassoonasI’moutofmy timeI’llbeearninggoodmoney.Then,’he 11 13
wrenchedattheboardoverthebrokendoor,‘as soonasI’vemadeabito’money,we’llgetsetup inbusiness.Youcantalkto’customersandlook afteraccountsandI’lldo’woodwork.’
Hespokewithsuchconfidencethathisfather wasalmostreassured,untilhereturnedindoors andsawhiswifestaringoutofthewindowwitha lookofhorroronherface.‘Justlook!Idon’t believewhatI’mseeing!’
Herhusbandandsongazedpastherthrough thecrackedanddirtyglass.
‘It’sapig,’shecroaked.‘Afilthystinkingpig.’
‘She’sletthatblastedpigoutagain.’Ruby scrambledtoherfeetasthesnufflingsowcame towardsthem.‘IswearI’llkillitandhaveitfor breakfast.’
‘Youcan’t.’Gracemovedfurtherbackintothe doorway.‘It’shavingpiglets.Ma!’shecalled urgentlyintothehouse.‘MrsPeck’spigisout again.’
Hermotherappearedwithabroomand brandishingitfuriouslyshesweptthegrunting sowbacktothehighwallwhichenclosedthe court,andtowardsadilapidatedwoodenstructure,barelybigenoughforadog,letalonea pregnantsow.Againstthiswallandatonesideof thepigpenwasawaterpumpandattheother sidewastheprivywhichservedthetwelvehouses inthecourt.Thegroundbelowthebrokendoor oftheprivyseepedwithfoulandstagnantwater andfliesandmosquitoeshoveredaboutit.
‘Wellatleastshe’snotkeepingitinside’house anymore,’shemuttered,thoughherface
showednodistaste,eitherforthegruntingsow orforthestenchemanatingfromtheprivy,so inuredwasshetohersurroundings.
‘No,butshe’sgotchickensinside,’Ruby groused.‘Theyscratchaboutunderhertableand there’smessallover’doorstep!’Rubylivedwith hermotherandyoungerbrotherinanupstairs roomabovetheground-floorroomwhichhoused MrsPeckandherhusband,sixchildren,adog, chickensandthepregnantsowwhichhadnow beenturnedouttograzeintherubbish-strewn court.
‘Sheshouldgetbackto’countrysidewhereshe belongsifshewantstokeeppigsandchickens,’ LizzieSheppardgrumbled.‘It’sbadenoughtryingtokeep’placecleanwithout’messofstinking livestock.Andtheyattractvermin,’sheadded.‘I canhearratsscratchingeverynight.’
‘Herhusbandcan’tgetworkin’country,’ Gracevolunteered.‘Shetoldmesoherself.You know,thatdaywhenshegaveusanegg.’
‘Aye,’hermothermutteredasshewentback indoors.‘Iremembertheegg,butdoIhavetobe gratefulforever?’
‘Hello,Jamie!’Rubycalledtoayouthappearingoutofahouseatthetopendofthecourt.He wasyawningandinhishandhehadasliceof pie.XX
‘Hello,Jamie,’Gracesaidhesitantly.
Hecameacrosstothem,thensniffedatthe aromadriftingfromtheSheppards’doorway. ‘Mm,yourma’scookingsummatgood,Gracie.’
‘Fishstew.Mydabroughtsomefishheads fromoff’dock.’
13 15
Rubyswallowedandlickedherlips.‘Whatyou eating,Jamie?’
‘Beefpie.’Hetookabite,thenhandedthe remaindertoher.‘Doyouwantit?’
‘Thanks.’Shetriednottoappeartooeager, butshewassalivatingsohard,andthesightof foodandthesavourysmelloffishandonions fromGrace’shousewasalmosttoomuchtobear.
‘What’shappeningoveryonder?’Henodded towardsthehousewheretheHansonshad movedin.‘Newfolks?’
‘Theirname’sHanson.’Graceofferedtheinformation.‘MrandMrs,andtheirsonDaniel. MrHanson’slosthisfingersinanaccident.He wasajoiner.’
‘Mm.Howoldishe?DanielHanson?’
‘About’sameasyou.’Rubyspokewithher mouthfull.‘Notashandsomethough!’
‘Well,no.Ofcoursenot!’Jamielaughedashe spoke,buthesoundedconfidentthatwhatRuby saidinjestwastrue.Hewastallandslimlybuilt, fair-hairedwithpaleblueeyes.Hedidn’thave thepinchedandhungrylookofmostpeople livinginthisarea.Thesefolkneverhadquite enoughtoeatandcertainlywouldn’tbeinclined togiveawayasliceofbeefpie.Hewasalsoquite welldressedandalthoughthefrockcoathewore waslargeonhim,havingcomefromabigger man,itwasn’tthreadbarebutonlyalittleworn aroundthecuffsandcollar.
‘He’sgotaniceface,though,’Gracesaid.‘And hesmilesalot.’
‘Mustbeabitsimplethen,’Jamiesaidlazily. ‘There’snowtmuchtosmileabout,isthere?’
‘No,Isupposenot,’Graceagreed,downcast. ‘Notformostpeople.’
‘Exceptforthemasisrichandnotallus hungry.’Rubylickedherlipstocatchthelast crumb.‘Thanksfor’pie,Jamie.’
‘It’sallright,’hesaid.‘Youcanpaymeback whenyougetyourwages.’
Ruby’smouthdroppedopen.‘Areyoujoking?’ shesaidhuskily.‘Mywagesarespokenfor–I owe–’
‘He’sjoking,Ruby.Youare,aren’tyou, Jamie?’Gracepleaded.‘Saythatyouare!’
Hegaveasuddenlaugh.‘Aye.’Heslouched againstthewindowsillandgazedatherinaway whichmadeherfeelvaguelyuncomfortable,and thenfromhertoRuby.‘CourseIam.ButImight callin’debtoneday.’
Rubyletoutasighofrelief.‘Ifeveryou’re desperateforapieceo’pie,Jamie,’shegrinned, ‘justyoucallonme.’
‘Supper’sready,Grace.Comeonin.’Grace’s mothercalledfrominsidethehouse.
‘IsthereenoughtospareforRuby,Ma?’ ThoughGraceaskedhermother,sheglancedat herfather,whowassittingbythelowfire.
BobSheppardlookedup.‘Lassisearning money,sameasyou.Can’tshebuyherown food?’HespokebrusquelybutGraceknewvery wellthathewouldn’tturnRubyaway.
‘Shepays’rentoutofherwages,Da,youknow thatshedoes.AndshekeepsyoungFreddieas wellasherma.’
Herfathergrunted,buthermothercalledout throughtheopendoor.‘Seeifyou’veabito’
breadathome,Ruby,andyoucanhaveabowlo’ souptodipitin.’
Rubyappearedinthedoorway.‘Iknowwe haven’t,AuntLizzie.Iate’lastpiecethismorningaforeIwentout.’
‘Sowhat’sFreddiehadtoeatallday?’Lizzie pausedwiththeironsaucepaninherhand.The panwasheavy,butLizzie,whohiredherselfout asawasherwomantothepeopleinthebig housesinthetown,wasstrong,withmuscular arms.
RubyknewthatFreddiewouldn’thavehad anythingtoeat,butshedidn’tanswerand watchedasGrace’smotherpouredthethinsoup intothreebowlswhichwerealreadyonthetable. Rubyeyedthem.‘I’mnottekkingyours,amI?’
‘No.’Lizzieshookherhead.‘I’vehadmy dinneralready.’CookatHighStreetwhereI’ve beentoday,sheallusdoesplentyoffoodon washday.Nowtomorow,whenIgoto’housein AlbionStreet,’cookthereisthatmeansheonny givesenoughtofeedasparrow.Goon,sitdown. There’snotmuchbutit’llfillacorner.’
‘Idon’tknowwhatI’ddowithoutyouandMr Sheppard,’Rubysaidgratefully.‘Majustcan’t seemtomanage.’
