The Cockney Sparrow (13 page)

He went into the pub and the door swung shut with a bang.

‘Do you know that young man?’ Augustus asked, peering at Clemency through the pouring rain and in the fractured beams of the gaslight.

‘Daddy, does it matter?’ Lucilla scrambled to her feet, holding the bloodstained rag. ‘Who cares if that tart has slept with all the publicans in
London? My Tom has lost all his front teeth. He’ll never play the flute again.’

Even allowing for Lucilla’s habit of exaggeration, next morning it was apparent to everyone in the lodging house that Tom’s musical career had ended. His features bore a strong resemblance to a joint of topside rather than a human face. He had two black eyes, his head looked more box-shaped than round, and his lips were swollen to twice their normal size. His front teeth were missing, and as he found it almost impossible to speak, no one liked to ask him if he had swallowed them or had spat them onto the taproom floor for the cleaning woman to find in the morning. One of the ballet dancers suggested that Swipey Sam might have had them strung into a necklace. This remark sent Lucilla off into a bout of hysterics and Mrs Blunt thumped the kitchen table with a wooden spoon, calling for order.

‘I won’t have ruffians lodging in my house. This is a respectable establishment, Mr Throop. If he’s going to cause trouble,’ she said, pointing the spoon at Tom, ‘he’ll have to go. And that goes for the lot of you, ladies excepted.’

‘I can assure you, madam,’ Augustus said, with dignity, ‘that the disturbance in the public house was not of our making.’

‘Yes, you old cow,’ Lucilla said, scrunching her
face into a mean look. ‘Tom was defending my honour.’

‘Honour! That’s a laugh.’ Fancy wiggled her hips in a suggestive manner. ‘I heard tell as how you lost your honour when you was twelve.’

Lucilla let out a loud screech. ‘Daddy! Are you going to let that slut from the foundling hospital talk to me like that?’ She flung her arms around her father’s neck and began to sob loudly.

Fancy snorted and stood with arms akimbo, as if daring Augustus to take her on. The five O’Malley brothers, burly Irishmen who worked as navigators digging out the tunnels for the underground railways, and three stevedores who had just come off the night shift at the London Dock, all stopped eating and were watching the scene with evident enjoyment, as if anticipating an all-female, hair-pulling, bodice-ripping contest. The two dancers from the Pavilion theatre, and the young lady type-writer who worked in a bank, had ranged themselves behind Fancy. Mrs Blunt stood in the middle, bristling and rolling up her sleeves as though she intended to throw them all out onto the streets.

Clemency went to stand behind Jack, who was sitting on the chair at the head of the table. As she rested her hands on his shoulders, she could feel his muscles tensed and vibrating like a clock spring. She knew she had to say something to calm the situation. She gave Jack’s shoulders a
gentle squeeze and cleared her throat. ‘It’s true, Mrs Blunt. Tom was standing up for Lucilla. A randy old sod was making comments that would have made any man want to punch his lights out.’

The O’Malley brothers murmured in agreement, and the stevedores nodded wisely as they munched their bread and cold meat. The girls moved away from Fancy, as if distancing themselves from her and her opinions.

‘Well, we must give the young man some credit then,’ Mrs Blunt said, nodding. ‘But I’ll thank you all to remember my rules. No fighting, no spitting and no hanky-panky under my roof.’

‘Well said, Mrs Blunt.’

A voice from the top of the stairs caused everyone to turn their heads and stare at the well-dressed man who had entered through the baize door, unseen and unheard in the uproar.

‘Mr Stone!’ Mrs Blunt gasped, her thin face flushing red and then paling to ashen.

Clemency’s hands dropped to her sides. She could not move or speak. She stared in horror as Jared Stone came slowly and purposefully down the staircase. She had put the memory of their first meeting firmly out of her mind, but it came back to her now in a wave of anger and revulsion. She stared at him, taking in the details of his charcoal-grey frock coat with its black-velvet collar and cuffs, his tapered, pinstripe
trousers and the starched wing collar of his white shirt. He had removed his top hat and his kid gloves, and his hair gleamed blue-black in the gaslight.

Mrs Blunt rushed to the foot of the stairs, wiping her hands on her apron. ‘I wasn’t expecting you, sir. Is anything wrong? Has there been a complaint about the way I runs this house?’

Jared paused on the bottom step. ‘Not that I know of, Mrs Blunt.’

‘I’ve paid me rent. On the dot.’

‘I haven’t come about the rent. I leave that to my agent.’

‘Then, sir, if I may be so bold as to ask, why have you come?’

‘You’re probably aware that I own a couple of the properties on this side of the street?’ Jared cast a dispassionate glance around the room. His question was met with total silence. Clemency held her breath, praying that he would not recognise her.

‘I am, sir,’ Mrs Blunt said, plainly agitated.

‘Thanks to the machinations of the Ripper, property prices in this area are falling. I’ve decided to sell up, before values drop even lower. One more murder and I won’t be able to give these buildings away.’

‘No, sir. No, please don’t sell this house. It’s me livelihood and me home, sir.’ Mrs Blunt sank to
her knees in front of him, clutching at his coattails.

A ripple of consternation went round the room. Clemency gripped Jack’s shoulders so hard that he looked up at her, his face puckered with concern, and he patted her hand. ‘Are you all right, Clemmie?’

She managed a wobbly smile and nodded. The last thing she wanted was to draw Stone’s attention to them, even though he seemed fully occupied as he attempted to free himself from Mrs Blunt’s frantic grasp.

‘Please, madam. Control yourself.’

‘It’s all right for you, mate.’ The eldest of the O’Malley brothers got up from the table and shook his fist at Stone. ‘But what about the likes of us honest, hard-working men? After a day’s digging out the London clay, all we wants is a hot meal and a clean bed for the night.’

