Mermaids Singing Page 18

  ‘Oh, Kitty, don’t you shout at me,’ sobbed Betty. ‘I know what you say is true but I haven’t got the strength to drag my body from this bed.’

  Clutching the piece of gold, Kitty felt tears burn the back of her eyelids. The thought of parting with her half of the coin was as painful as losing an arm or leg, but she couldn’t stand by and see Jem’s mother fading away through lack of food and warmth. She knew exactly what she must do.

  Old Sparks, the pawnbroker, peered at her over the top of his steel-rimmed specs as he held the piece of coin between his thumb and forefinger. When he opened his mouth to bite the gold, Kitty caught a waft of foul breath from blackened and broken teeth. ‘I’ll give you a florin, young Kitty,’ he said. ‘Not a penny more.’

  ‘But it’s worth more than that.’

  ‘Not to me it ain’t. Cutting coins of the realm in half is against the law, don’t you know that? I’ll give you two shillings for scrap and that’s my last word.’

  Reluctantly Kitty held out her hand.

  ‘I wouldn’t let Sid Cable know you’ve got money,’ Sparks said as he dropped the coins onto her palm. ‘You been home yet, young ’un?’

  Kitty shook her head, closing her fingers over the metal, and feeling a cold shiver run down her spine. ‘No, why?’

  ‘Word gets round,’ Sparks said, tapping the side of his nose with a grimy finger poking out of a black mitten, ‘and it ain’t good.’

  Icy fingers of fear clutched at Kitty’s heart as she left the pawnshop. Bowing her head in the face of the nagging east wind, she hurried along the quay wall. The tea-coloured water of the Thames was pockmarked with sleet and it rattled off the decks of boats moored alongside. Passing Tanner’s Passage Kitty broke into a run, her anxiety for Maggie and the children overcoming her terror of coming face to face with Sid. Her footsteps echoed eerily in the dark passage that opened out into Sugar Yard, but there was no one about and she entered the building unseen. She raced up the stairs, her feet crunching on the carapaces of scuttling cockroaches. She stopped outside the door, pressing her ear against the keyhole, listening for the sound of voices. Satisfied that if Maggie was there, she was alone, Kitty turned the handle and went inside.

  Stuffing her hand in her mouth to stifle a cry of horror, Kitty threw herself down on her knees beside Maggie, who lay on the box bed, like a broken doll. Her face was so bruised, bloody and swollen that she was almost unrecognisable. For a terrible moment Kitty thought she was dead.

  ‘Maggie, Maggie, speak to me,’ Kitty cried, chafing her lifeless hands. ‘Oh, Maggie, please don’t be dead.’

  Maggie’s eyelids fluttered and a small sigh escaped from her swollen lips; a trickle of blood oozed from the corner of her mouth.

  ‘Thank God,’ Kitty cried, leaping to her feet. She grabbed a pitcher of water from the table and poured some into a tin cup. Kneeling at Maggie’s side, she lifted her head and held the cup to her lips.

  Maggie gulped thirstily, spilling more water than she managed to swallow. ‘Kitty?’

  ‘I’m here, Maggie,’ Kitty said, hugging Maggie and rocking her like a baby. ‘Poor Maggie, what has that wicked sod done to you?’

  Maggie struggled to sit upright, staring around the room, wide-eyed and trembling. ‘Where is Harry?’

  Muffled sobs from the children’s room made Kitty leap to her feet. Flinging the door open, she found Harry sitting in the middle of the mattress, clutching a piece of rag to his mouth. He had wet himself in his fright and he stared at her with big, scared eyes, like some small wild animal.

  Sweeping him up in her arms, Kitty cuddled him, ignoring his sodden, smelly baby dress. ‘Harry, it’s me, Kitty.’

  He had stopped crying but dry sobs wracked his small body. ‘There, there,’ Kitty said, carrying him back into the living room. ‘Kitty’s here now. Everything will be all right.’ She picked her way through the debris of smashed crockery and the splintered remains of a wooden chair. ‘Where are the nippers, Maggie?’

  ‘Sid hadn’t come home last night. I’d just sent them off to school when he came in roaring drunk. He wanted money but there weren’t none. I don’t remember much else.’

  Kitty was silent for a moment, staring around her and wondering how she ever lived in such disgusting conditions. The air was stale and thick with the smell of mildew and mice droppings; she could hear rats scuttling around behind the skirting boards. She turned back to Maggie, who lay on the straw mattress looking more like a skeleton than a woman not yet twenty-five. Fear turned to white-hot rage, boiling inside her. ‘I’m taking you away from this dreadful place and from him forever, Maggie.’