BobSheppardslurpedhissoupanddippeda thicksliceofbreadintoit.‘Ifshedidn’tspend moneyon’poppyandherpipe,she’dbeableto,’ hemuttered,glancingathiswifewhoraisedher eyebrowsathim,andRubynoddedinagreement.Itwasacknowledgedbyeveryonewho knewRuby’smother,Bessie,thatshewastotally dependentontheopiumwhichsheboughtraw
andgrated,andthenmixedwithherbsorleaves ifshehadnomoneyfortobacco.Shewasnever seenwithouthershortclaypipeinhermouth.If shecouldn’taffordtobuytheraw,shedosed herselfwithlaudanumboughtfromthegrocer whichwasreadymixedwithwineorspirits.
‘Somebody’sbeentoyourhousetoday.’Lizzie stoopedtoplaceasmallpieceofwoodon thefire.Beingonthegroundfloortheyhadthe luxuryofahearth,unliketheupstairsroom whereRubyandherfamilylived.Althoughthey couldsaytheywereluckytohavearoofover theirheads,theceilingabovethemwassorotten thatagapingholeshowedthroughtotheattic.
‘Who?’Rubywasstartled.‘Not’debtcollector?’
‘Afamily,’shereplied.‘Aman,wifeandthree bairns.Isawthemcomethisafternoon,butI didn’tseethemgooutagain.’ShegaveRubyan intenseglance.‘Mebbethey’restillthere.’
Rubypushedherchairback.‘Thanksfor ’soup,AuntLizzie.I’dbettergoandseewhat’s goingon.’
AlthoughLizzieSheppardwasn’therreal aunt,Rubyhadalwayscalledhersuch.Shehad knowntheSheppardsmostofheryounglifeand sheandGracewereinseparable.Once,soshe hadbeentold,Grace’smotherandherown mother,BessieRobson,hadbeengoodfriends too.Buttheynolongerspoke,andno-oneknew why.
Thehouseinwhichtheylivedwasatthe endofthecourt,andnearesttothewallwhich separatedthiscourtfromtheonebeyond.The wallwasalmostashighasthehouses,thus
blockingoutanylightorair.Sunshinenever reacheddownhereandalthoughtoday,being summer,thesunhadbeenbrightinthesky,the residentsofMiddleCourthadnotbeenawareof it.
Rubyclimbedthebrokenstairs,and,whenshe cametotheirsmalllanding,sawthatarickety woodenladderhadbeenplacedagainstthe wall.Attachedtotheladderwasapieceofrope whichhadbeenpushedthroughthepartially opentrapdoorintheceiling.Shelookedupand thoughtthatshecouldhearwhispering.
Sheopenedthedooroftheirroom.‘Ma!Why’s thatladderhere?’
Hermotherwassittingonaraggedmattress withhershawlandathinblanketwrapped aroundher.Theroomfeltcoldanddamp inspiteoftheheatoutside.ShegaveRubya nervoussmilewhichshowedthatseveralfront teethweremissingbutwherethegapperfectly accommodatedherclaypipe.
‘I’vemadeussomemoney,’shewheezed,and tappedthesideofhernose.‘You’llbepleasedwi’ me,Ruby.’
‘Whathaveyoudonenow,Ma?Whathaveyou sold?Notthatwe’veowtlefttosell!’
HermothercrookedherfingerforRuby tocomenearer.WhenRubywasnearenoughto hearawhisper,Bessiepointedupattheceiling. ‘I’vegotussomelodgers,’shecroaked.‘They’re livingupstairs.’
CHAPTERTWO
‘Livingupstairs!Whatdoyoumean,livingupstairs?There’snofloorupstairs!’Rubystaredat hermotherandthenupatthebrokenceiling. ‘Besides,what’s’landlordgoingtosay?’
‘He’llnotfindout,’rentmannevercomesup here.He’stooscaredo’tummellingdown’steps.’ Hermothergaveasatisfiedgrinandchewedon herunlitpipe.‘And’chapupyonder–MrBlake –he’sfoundabito’plankingandputthatdown forthemtowalkandliedownon.’
‘Somebody’llseethatladder!’Rubyinsisted. ‘You’llhaveusturnedout,thenwhat’llwedo?’
‘Nobody’llseeit.I’llkeep’frontdoorshut,and folksupstairswon’tsayowt.They’venowhere elsetogo.’
Therewasnoreasoningwithher,andRuby sankontothemattressandputherhandsto herhead.‘Frontdoorwon’tshut,Ma,’shesaid, eventhoughknowingshewasdefeated.‘Hingeis hangingoff.’
Rubynevereverlefttherentmoneywithher mother,forsheknewshewouldrushtospendit onheraddictionassoonasRubyhadleftthe
housetogotowork.Therentcollectorcalled onaSundaywhenRubywasathome,andif therewasanymoneyleftafterbuyingbread andpotatoesandpayingoffsomeofthedebts whichtheyowed,hetookit.Theywerealwaysin arrears,and,tryasshemight,shecouldnever catchupwiththepayments.
‘I’mchargingashillingaweek,’hermother wheedled.‘They’reeversograteful.’Shelooked atherdaughterpleadinglyandheldouther hand.Therewereafewcoppersinherpalm. ‘Youcanhavethese,Ruby.Isaved’emforyou.’
Rubytookthecoins.Icanbuybread,she wavered,andshortofclimbingtheladderand tellingthepeopletoleave,Ican’tthinkwhatelse todo.Mawillhavespenttherestoftheshilling, sowecan’tgiveitback.Andtheymustbe desperate,shedecided,tobegratefultoliveina colddamploftwithrottenbeamsandgaping holesintheroof.
‘Where’sFreddie?Hasheeatentoday?’
Hermotherdroppedhergaze.‘He’sout.He mighthavegotajob.’
‘Howcanhegetajob?He’sonnyjusteight.’In spiteofherlackofeducationRubyknewthe factorylaw.Whenherbrotherwasnine,thenhe couldapplyforajobjustasshehaddonewhen shehadreachedthatage.‘Anyway,he’sskinand bone.Who’dtekhimon?’
Hermotherhadashiftylookabouther.What wassheupto?SheglancedupatRuby.‘Idomy best,Ruby,’shewhined.‘Idomybestforallof us.Ican’thelpitifI’mnotwellenoughtowork myself.’
‘Freddie!’Rubypersisted.Shehadheardher mother’sstoryofillhealthsooftenthatitno longerraisedanysympathy.‘Whereishe?’
‘Amancameto’housethismorning.He’dseen Freddieoutin’streetandsaidthathewasjust ’sortofbrightladthatafriendofhiswaslooking for.SoFreddie’sgonewithhim,andifthisman’s friendtekstohimthenhe’llbindhimasan apprentice.Hesaidhewasoldenoughateight.’
‘Butwhowashe?Youlethimgowi’astranger! Todowhat,Ma?’
‘He’llgetfedandclothedandlookedafter, thoughhewon’tbeabletocomehome.’Her mothershuffledaroundonherbedofoldrags andcoats.‘Weshan’thavetobuysomuchfoodif he’snothere.’
‘Ma!’Rubyscreeched.‘Doingwhat?’
‘Didn’tIsay?’Hermother’smouthworked nervously.‘Asachimneysweep’slad!’
Rubylaydownandcurledherselfintoaball withherheadonherknees.Shewassotiredand weary,andnowthis.‘Ma!Howcouldyou?You knowhe’snotstrong.Hecouldgetstuckupa chimneyandnevergetout!’
‘No,’hermothersaideagerly.‘That’swhatI saidtothismanthatcame,andhesaidthat becauseFreddiewassosmalltherewasnofearo’ that.That’swhyhewouldbejustperfectfor thisjob.Andhesaidhewouldbeworkingin ’countrysideinbighousessohe’llgetplentyo’ freshair.’
Shewaitedamomentbeforeadding,‘Andhe saidthatifhisfriendtookhimon,thenhe’dpay ustenshilliings.’ 21 23
Rubyliftedherheadandgazedathermother. ‘You’dsellFreddiefortenshillings?’
‘WhatelsecanIdo?’Hermothertookherpipe outofhermouthandlaiditonthebed.Shetook holdofRuby’shand.‘Don’tbeangrywi’me, Ruby.I’mdoingmybest.Ifwe’damanabout we’dmanagebetter.Ifyou’donnyfindsomenice youngfellainworkwho’dlookafterus.’
‘Likemyda,youmean,whowentoffwitha fancypiece?AndlikeourJoshwhoyousent offtoseaasanapprenticeandwe’venever seensince.Oh,yes.’Rubynoddedherhead vigorously.‘That’sjustwhatweneed,aman abouttheplacetokeepusinlittleluxuries,like hotdinnersnowandagainorapairofbootsthat don’tleak,andmebbearoomwithafireso’swe couldkeepwarm.’
Shestartedtoweep.‘I’mfifteenyearsold,Ma, andIfeellikeanoldwoman.’
Butshewipedhereyesandwiththefewcoins clutchedinherhandwentouttobuyoldbread fromthebaker.Intheshopwindowwasone smallmeatpiewithabluebottlebuzzinground it.‘I’llgiveyouapennyforthatpie,’shesaid, handingoverapennyforthebread.‘It’sgotafly onit.’
Thebakerflickedtheflyawaythenwipedthe topofthepiewithhisflouryfingers.‘Itwould havebeentuppencetoanybodywhohadn’tseen it,’hesaid.‘Here,tekit.’Hewrappedapieceof paperaroundthepieandhandedittoher, wavingawayherofferofapenny.‘Isawyourma earlier,’hesaid,andgaveaknowingnod.‘She wascomingoutofapothecary’syonder.’
Ruby’sheartsank.‘Thanks,’shemutteredand takingherpurchasesshehurriedacrossthe streettothechemist’sshop.Therewasno-one elseintheshopbutthechemistinaloosebrown coatwithhisbacktoher,liftingdownastonejar fromtheshelf.‘MrCooke,’shesaiddiffidently. ‘MrCooke,I’dbeobligedifyoudidn’tgivemy maanymoremedication.’
Heraisedhiseyebrows.‘Ifsheasksforitand hasthemoneytopayforit,thenI’mobligedto sellittoher.’HeshookhisheadatRuby.‘IfI don’t,she’llgoelsewhereandmaybegiven somethingtotallyunsuitable.’
Ruby’smouthtrembled.‘We’vebarelyenough moneyforfood,’shebegan.
‘Iknow,’hemurmured.‘Idounderstand.But it’stoolate,yourmotherhastohaveanopiate, she’stakenitsinceshewasachild.Shecan’tgive itupnow.’
Rubyturnedaway,tearsprickinghereyes,but thechemistcalledherback.‘I’veonlygivenher asmallbottleofBlackDrop.It’smild,justa solutioninwineandwon’thurther,onlycalm herdown.Youcouldeventakeityourself.’He reachedacrosstoadrawerandtookoutsome coins.‘Here.’Hehandedherasixpenceanda penny.‘Yourmotherpaidmetoomuch.Iwas goingtokeepituntilnexttime.’
Shethankedhimandleft.Takeitmyself,she mused.PerhapsIshould.It’ssupposedtoreduce depression.Thenshegaveherselfamental shake.Don’tbesostupid,Ruby.Don’tstarton thatdownwardpath.Sheknewthathermother hadgivenherlaudanumwhenshewasachild,as
shehadgivenittoFreddiewhenhewasababy. Mostmothersgaveittotheirchildrentoensure thattheysleptalldaywhilsttheywereoutat work.Thenthemotherswereoftensotired themselves,afteralongdayatthefactoryorfish dock,thatacordiallacedwithlaudanumwas giventothechildrenintheeveningsothatthey wouldsleep,andthemotherscouldgetsome sleepthemselves.
ItwasGrace’smotherwhohadweanedRuby offit.ShehadbeensevenandstillrememberedthequarrelbetweenAuntLizzieandher mother,whenAuntLizziehadsnatchedthe bottlefromRuby’slittlehandandsmasheditto theground.‘You’llkillher,’she’dshouted.‘Just asyoukilledthoseotherbairns.’Anditwasthen thatRubyhaddiscoveredthattherehadbeen otherchildren,brothersorsisters,whohadn’t survived.
Asshecrossedthestreettowardshome, shesawFreddiewalkinghandinhandwitha strangerwhowasverywelldressedforthese parts.Shecalledoutandrantowardshim.
‘Ruby!’thechildshoutedexcitedly.‘I’mstartingwork!I’vehadmydinnerand–thisisMr Jonas.He’sjustgivenMatenshillingsso’sthatI canstartstraightaway.’
Rubystaredatthemaninthefrockcoat.He inclinedhisheadtowardsher,butdidn’ttake offhistophat.So,whilstherbackwasturned thedeedwasdone!Freddiehadbeensoldand probablyalreadyhermotherwassmokingher pipeandtakinganextradoseofBlackDropto celebratehergoodfortune.
‘HowshallIknowwheretofindFreddie?’she askedMrJonas.‘Incaseowthappensandwe needtobeintouchwithhim.Andtoknowifhe’s allright,’sheadded,notlikingthelookofthe man.
MrJonaslookedsurprisedatthequestion,asif hehadn’teverbeenaskeditbefore.Hefishedin hiswaistcoatpocketandbroughtoutacard whichhehandedtoher.‘Getintouchwithmein thecaseofemergencyordeathandIwillcontact Freddie’semployer.DonotdisturbmeforanythingtrivialasIamanextremelybusyman.’
Rubylookedatthecard.Itwasgrubbyand bentattheedgesasifithadbeeninhispocketa longtime,and,assheglancedatMrJonasnow, hedidn’tseemtobequiteasprosperousasshe hadfirstthought.Hishatwasratherbattered,his blackfrockcoathadatingeofgreenandwas crumpledasifithadbeensleptin,andhis fingernailswereextremelydirty.
‘It’snotyou,then?’sheaskedpertinently. ‘You’renot’chimneysweep?’
‘Certainlynot,’herepliedhuffily.‘Iaman agent.Isearchoutsuitablepeopleforemployment.’
‘Wouldn’tyourathercomebackhome, Freddie?’sheaskedherbrother.‘You’retoo youngtowork.’
‘Toolate,youngwoman,’Jonasinterrupted. ‘Thecontractissignedandthemoneypaidover tohismother.Andhe’snottooyoung,he’shad hiseighthbirthdayIunderstand.’Hetookhold ofFreddie’sarm.‘Hecomeswithme.’
‘I’llbeallright,Ruby,’Freddiecalledashewas
marchedaway,thoughshethoughtshenowsaw doubtinhisyoungeyes.‘Don’tworryaboutme.’
Rubywasconcerned,shewasfondofher brotheranddidn’tliketothinkofhimgoingto livewithstrangers,butsheranasfastasshe couldbacktowardsMiddleCourtandwasjustin timetocatchhermotherscurryingoutofthe alleyandintothestreet.‘Comeon,Ma,’she demanded.‘Handitover.’
Hermotherclutchedherblackshawlaround herthroat.Shelookslikeawizenedoldcrow, Rubythought.Herface,whichBessiealways maintainedhadbeenbeautifulinheryouth,was wrinkledandpallidandheroncedarkhair wasnowmostlywhite.‘Handwhatover?’she croaked.‘Ihaven’tgotapennyonme,honestto God,Ruby.Ihaven’t.’
Rubystoodhergroundandbeckonedwithher fingersforhermothertohandoverthemoney shehadtakenfromMrJonas.‘It’smine,’her motherwhined.‘It’sformyson.Nowttodowi’ you!’