  ‘It’s no good, Kitty,’ Maggie said, closing her eyes. ‘He’d seek us out and he’d kill me.’

  ‘He’s killing you now,’ Kitty said, rubbing her cheek on Harry’s downy head. ‘I’ll not leave you again. You’re coming with me to Betty’s house and I’ll fetch the kids from school.’

  ‘He’ll find us for sure.’

  ‘If Sid comes near the place, I’ll go to the police and tell them it was him that raped me. I’ll see him in jail before I’ll let you spend another minute in this midden.’

  ‘I daren’t, Kitty,’ Maggie said, struggling to a sitting position. ‘How will you feed and clothe us all? We’ll end up in the workhouse.’

  ‘Never,’ Kitty said, shaking her head. ‘You’re coming with me.’

  With Kitty’s help, Maggie managed to walk as far as Betty’s house before she collapsed in the hallway. With Harry sucking his thumb and perched on her hip, Kitty went to the kitchen to break the news to Maria, whose initial angry reaction dissolved into one of shock when she saw Maggie.

  ‘Good God above,’ Maria said, hooking Maggie’s arm around her shoulder. ‘What a state you’re in!’ She hoisted Maggie to her feet. ‘Come into the kitchen and let’s have a look at those cuts and bruises. Kitty, you’d better go upstairs and speak to Betty. It’s her house, when all’s said and done.’

  Taking Harry with her, Kitty went up to Betty’s room. She appeared to be sleeping but, on hearing Kitty’s footsteps, she opened her eyes. Kitty explained briefly what had happened.

  ‘Them poor little mites,’ Betty said, snapping upright in her bed. ‘Living with an evil brute like Sid Cable. Put Maggie to bed in the boxroom, Kitty. I’ll get dressed and fetch the children from school.’

  Untangling Harry’s stubby fingers from her hair, Kitty stared anxiously at Betty. ‘You haven’t eaten a proper meal for weeks. Are you sure you can walk that far?’

  ‘Yes, and further still if it means bringing the little ones to safety,’ Betty said, two bright dots of colour flaming her cheeks as she swung her legs over the side of the bed. ‘Just let Sid Cable come knocking on my door and he’ll be sorry, that’s all I can say.’

  Bella came home that evening looking pale and exhausted. She was almost bowled over by seven-year-old Frankie, who had just tumbled down the stairs. Kitty came out of the kitchen, gave him a playful cuff round the ear, and told him to go and play in the back yard with the others.

  Maria and Betty were in the middle of cooking supper, having spent Kitty’s florin on groceries at the corner shop. Revived by a cup of hot, sweet tea, Bella sat at the table and listened, wide-eyed with horror, as they told her of Maggie’s plight.

  ‘Of course we must look after them,’ Bella said, reaching out and clasping Kitty’s hand. ‘That man is a beast and it’s up to us to keep Maggie and the children safe.’

  ‘I agree,’ Maria said, stirring a pan of soup. ‘But Gawd knows how we’re going to live.’

  ‘Well, there’s my good news,’ Bella said, smiling. ‘I’ve got bottom billing at the Aldgate Palace of Varieties.’

  Kitty jumped up to hug her and Betty clapped her hands.

  Maria frowned. ‘Bottom of the bill? You were top of the bill before.’

  ‘It’s a start,’ Bella said calmly. ‘The only problem is, I need a costume.’

  Maria slammed the lid on the sauce
pan. ‘When do you start?’

  ‘Tomorrow night! I need a costume by tomorrow night.’

  ‘That’s impossible,’ Maria said. ‘We’ve nothing left to pawn and not a decent gown between us.’

  ‘You could make a dress for Bella,’ Kitty said, looking hopefully at Betty.

  ‘The rheumatics have made me clumsy,’ Betty said, looking down at her swollen fingers. ‘I don’t think I can hold a needle any more. But perhaps I could cut a pattern, if we had some material.’

  ‘And Maria and I can sew the seams,’ Kitty said, eagerly. ‘You’ve got a box full of scraps of ribbon and lace, Betty.’

  Betty’s eyes brightened for a moment and then she sighed, shaking her head. ‘We need more than scraps, Kitty.’

  ‘I’ve nothing left of value,’ Bella said, staring down at her bare fingers. ‘My wedding ring went before Christmas and my gold earrings.’