‘Giveithere,’Rubyinsisted.‘Itcangotowards ’rentandIcangetmybootsmended,myfeetget soakedwheneveritrains.’Thelasttimeithad rained,whenthecourtwasfloodedwithwater, shehadcarriedherbootsinherhanduntilshe reachedthefootpathoutinthestreet.Shehad driedhertoesonherskirthemand,although herfeetwerecold,atleastherbootsweredry. Therewasnothingworse,shehadreasoned, thanwearingwetbootsallday.
Hermotherfishedinherskirtpocketandtook outfiveshillingsandgaveittoRuby.
‘Andtherest,Ma.Anotherfive!’
‘I’mgoingto’butcher’s,’shemuttered petulantly.‘Ineedsomemoney.’
Rubykeptherhandout.‘Andwhatwillyou buyat’butcher’s?’sheasked.‘Anicejointo’ meat?Amuttonchop?’
Hermothernoddedeagerly.‘Yes!Yes,that’s it.’
‘Andwherewillyoucookit,Ma?Seeingas we’venofire!’
Hermotherlookedconfusedforamoment, thensaid,‘Ah!’Shegazedaroundherasif searchingforinspiration.‘Well,I’llbuysummat alreadycooked.That’sit!That’swhatI’lldo.’
‘Giveme’restofmoney,Ma,’Rubysaid wearily.‘I’vegotameatpieherethatwecanhave foroursupper.Comeon,I’mtired,Iwanttogo tobed.’
Reluctantly,Bessiehandedovertheremaining fiveshillings.Rubytookit,then,inafitofpity forhermother,gaveherthepennywhichthe chemisthadgivenbacktoher.‘Gogetyourselfa glassofale,’shesaid.‘Thencomehomeandwe’ll share’pie.’
‘You’renotabadlass,Ruby,’hermothersaid. ‘Don’tyouwantaglass?’
Rubyconsidered,thenhandedoverthesixpence.‘Aye,whynot!BorrowajugfromTapand Barrelandwe’llbothhavesome.’
CHAPTERTHREE
‘Comeon,Jamie,getmoving.Timeyouwereon yourway.’
‘Yes.Yes.Allright.’Jamieheardhis mother’surgingvoice,butdidn’thurryandcontinuedtogazeathisreflectioninthepiece ofbrokenmirrorwhichhungbythedoor, thenretiedtheyellowkerchiefaroundhis neck. XX
‘That’smine!’hismotheradmonished.‘You littlethief!’
‘I’monnyborrowingit,Nell.Keepyourhair on.Besides,’headded,‘itwasn’tyoursin’first place.’
‘Yesitwas.Somebodygivemeit.’
‘Insteadofmoney?Youwereshort-changed. It’sonnyabito’cheapcotton.’
Hismothershrugged.‘Iliked’colour.Besides, itwasthatornowt.’
‘Ikeeptellingyou,youshouldtekmoneyfirst, makesurethey’vegotit.’Heturnedawayfrom themirrortolookathismother.‘Youshould leave’bargainingtome,you’refartootrusting, that’syourtrouble.’
‘Notlikeyou,eh,Jamie?Goon,getoff.Drum upsomebusiness.’
Jamielaughedandlefthismothertogazein themirrorashehadjustdone.Shesawasimilar versionofhisface,thesamelightblueeyesand fullmouth,butwherehisfeatureswerestrong andangular,herswereroundedandfeminine. ‘Hemusttekafterhisfather,whoeverhewas,’ shemurmured,brushingpowderedrougeon hercheeksandcarmineonherlips.‘Amano’ business,Ishouldn’twonder.’
Nellhadsuccumbedtotheblandishmentsof anoldermanwhenshewasfourteen.Hehad givenherabraceletandgiftsofmoneytoensure herdiscretion,forhewasafriendofherparents anddidn’twantthemtofindoutabouthisliaison withtheirdaughter.Asshefoundtheexperience notunpleasantandthemoneyverywelcome,for shewasfondofprettyclothes,shedecidedthatit wasaneasyenoughwayofmakingalivingand muchmorecongenialthanworkinginafactory oronthefishdockasshewasdoing.Shefound plentyofcustomers,forshewasattractiveand willing,andshetoldherparentsthatshehad changedherjobandwasworkingnightshiftsat aseedmill.
Inevitablyshefellpregnant,wasdiscovered andturnedoutofthehousebyherfather.She sufferedgreathardshipformanyyearsasshe triedtomakealivingforherselfandherchild, Jamie.Whenhewasababyhesleptallnightwith thehelpoflaudanum,butashegrewolderhe hadtofendforhimselfduringthenighthours whenshewasatwork.Shehadamiscarriage 29 31
whenJamiewastwoandbledprofusely,butafter thatsheneveragainbecamepregnant.
WhenJamiereachedthirteen,heconfronted her.‘You’redoingitallwrong,Ma,’hesaid. ‘Youshouldbemoreparticular.Tradesmenand businessmenaretheoneswi’regularmoney.Not seamenorcommonlabouringtypeswhoonny spendonaSaturdaynightafterthey’vegottheir wages.’
Hewasrightofcourse,tradewasgenerally slackduringtheweek,butSundaymorningsshe wasalwaysexhaustedandspentthedayinbed. Buthowwouldsheattractbusinessmen?Shewas muchthinnerthanshehadbeeninheryounger daysandherclotheswereshabbyandtorn.She lookedwhatshewas,adestitutestreetwoman.
‘Leaveittome,’Jamiehadsaidbeforehewent offtotheMarketPlace.Hecamebackafew hourslaterandshookherawake.Underhisarm hehadablackandredcottondresstrimmed withlaceattheneckandhem,anembroidered shawl,andajacketforhimself.Shedidn’task howhehadacquiredthem,forheoftenbrought thingshomethathecouldn’thaveobtained honestly.
‘Thisiswhatyoumustdo,’he’dsaid.‘Get dressednow,no–notinthese,’asshe’dreached forthenewfinery,‘andfindacustomer.Charge asmuchasyouthinkhecanafford.Then,’he’d shakenafingerather,‘in’morningyoumustgo to’publicbaths.It’llcostapennybutyou’llgeta cleantowelandsoapinwith’priceofhotwater. Washyourhair–youusedtohavelovelyhair, Ma,’andshenodded,forshedid,thickandfair
andcurly.Hewinked.‘Thenwe’reinbusiness.’
‘Whatyoutalkingabout,Jamie?’she’dasked. ‘Howcan we beinbusiness?’
‘I’mgoingtochooseyourcustomers,’he grinned.‘I’vebeenobservingfolkscoming andgoingandIknow’bestplacestocatch ’em,andit’snotwalkingupanddownoutside innsandpublichouseslikeacommondrab.’
Shewasunsuretobeginwith,butshe’dtrusted himandithadworked.Heapproached,not singlemenwalkingalone,butgroupsofmen, comingoutfromtheirbanksorplacesofbusiness,andinaslywhispertoldthemthatheknew ofaverypresentableladywhowasmostobliging. Therewasmuchguffawingandloudbanteras theyrefusedhisofferandwalkedaway,butthere wasalwaysone,orsometimestwo,whowould turntheirheadsandcatchhiseye.Hewould nodandplacehisfingeronhislipstodenote secrecy,andthensitontheneareststepsorwall andawaittheirhurriedreturntoarrangean assignation.
Hewasoftengivenacopperforhistrouble andwhenthetimeandplacewerearranged,he wouldraceofftothenearestcleanandprivate establishmentwheretheywerediscreetabout suchmatters,andbookaroomforanhour.
Astimewenton,hismother’scustomersbecameregular,herincomewassteadyandthey eventuallywereabletoaffordaground-floor roomoftheirowninsteadofhavingtoshare withothers.AlthoughMiddleCourtwashardly luxurious,therentwascheapandtheneighbours mindedtheirownbusiness.
31 33
Jamiehadnootherregularjob,buthecarried messagesaboutthetownandwasknowntobe discreet.Hedeliveredpackagesandparcelsand evenjointsofmeatforthebutcherandboxesof groceriesforthegrocer,bothofwhomalso happenedtobehismother’scustomers.Hewas hisownmaster,beholdentono-one,andalways hadmoneyinhispocket.Buthewasadamant aboutonething,andthatwasthathismother shouldneverbringmenhome.
Hesatnowonthestepsofthebankinthe warmsummereveningandwatchedaspeople hurriedhomefromtheirplacesofwork. Throughshopwindowshesawshopgirls withwearyfaces,anddrapersfoldingrollsof clothandrearrangingtheirdisplays.Factory workerstrudgedalongthestreettowardshomes wheretherewouldbelittlecomfort,andhewas gladofhisgoodfortunethatheandhismother couldchoosetheirworkinghours.Theydidn’t havetobeupbeforedawnbrokethroughthe skies,butwereusuallyjusttumblingintotheir beds.
HesawRubycomeoutofthechemist’sshop andhurryacrossthestreettoamanwithasmall boy.Curiouslyheobservedherasshespoketo theman.‘Surely!’hemuttered.‘NotRuby?’but thenhesawthatthesmallboywasherbrother. HewatchedasRubyherselfwatchedtheman walkawayandFreddieconstantlyturnaroundto wave,andhisnaturalinquisitivenessmadehim wanttoknowwhatwashappening.Hefollowed Rubyassheracedtowardshomeandgreetedher motherasshecameoutfromthealley,saw
moneychangehandsandhermotherscurryoff towardstheTapandBarrel.
They’vecomeintomoney,hemused.Iwonder how?Anditwasthenthataprocessofthought beganandhesawRubyinadifferentlight.
WhenDanielHansonpushedthecartdownthe alleywayandsawthetwogirlssittingsidebyside onthedoorstep,hewasimmediatelystruckby theircloseness,theirobviouseasycompanionship.Atfirsthethoughtthatperhapstheywere sisters,eventhoughtheyweredissimilar:oneso darkandlively,wholookedasifshemighthave beenplumphadshehadsufficienttoeat,the otherfairandslender,withfineaccentuated cheekbonesandanairoffragility.Butthenhe reasonedthattheywerenotsisters,forthefair one,whomhenowknewtobeGrace,entered herhousewhilstRubystayedoutsideuntil invitedin.
Hehelpedtounpacktheboxcontainingtheir fewbelongings,butkeptglancingtowardsthe uncurtainedwindowandacrossthecourttowards Grace’shouse.
‘Don’tkeeplookingoutthere,’hismother grumbled.‘Anddon’tthinkofgettingfriendly withthemlasses!Dirtylittletrollops.Nobetter thantheyshouldbe,Ireckon.’
‘That’snotfair,Ma,’heprotested.‘They’re probablyjustbackfromwork.’
‘Well,they’renotshopgirls,that’safact.Not wearingthoseoldrags.’HadMrsHansonhada daughter,beingashopgirlwouldhavebeenan ambitionshewouldhaveactivelyencouraged.
HesawRubycomeoutofGrace’shouseandgo totheendofthecourt,and,bypeeringfromthe sideofthewindow,watchedhergothrough anotherdoorway.Sothat’swhereshelives,he thought.Sothetwogirlsarefriends.Alittle later,asheglancedoutatthedarkeningcourt,a youthofabouthisownagesaunteredby.Hewas whistlingashewenttowardsthealleywayand adjustingtheyellowkerchiefaroundhisneck. Danielperkedup.Heseemedamerrysort offellow.Hehadajauntystepandanairof confidenceabouthim,whichwasquiteunusual inthisbleakanddilapidatedarea.
‘Ican’tgetthisfiretoburn.’Woodmustbe damp.’Hismother’svoiceinterruptedhis thoughts.
‘It’snotdamp,’hesaid.‘Itwasundercoverat ’woodyard.Here,letmedoit.’Hekneltdown ontheroughbrickswhichhadbeenlaidtokeep theoccupants’feetclearoftheearthfloor.They werelaidhaphazardlyandinthegapsbetween them,dampsoiloozedout.
Heblewvigorouslyatthesmoulderingwood inthehearth.‘It’snotdrawing.Doyouthink ’chimneystackisblockedupwithsoot,Da?’
‘There’smebbeafireplaceupstairs.’Hisfather drewhimselfupfromthechairwherehehad beensittingindeepmelancholy.‘It’sprobably beenshutofftokeepdraughtout.’
‘Goonandlookthen,’hiswifeurged.‘There’s nobodyupthere.Butlooksharpaboutitotherwisethere’llbenopoto’teatonight.’
Danielwashalfwayupthestairswhenhe stopped,hisfatheralmostcannoningintohim.
‘Whatastink,Da.’Heheldhishandoverhis nose.‘That’snotjustdamp!’
Hisfathertooputhishandoverhislowerface. ‘It’sprivy!It’llnothavebeenemptied.Ibetit’s seepingunder’floor.’Hescreweduphisfaceand muttereddespairingly,‘God!Whathavewecome to?Inevereverthought–’
‘We’llbeoutofitsoon,Da.’Danielloweredhis handfromhisfacebutdarednottakeabreath, thestenchwassooverpowering.‘Ifit’s’privy, whyisitworseuphere?’Hetookfurthersteps upthebrokenstaircasetowardstheclosed dooroftheupstairsroom,whichhadapieceof timberbattenedacrossittokeepoutvagrantsor othersuchpersonswhowereseekingshelterand unabletopayforit.
‘I’llfetch’crowbar.’Hisfatherturnedandwent downstairsandopenedtheouterdoortoletin someair.
‘Door’slocked,’Danieltoldhimwhenhereturned.‘We’venokey.’
‘Shan’tneedone.’Hisfather,awkwardly, becauseofhisdamagedhand,appliedthecrowbarandwrenchedofftheboard.‘Putyourfoot againstit.Thesehousesweren’tbuilttolast.’
‘Areyousure,Da?’Danielwashesitantabout damagingotherpeople’sproperty.
‘I’lldoit.’Landlordwhoownsthisplace shouldbemadetoliveinit.’Hisfather’stonewas bitterandhehandedDanielthecrowbarand aimedakickatthedoor,whichsplintered.He kickedagain,viciouslythistimeasifhewas kickingthelandlord’shead,thepanelsfellin andtheysteppedinside.
Theroomwasdark,thewindowbeingboarded upfromtheoutside.Atfirsttheycouldn’tsee anythingastheonlylightwascomingfromthe doorway,butthestenchwasintolerableandthey kepttheirhandsovertheirnoses.Astheireyes becameaccustomedtothegloom,theysawthat theonlyfurniturewasabatteredwoodenchair andasmalltable,withapileofragsheapedin thecorner.Danielbaulkedattheodourand turnedtogoout.Ifthechimneywasblocked thenitwouldhavetostayblocked,hecouldn’t stayamomentlongerwithouttakingabreath.
Hisfatherlaidahandonhisarmtodetain him.‘Daniel!’hewhispered.‘Wait.’Hestepped slowlyandcautiouslytowardsthecornerofthe roomwheretheragslay,andwherenowcouldbe seenthedecayingremainsofdeadrats.
Heputhisbootagainsttheragsandhesitantly nudgedthem,thenjumpedbackinalarmasif hehadbeenbitten.HeturnedtoDaniel,alook ofhorroronhisface.‘Betterfetch’constable. There’sabodyunderhere.’
CHAPTERFOUR
‘Whodoyouthinkshewas,Ma?’Graceandher motherwatchedfromthewindow,firsttheconstableandparishofficerarrivingattheHansons’, andthenthecarterswhobroughtoutabodyon awoodenstretcher.Thesheetcoveringthebody slippedasthemenmanoeuvredthestretcher throughthenarrowdoorwayandtheysawa glimpseofawoman’sskirtandbarefoot.