  Betty tugged at the band of gold on her left hand, sucking her finger and grimacing with pain as she wrenched it over her swollen knuckle. She laid the ring on the table. ‘You’ve been good to me since our Poll passed away, and it’s time I did something for you. We should get a few shillings for this and that should be enough to get a bolt of taffeta from the market. I can cut, if all of you can help with the stitching, and we’ll send Bella off in style.’

  Maria glanced at the clock on the mantelshelf. ‘Leave it to me. I know what colours suit Bella the best. If I hurry I can just catch the market before they pack up for the night.’

  ‘We’ll feed the nippers and then put them straight to bed,’ Betty said, rolling up her sleeves in a businesslike manner. ‘Heaven knows, they all need a bath and clean clothes, but I think they’ve had enough upset for today. But tomorrow, Kitty, we’ll put the tin bath in front of the fire and give them a good scrub.’

  Nodding her head, Kitty’s heart swelled with love and pride as she struggled to find the words to thank Betty for her generosity and to praise her courage, but she realised then that sometimes words were simply not enough, and she gave Betty a hug.

  The kitchen table disappeared beneath yards of pink taffeta. Betty cut the material with a skilful hand, and Maria, Bella and Kitty sat up all night, tacking and sewing seams until their eyes watered and their fingers were sore. By early morning they had fitted, altered and stitched the basic shape of a dress that clung to Bella’s shapely body, emphasising her tiny waist and accentuating her breasts, with the aid of a few ruffles sewn into the lining. Bella was sent upstairs to bed so that she would be fresh for the evening performance, while Kitty and Maria put the finishing touches to the gown. When Bella came downstairs, refreshed after her nap, Kitty was thrilled to see a bit of the old sparkle as Bella tried on the rustling pink gown. Showing it off, she did a succession of twirls and Kitty sensed that the real Bella would go out on stage and charm the audience just as she had in the past.

  In the late afternoon, Bella and Maria set off for Aldgate with the dress stowed into a bolster case. Kitty stood in the doorway, watching them striding purposefully along the street. A thick fog was swirling in on the tide, gobbling them up even before they reached the corner. They were gone, Kitty thought, like two small soldiers, gallant fighters, marching to war in the battle for survival.

  Closing the door against the chilling, smoke-laden fog, Kitty could hear the children’s protests as Betty carried out her threat to bath them before she allowed them to sleep one more night in her clean beds. The howls and screams rose to an ear-splitting crescendo as Kitty opened the kitchen door. Naked and shivering, Frankie and Charlie were huddled in the tin bath in front of the range, protesting loudly as Betty sluiced them down with jugs of fast-cooling water. The room was cloudy with steam, laced with the odour of carbolic soap.

  ‘Don’t be a baby, Frankie Cable,’ Betty said, as Frankie screamed that there was soap in his eyes. She scooped another jug of water from the pan on the range and tipped it over his head. ‘Give me a hand, Kitty, and rub soap into young Charlie’s hair.’

  Chuckling and ignoring Frankie’s pleas for help, Kitty set to work scrubbing Charlie while Betty dragged a fine-tooth comb through Frankie’s hair. Having already undergone the torture, Billy, Violet and Harry huddled together on a chair. Wrapped in towels, they watched wide-eyed as their brothers suffered the indignity of being bathed and deloused. Violet’s long hair had been shorn and it stuck up in spikes giving her the appearance of a baby hedgehog. She sat sucking her thumb and hugging a doll.

  ‘You gave Polly’s doll to our Violet?’ Kitty said, tipping the last of the warm water over Charlie’s head.

  Betty jumped backwards as Frankie leapt from the bath, shaking himself and sending spray everywhere. Laughing, she tossed a towel at him. ‘Yes, it was Poll’s but I know she would want Violet to have it.’

  ‘I wants me clothes,’ Frankie said, sticking out his chin. ‘You got no right to pinch ’em, lady.’

  Kitty took him by the shoulders, gave him a shake, and then kissed him on the cheek, laughing as he pulled away, making a face. ‘Where’s your manners? It’s Mrs Scully to you.’

  ‘Your clothes are in the washhouse and tomorrow they’ll be boiled in the copper,’ Betty said, picking a pile of shirts from the dresser. ‘These belonged to my son Jem who is a sailor now, just like his pa. Put these on and maybe I’ll tell you some of the sea stories that my Herbert used to tell Jem.’

  Violet unplugged her thumb from her mouth. ‘Did he see mermaids?’