Hermothershookherhead.‘Somepoorsoul withnowheretogo.’Shesighed.‘She’soutofher miserynow,anyway.’
‘Somebodymustbemissingher.’Gracewas almostintears.‘Shemustbesomebody’s daughterorsister.Ormother,’sheadded,for theycouldn’ttelltheageofthewomanbythe glimpsetheyhadofher.
Hermotherturnedawayfromthewindow. ‘Shemightnotbefromtheseparts.Shecould havecomefromanotherdistrictlookingfor work.Ormebbebeenturnedoutbyherfamily. Whoknows?’Shegaveacynicalgrunt.‘She wouldn’thavechosentoliveinthisseweranyway, notifshe’dhadanyotherchoice.’
Gracecontinuedtogazeatthedarkening court.DanielHansoncameoutofthehouseand leanedagainstthewall.Hisfacewaspaleandhe keptrunninghishandthroughhisbrownhairin anabstractedway.IwonderifitwasDanielwho foundthebody?shethought.Andwherewasit? Sheglancedattheupstairsroomopposite.The boardshadbeenknockedoutandfromthe brokenwindowatorncurtainfluttered.
Danielsawherandsignalledtohertocome across.‘Notagoodstart,isit?’hebegan.‘Findingabodyon’daywemovein!Ma’shavingafit inside.’Heindicatedwithaslightmovementof hisheadtowardsthedoorway.
‘Whowasit?’Graceaskedinalowvoice.‘I hopeitwasn’tanybodyweknow.’
‘Itwasawoman.’Hegrimaced.‘She’dbeen thereaweekortwo,Ireckon.Shemusthave hiddenin’cupboardwhensheheardsanitary mencomingin.They’dbeentoputpoisondown for’rats.’Heglancedatheranddecidednotto explainanythingfurther.
‘Landlordwillbeintroubleforsealingup ’window,Iexpect,’Gracesaidinalowvoice.‘His menshouldhavecheckedfirsttomakesure therewasnobodyinside.Shemighthavebeen knockingandwedidn’thear!’Hervoicebroke. ‘Itdoesn’tbearthinkingabout.’
‘Doyoufancyawalk?’heaskedsuddenly.‘I coulddowithgettingoutofhereforabit.’
‘Allright,’sheagreed.‘I’lljustgetmyshawl.’ Thesunwasdownandabreezehadsprungup, dispellingthesultryair.
‘I’llnothavetobelong,’shesaid,whenshe
camebackandfollowedhimdownthealleyway andtowardsthestreet.‘I’vetobeupatfive o’clock.’
‘Wheredoyouwork?’heasked.
‘Cottonmill.’
‘Areyouaweaver?Oraspinner?’
‘No!’Shegaveagrimlaugh.‘Neitherofthose. WishIwas.Ifetchandcarry,sweep’floors,wash down’frames,shift’bales,fill’bobbins,dowhateverI’masked.I’moneof’oldhands,beenthere sinceIwasabairn.’
Itwashisturntolaugh.‘You’reonnyabairn now!’
‘I’mnot,’shesaid.‘I’mfifteen.’
Shelookedyounger.Shewasslight,withsmall handsandfeetandaheart-shapedface,her eyebrowsdarkerthanherfairhair.Eyebrows whichhadacoatingofwhitedustonthem,asdid thetipofhernose.
Theycameoutintothebusystreet.Shopswere stillopentoallowthefactoryandmillworkersto buytheirprovisionsandtheinnsandtaverns werealreadycrowdedwithpeople.
‘HowlonghaveyoulivedinMiddleCourt?’he asked.
Sheglancedupathim.‘Idon’trememberever livinganywhereelse.’
‘Really?It’sadump!Howcanyoustandit?’
Sheshrugged.‘We’venomoneytoliveanywhereelse.Besides,’landlordknowsthatmyma anddawillalluspay’rent.Dasayswemustpay ’rentevenbeforeweeat.’
Theywalkedon,awayfromtheovercrowded courtsandalleywayswhichspilledovertothe
banksoftheriverHull,andtowardsthepleasant squareofJarrettStreetandJohnStreet.
‘Well,Idon’tintendstayingthere.’Daniel’s facewasset.‘We’vehithardtimesnow,butas soonasI’moutofmyapprenticeship,thenI’ll getajobandwe’llupsticksandbeoff.’
‘Wherewillyougo?’Shewascurious.Shehad nevereventhoughtthattheoptionofmoving housewasopentoherorherparents.
‘Wheretheworkis.ButIshan’tliveinacesspitlikeMiddleCourt!Thosehousesshouldbe pulleddown.No,’hesaiddecidedly.‘Therehas tobesomethingbetterandIshallworktowards it.’
‘Imustgetback,’shesaid,suddenlyanxiousat thelatenessofthehour.‘IfIsleeplatein’morning,Ishalllosewages.’Shewasalsosecretly alarmedatwhathehadsaidaboutpullingdown thehousesinMiddleCourt.Wherewouldthey liveifthathappened?No-onewouldgivethem anotherroomsuchastheyhadnow,witha hearthandawindow,andadoorthatwasn’t broken,andaproperbedonlegs,notjustanold mattresslikeRubyandhermotherandbrother slepton.Notwithoutpayingextrarent,they wouldn’t,andevenwithhermother’s,father’s, andherownwages,theycouldn’taffordmore thanthetwoshillingsandsixpencewhichwas whattheypaidnow.Whateverwashethinking of?
Somerubbish,paperandapieceofcardboard, blewinfrontofthemandDanielkickeditwith hisboot,butGracebentdownandpickedupthe cardboardandturneditoverinherhand.
‘Whatdoyouwantwiththat?’heasked.
‘It’llline’soleofmyboot,’shesaid.‘I’vegota holeinoneofthem.’
Hesaidnothing,butglanceddownatherfeet. Herbootswereshabbyandwornandhesawthat theleatherhadcomeawayfromthesole.The cardboard,hethought,woulddonothingto keeptherainout.‘Willyoucomeforawalkon Sunday?’heasked.‘Igenerallygodowntowards ’river.’
Shepulledaface.‘To’riverHull,doyou mean?’
‘No!Ofcoursenot.It’sfoul.Everybodythrows rubbishinthere,including’butchersand’nightsoilmen.Ioncesawadeadpigfloatinginitand somelittlebairnsweretryingtolassoitanddrag itout!No,Imeantdownto’estuary–to’Humber.There’salwaysabreezeandyoucanwatch ’shipscominginandgoingout.’
‘Allright,’sheagreed.Shehadbeendownto theHumbermanytimeswithherfatherwhen shewasachild,butnotlately.HerfathernowadayssleptmostofSundays,especiallyifhehad beendrinkingthenightbefore.
HisSaturday-nightdrinkingwastheonething guaranteedtoputhermotherintoastateof anger.ButGrace’sfatherinsistedthatitwasn’t hisfault.Hehadtohaveadrink.Thelabourers’ wageswerepaidoutinoneoftheinnscloseto thedocksandtheywereexpectedtobuyale thereoncetheywerepaid.Ifhedidn’t,he said,thenhisemploymentcouldn’tbedepended upon,astheemployersandpublicanswerehand inglove.
Itwasalmostdarkastheyapproachedthefirst courtandblacknessconfrontedtheminthe narrowalleywayleadingtoMiddleCourt.‘Are youscared?’heasked,andshedidn’tliketo admitthatshewasandthatsheusuallyraced downthealleyifshewasalone.‘Doyouwantto takemyarm?’
Shehesitated.Once,severalyearsbefore, whenshehadapproachedthealley,Jamiehad seenherandofferedherhisarmtoo.Buthe hadputhisarmaroundherwaist,toprotecther, he’dsaid,onlyhishandhadstrayedunderher shawlandfounditswaytowardsherdeveloping breasts.She’dfeltverystrangeandalittlefrightenedandshe’dpushedhimawayandrunoff. Hislaughterhadechoedafterherandsincethen shehadbeencarefulnottobealonewithhim.
‘I’mallright,’shemurmured,buthewalkedin frontofherandheldhishandoutbehindhimso thatshecouldholditifshewantedto,soshefelt quitereassured.
Hermotherandfatherwerealreadyinbed whensheopenedthedoortotheirroom.Her fatherwasasleep.Shecouldhearthegentle pht, pht,soundthathealwaysmade.‘You’relate, Grace,’hermotherchastisedher.‘You’llnotget upin’morningandyouknowI’vetobeatwork forfive.’
‘Sorry,Ma.I’vebeenforawalkwithDaniel Hanson.’Sheslippedoutofherbootsandtook offherskirtandshirtandclimbedintothebed nexttohermother.‘Ma!’shesaid,afterafew minutes.
‘Mm?’Hermotherrespondedsleepily.‘What?’
‘Haveyoueverthoughtthatyou’dliketo livesomewhereelse?InsteadofMiddleCourt,I mean?’
‘Huh!Everynightinmydreams,’hermother murmured.‘Why?’
Gracesighed.‘Oh,nothingreally.’Shelooked upattheceiling.Sometimes,iftheyhadhada goodfire,ifherfatherhadfoundplentyof kindlingorevenapieceofcoalthathad droppedoffacoalwaggon,shewouldwatchthe dancingshadowsflickeringontheceilingasshe layinbed.Buttonightthefirehadburnttoash andtheroomwasindarkness,theonlylight filteringinfromtheuncurtainedwindow.She thoughtofDanielandhisdeterminedtoneof voicesayingthathewouldn’tbestayinghere.‘I justwondered,that’sall.’
‘What’shelike?’Hermother’svoicewas muffledfrombeneaththeblanket.‘ThisDaniel Hanson?’
‘He’snice,’shesaidsoftly.Hewasn’tashandsomeasJamie,hisfeatureswerestronger,and hedidn’tgiveherthosestrangestirringsthat Jamiedidwhensometimesshecaughthim lookingather.Butshethoughthimhonestand straightforward,asifhewouldonlysaywhathe meantandbelievedin.Hehadniceeyestoo, greywithlonglashes.Shewrappedherarms aroundherselfandslidfurtherbeneaththe blanket.‘Ithinkhecouldbeafriend.LikeRuby,’ sheadded.
Hermothergavealittlechuckle.‘Ah,Gracie,’ shesaidsoftly.‘You’restilljustabairn.’
Gracewaspuzzled.ThatwaswhatDanielhad
said.Butshewasn’t.Shewasagrownwomanwith ajobandwages.Whatdidtheymean?
Bothhermotherandthenherfatherhad shakenhertorouseherbeforetheyleftthe housethenextmorning.HermotherwasworkingatahouseinAlbionStreetandthedomestic stafftherelikedtohaveanearlystart.Herfather hadtowalktowardsthedockontheothersideof towntohisworkasalabourerandsohewasoff earlytoo,butGracefellasleepagainandwas onlyawakenedbyRubybangingonthedoor.
‘Comeon,’sheurged.‘We’relate!’
Gracescrambledoutofbed.Shewasusually theonetowakenRuby.Shepulledonherskirt andshirtandslippedherbarefeetintoher boots.Therewasnotimeforarinseunderthe pumpthismorning,nortimeforanythingtoeat, butshetoreapieceofbreadfromtheloafwhich hermotherhadleftonthetable,putthebread backintothebreadcrockincasethemicegotit, lockedthedoorandhidthekeyintheusual placeunderastone,andracedafterRuby.
Therereallywasn’tanyneedtolockthedoor astheyhadnopossessionsworthstealing,but,as hermotherfrequentlypointedout,theywouldn’t wanttocomehometofindthatsomebodyelse hadmovedinandneitherdidshereallytrustthe familylivingintheroomupstairs.
Ruby’smother,Bessie,ondayswhenshe wasn’tsleepinginherbed,satonthedoorstepwithherpipeinhermouth,watching thecomingsandgoingsofherneighboursinthe court.Sheknewwhowasinandwhowasout,who wasworkingandwhowasn’t,whatkindofwork
theydid,andwhethertheyowedtheirrent,and sheknewthebailiffsbyname.
Rubyhadbeenlateupthatmorningand didn’tleavethehouseuntilnearlysixo’clock. Bessiewaiteduntilshewassurethather daughterhadleftthecourtandwasonher waytowork,thenrolledoffhermattressand ontothefloor.Sheliftedfirstonecornerof themattressandpeeredunderit,andthenthe other.Thenshepulleditouttothemiddleof theroomandliftedandpeeredundertheother side.Shecouldseenothingbutgreydust,but neverthelessshewriggledbeneath,liftingitas bestshecoulduntilshereachedthemiddle. Coughingandsplutteringshewormedherway outagain.
‘Sowhat’sshedonewithit?She’shiddenit somewhere.She’snevertekkenittowork!Young varmint.Thatwasmymoney!’
Shegazedaroundtheemptyroom.There wasnowhereelseRubycouldhavehiddenthe money.Therewasnocupboard,andthefireplacehadbeenblockedoffyearsbefore,soshe hadn’tputitupthere.Betshe’sgivenitto Grace’smatolookafter,shedeliberated.She’d knowthatowdskinflintwouldn’tspendit.She puthershawlaroundherhead,wentdownthe stairsandlookedoutintothecourt.
DareIgoin?shethought.Iknowwherethey keep’key.Butthen!Shehesitated.Themnew folksoppositemightseeme.Shepeeredacross totheHansons’house.Younglad’llhavegoneto work,butmisterwon’thaveandIdon’tknow abouther.Sheseemsabitsnootybutshe’llsoon
change.Comedownin’worldifshe’sgottolive inthishovel.
Asshestoodmeditating,theHansons’door openedandMrHansoncameoutandstoodon thedoorstep.Hecoughedandspat,glanced aroundandsawherandbrieflynodded.Heput hishandintohisjacketpocketandbroughtout apipe,thenfromtheotherpocketawadof tobacco.
Bessieperkedup.Thatwasalargewad ofbaccy.Shecouldusuallyonlyaffordascrewof scrapsfromthebottomofthetobaccotinwhich, ifthetobaccomerchantwasfeelinggenerous,he wouldselltohercheap.Shewanderedacrossto him.‘G’morning.Badjobaboutthatwoman. Would’vegivenyouafright,shouldn’twonder?’
Henodded.‘Aye.’Hepulledoutstrands oftobaccowithhislefthandwhilstawkwardly balancingthepipewithhisfingerlessright.
‘Doyouwantahandwi’that?’
Heglaredather.‘No!Icanmanage.’
‘Accidentatwork,wasn’tit?’shepersisted, ignoringorunawareofhisirritation.‘Hopeyou gotsomerecompense?By!’Shesniffedappreciatively.‘Thatsmellslikegoodbaccy.’
‘Itis.’Hetampeddownintothebowlbut didn’tlightthetobacco.‘It’smylastwad.Gotto lastmealifetime.’Hethrustthepipetowards her.‘Here,’hesaid.‘Tekasniffatthat,missus.’
Shelookedaskanceathim.Whatwasthegood ofthat?Youcouldtakeasniffatthebaker’sshop butitdidn’tmakeyoulesshungry.Therewere somemean,parsimoniousfolkaboutandhere,it seemed,wasoneofthem.
Bessiewanderedbacktoherowndoorstep. ‘Can’tgointo’Sheppards’housewhilehe’shangingabout,’shemutteredintohershawl.‘AndI bethismissusislookingoutof’window.Nosyold cow.’