  ‘Don’t talk soft,’ Frankie said. ‘That’s girls’ stuff.’

  Betty hooked a shirt over his head and ruffled his damp hair. ‘I expect pirates and sea monsters are more your cup of tea then, Frankie.’

  ‘I expects they might be,’ Frankie said, shrugging his shoulders.

  ‘Then I might just have a story that would suit you all,’ Betty said, taking Violet on her knee and slipping a cotton nightie over her head.

  Kitty guessed that the nightdress had belonged to Polly, but she kept her own counsel as she dragged a shirt over Billy’s wet head.

  ‘It ain’t bedtime,’ Frankie said, folding his arms across his chest. ‘We don’t go to bed until our mam does.’

  ‘Frankie, be quiet.’ Kitty said, frowning. ‘Maggie is sick in bed and you’ve got to be a good boy.’

  ‘Is our mam going to die?’ asked Charlie, his bottom lip quivering.

  ‘Of course not,’ Betty said, setting Violet down on the floor. ‘But she needs rest and quiet. If you all creep upstairs like little mice, you can sleep in the big bed in my best bedroom and I’ll tell you a story about mermaids, sea monsters and pirates too.’ Taking Harry and Violet by the hand, Betty winked at Kitty as she led the children out of the kitchen.

  ‘Be good for Mrs Scully,’ Kitty called, as she heard their scampering steps on the stairs and muffled laughter. After what they had been through it seemed almost miraculous that they could still laugh and play about like ordinary children. At least now they were safe under one roof, she thought, as she began to tidy up the kitchen.

  With five more mouths to feed she would have to find employment, even if it meant working long hours for low pay, in the match or glue factory. Her dream of working up West in a dress shop seemed to be slipping further and further away. Kitty sighed, as she emptied the tin bath, jug by jug, pouring the dirty water speckled with dead fleas and lice into the clay sink, she would achieve her ambition one day; it would just take a bit longer, that was all.

  The sound of someone crashing on the iron door-knocker made her drop the enamel jug into the tin bath, splashing water all over her skirt. Kitty’s hand flew to her throat as she recognised Sid’s voice, shouting for Maggie. She ran into the hall and stood by the door, trembling violently as each vicious clout from Sid’s fists shook the timbers.

  ‘Open up! I know she’s in there. I’ll not budge without Maggie and the kids.’

  ‘Get away from here,’ Kitty screamed. ‘Go away before I call for a copper.’

  The door
shuddered as if Sid had put his shoulder to the wood. ‘I might have guessed you was to blame for this, bitch.’

  ‘You’ll never see Maggie or the nippers again,’ Kitty cried, backing towards the stairs.

  ‘Just wait till I gets me hands on you,’ Sid roared, kicking the door.

  Kitty watched the timbers shiver and shake, screaming as the toe of Sid’s boot broke through a rotting door panel. Her throat constricted with terror at the thought of what he would do if he managed to get into the house. She had to get help before it was too late, but that meant leaving the house and finding a bobby on the beat. Sid was kicking the door in and there was no time to think of her own safety. Praying that Betty, Maggie and the children would not hear the racket and be terrified, Kitty ran through the kitchen, out of the back door and into the yard. Yanking at the rusty bolt on the back gate, she ran into the alley that divided the back-to-back buildings.

  It led into Tanner’s Passage, just a few doors away from Betty’s house. As she reached the street Kitty paused, gasping for breath. She peeped around the corner and saw Sid slamming his fist against the door of number seven. Curtains twitched at windows in the street, doors opened but were quickly closed again. No one came out to find out who was shouting and roaring like a madman. Almost as if he sensed her presence, Sid looked round just as she decided to make a run for it and, with a guttural snarl, he gave chase. She could hear his boots pounding on the cobbles, getting closer and closer, as she hurtled along the passage.

  Reaching the main street, she turned instinctively towards the part of the river that she knew best, running until her heart and lungs felt as though they were about to burst. Was the pounding in her head the muffled sound of Sid’s footsteps or the laboured drumming of her heartbeat? Even though Kitty knew every inch of the wharf and the fish dock, she was lost and disorientated by the fog that muffled all sound, dimming lights and making it impossible to see the edge of the quay wall. She didn’t spot the bollard until it was too late and, leaping aside to miss it, Kitty caught her foot in a coiled rope and sprawled headlong on the ground. Winded and gasping to catch her breath, she tried to raise herself, clutching at nothing. Immediately below her, the black water of the Thames, veiled in swirling fog, sucked greedily at the stanchions.