Shesatdownonthestepandthoughtabout hermoney,which,sheconsidered,hadbeen stolenfromher,andbyherowndaughter.She lookedoveratthehouseoppositewhereJamie andhismother,Nell,lived.Thedoorwasfirmly shutandtherewasnosoundfromwithin.There wasacurtainatthewindow,theonlyhousein thecourtthatwascurtained,andthattoowas drawn.
‘It’sadisgrace,’shemutteredbetweenherfew clenchedteethasshesuckedontheemptypipe. ‘Notrightforayoungfellalikethattobeplaying ’panderforhismother.’
TherewasnotmuchthatBessiemissed,even thoughshewasoftenaddledwithopium,andshe hadnoobjectiontoNellmakingalivinginthe bestwayshecould,forwasn’tshestillapretty womanwhowasonlyusinghercharmstoher advantage?ButBessiehad,beneathherown cunningandduplicity,athinandhiddenlayer ofrespectability,andasenseofseemlinessof whatwasrightandproper,andJamieprocuring forhismotherwasn’t,inheropinion,atall decent.
SheheardarattlebehindherandMrsPeck cameoutfromherdoor,followedbyaclutchof squawkinghensandadogwhichranoutsideand lifteditslegagainstthepump.Behindher,as Bessiepeeredintoherroom,twochildrensatby
alowfire.MrsPeckwasasmallwoman,similarin sizetoBessiebutyoungerinage,andshetoowas wearingablackshawloveradresswhichhad perhapsoncebeengrey,butwasnowofan indeterminatecolour.Onherheadsheworea handmadetuckedandpleatedbonnet,thekind thatcountrywomenwore.
Thetwowomenexchangedgreetings.‘I’mjust goingtolet’pigout,’MrsPeckremarked.‘I don’tsupposeyou’veanyscrapso’dinnerfor her?’
Bessiesnorted.‘I’vebarelyenoughtofeed missen,letaloneyourpig!’
‘It’saworry.’MrsPeckrubbedherchin. ‘Perhapsweshouldn’thavebroughtherwithus, butIwassurethatI’dbeabletogetleftovers from’neighboursorbaker.AndI’venograinfor ’henseither.’
‘Byheck,missus,whatsortofplacedoyou comefromifyouexpectluxurieslikethat?Folks roundherearehalfstarvedmostof’time.’Bessie easedherselfupfromthedoorstep.‘Bestthing youcandoiskillyonpigandwringhens’necks. Atleastyou’dhaveafewgooddinners.’
‘Why,Ican’tdothat!’MrsPeckwasshocked. ‘That’snotgoodhusbandry.I’dhavenoeggs and,besides,sowwilldropherlitteranytime andI’llsellpigletsonwhenthey’rebigenough.’
‘Well,whydidn’tyoustopwhereyouwas?’ Bessiewasflabbergasted.‘Youcouldhavedone thatin’country!’
‘Butwewereturnedout!’MrsPeck’sbottom liptrembled.‘Itwasatiedfarmcottageand therewasnoworkon’landforMrPeck.That’s
reasonwecametoHull,so’shecouldfindsome otherjob.Ineverwantedtocome.Neverwould havecomeofmyownaccord.WhywouldI? There’snowthereforlikesofmewho’slivedall ofmylifein’country.’
‘Andhashefoundwork?’Bessieasked,already knowingtheanswer.
Herneighbourshookherhead.‘No,notyet.A monthwe’vebeenhereandhe’snotearneda penny.We’veappliedtoGuardians,butthey wouldn’tgiveusowt’cosHull’snotourlegal livingplace.We’vebeentovagrantofficeand theygiveusaloafo’breadandascrewo’teafor ’bairnsandsaidweshouldapplyto’workhouse. ButI’llnotdothat,’shesaidfiercely.‘I’llstarve first.’
‘Thatyouwill,’Bessiesaidsagely.Shehadhad atasteofbothstarvationandtheworkhouse whenherhusbandhadgoneoffandlefther pregnantandwithtwochildren.Itwasn’tuntil hereldestsonhadgonetoseaandshehad foundworkscrubbingfloors,thatshewasableto leavetheworkhouseandfindacheaproomhere inMiddleCourt.
‘TrySculcoatesGuardians,’Bessiecalledafter MrsPeckasshemadeherwaytowardsthe pigpen.‘We’rejuston’edgeof’boundary.You mightgetsummatfromthem,’andthoughshe sawasmallrayofhopeinMrsPeck’sface, sheknewthatthehopewouldprobablynotbe realized.
Shewasfeelinghungry,themorningwas gettingonandshehadn’tyeteatenanything. SheandRubyhaddinedwelllastnightonthe
meatpieandbreadandthejugofale,andthere wasacrustleftifRubyhadn’teatenitbeforeshe wentout.
Atleastmylittleladwillhavehadsomefodder thismorning.ShethoughtofFreddieasshe puffedherwayupstairs.‘Bethehadaniceslice ofbeefandacupo’teaaforehesetoffforwork,’ shemutteredtoherselfasshefrequentlydid whenshewasalone.‘Imustaskmissusdownstairswhereshethinkshemighthavegonein ’country.There’llbelotsofbighouses,Iexpect. That’swhereall’toffsgooncethey’vemadetheir moneyoutofusin’town.’
Therewasn’tanybread,andshefumbledin herskirtpocketforsomeofthechangeleftover fromthesixpenceRubyhadgivenher.There weretwopennies,andshesatdownfora momenttoconsider.Shouldshebuyapenny loaf?Rubywouldbesopleasedwithherifshe did.Orshouldshegototheapothecary’sand buyatincture?Shegaveashiverandpulledher shawlclosertoher.Itwaswarmeroutsidethanit wasin.Shelookedatherhandsandsawthe tremorinthem.Itwastheremoreoftenthannot thesedays.
‘I’llgotoapothecary,’shedecided.‘NoI won’t!NottoMrCookeanyway.Hediddledme yesterday,I’msureofit.Chargedmetoomuch, and’,shegrousedasshepulledonheroldboots, ‘heonnygavemecordial.Huh!ThinksIdon’t know’difference!No,I’llgoto’grocerfora pennortho’loddy.That’llsetmeupfor’dayand I’llbuyapennyloafaswell.’
Shecameoutofherroomandlookedupas
sheheardthescrapeofthetrapdooraboveher. Aman’sheadpeeredout.
‘Don’tcomeoutyet,’Bessiecroakedina hoarsewhisper.‘Missusdownstairs’llseeyou. She’sjustgoneouttoseeto’pig.’
‘Can’thelpthat.’MrBlakepulledonthe ropethatheldtheladderandhauledittowardshim.‘I’mfairbustingforprivyandsoare ’bairns.’Pail’soverflowingandwecan’twaitany longer.’
Heclimbedhalfwaydownandthenreachedup theladdertotakeawoodenpailwithstinking slopsfromhiswife,whowasleaningdownfrom thetrapdoor.Ashetookitfromhersomeofthe contentsspilledoutontothefloor.
‘Privy’snotbeenemptiedforweeks,’Bessie commentedandwatchedasMrsBlakeandthen twochildrenclimbeddown.
‘Where’s’otherbabby?’sheasked.
‘Sick,’MrsBlakesaidwearily.‘I’velefthim sleeping.’
‘Hecan’tcrawlout,canhe?’Bessiegazedupat theopentrapdoorandponderedthatthechild wouldbreakhisheadifhefellout.
MrsBlakeshookherhead.‘He’snotgot ’strength,poorlittlemite.I’mjustoffto’vagrant officetobegforsomemilkforhim.’Hermouth turneddown.‘IfIdon’tgetsomesoon,thenhe’ll notlast’weekout.’
Bessiefingeredthetwocoinsinherpocket. Shewasdesperateforherlaudanum,the tremblinginherlimbswasincreasingbythe minuteand,ifshedidn’tgetreliefsoon,she’d bescreaming.Shehesitated,thenpulledouta