‘It’s right he is.’ The youngest, and usually most talkative, O’Malley brother jumped to his feet. ‘And that ain’t so easy to find round these parts. Ma Blunt might be a stickler for the rules but it’s a fine cook she is. Sure, you’d be hard put to find any bugs in the beds here.’

Stone held up his hand for silence as everyone began to speak at once. ‘I’m pleased to hear that I have such a good tenant in Mrs Blunt. But I’m sure you will all find alternative accommodation, and that is your problem, not mine.’

‘Oh, please, sir.’ Mrs Blunt sobbed, shaking her head so that pins shot out of her bun, flying in all directions like small arrows. ‘Don’t do this to us. Won’t you reconsider?’

‘It’s a business matter, Mrs Blunt. Nothing personal. My inspection is to ascertain the value of each property. In future you will be dealing with my agent. We will not meet again.’ Stone flicked his coat free and started back up the staircase. Halfway up, he paused, looking down at the grumbling lodgers. Clemency tried to hide behind Augustus, but it was too late. She saw a gleam of recognition in Stone’s eyes. He pointed at her. ‘You, girl. Come here.’

‘No, Clemmie.’ Jack twisted round to clasp her hand. ‘Don’t do it. He can’t make you.’

She was not so sure about that. Clemency lifted her chin and met Stone’s gaze with an unflinching stare. He beckoned to her, but she shook her head.

‘I said, come here, Miss Skinner.’

Augustus turned to her with a curious glance. ‘Do you know this fellow, Clem?’

‘Never set eyes on the cove in me life.’ Clemency stood firm, determined not to go near Jared Stone ever again. Just as it seemed she had won the battle of wills, the baize door opened and Edith wandered through it, standing at the top of the stairs with a bewildered look on her face. Clemency sucked in her breath; she could
tell by Ma’s unkempt appearance, and the dark shadows beneath her eyes that she must have got hold of liquor last night, and this morning she was much the worse for wear. Clemency could almost smell the stale gin on her breath, even from this distance.

‘What’s going on?’ Edith leaned over the banister rail, waving her hand at Clemency. ‘What’s going on? I could hear the din from the top of the house. And me head’s aching something awful.’ She went to pass Jared on the stairs, but he caught her by the arm.

‘Do you know that girl?’

‘Know her?’ Edith’s head wobbled on her neck, as if she could not quite support its weight. Her lips curved in a tipsy smile. ‘I should say I know her. Clemmie’s me daughter.’

Jared kept his hold on Edith and he beckoned to Clemency. This time, there was no refusing him. She started forward but Jack caught her by the hand.

‘Don’t,’ he said in an undertone.

‘Let me go. There’s nothing to worry about,’ Clemency replied with more confidence than she was feeling. ‘I can look after meself.’

‘You have to, because I can’t.’ Jack’s tone was bitter. ‘I’d give anything to be able to walk across the floor and demand to know what that bastard wants with me sister.’

Fancy pushed one of the ballet dancers out of
her way in her hurry to reach Jack. She laid her hand on his shoulder and nodded to Clemency. A flash of understanding passed between them. Their tacit agreement needed no words to seal the bargain. Clemency knew then that Fancy would stand by Jack, no matter what.

‘Let me go.’ Edith slapped ineffectually at Jared with her free hand.

‘What’s to become of me?’ Mrs Blunt wailed.

Jared ignored them both. He stood, immobile as his name, waiting for Clemency to make her way through the now silent onlookers. As she mounted the stairs, he released Edith, who staggered and clutched Clemency’s arm. ‘Don’t go near the brute. I seen his type afore, Clemmie. He’s a bad ’un.’

‘He won’t hurt me, Ma. You look after Mrs B. She’s in a bit of a state.’

Edith opened her mouth to argue, but a warning look from Clemency silenced her.

Augustus and Ronnie, followed by the O’Malleys with their sleeves rolled up and their hands fisted, advanced across the floor to stand at the foot of the stairs.

‘We don’t want trouble, mister.’ Augustus put his foot on the bottom step, glaring up at Jared. ‘But harm one hair of that young person’s head and you’ll have us to deal with.’

Jared took Clemency by the hand. ‘No harm will come to Miss Skinner. I suggest you all get
about your business, or you men will be needing to look for new jobs as well as new homes.’

‘What do you want with me?’ Clemency demanded, as he led her to the top of the stairs.

Jared opened the baize door. ‘Come out into the passage where it’s quiet and we can talk.’

‘I’ve nothing to say to a scoundrel like you.’ Clemency wrenched her hand from his grasp. ‘You may look and sound like a gent, but I ain’t forgot that you tried to keep me against me will. And you threw that poor girl out onto the street, just because she was in the family way.’

‘You should get your facts straight before you come out with such wild accusations.’

‘You may talk like a lawyer, but you’re just a magsman. A common criminal done up like a toff. You’re nothing but a crook.’

Jared threw back his head and laughed. The sound echoed off the high ceilings, bounced off the cornices and dissipated up the stair well. ‘It takes one to know one, my dear.’

‘I ain’t on the dip now. I’ve given all that up.’ She eyed him suspiciously. ‘What d’you want with me? And how did you know I was here?’

‘I had no idea that you were here. It wasn’t until I saw that flaming-red mop of yours that I realised I had found you. Do you realise, Miss Clemency Skinner, that I’ve been looking for you ever since you ran off as if the devil himself was after you?’

‘You might be the devil for all I know.’

‘You aren’t a bit afraid of me, are you, Clemency?’

‘I ain’t afraid of no one, least of all a dandified cove with a big mouth.’

He ruffled her hair. ‘You’re a bold one and that’s exactly why I want you to come and work for me. I could train you to dip the pockets at fashionable gatherings, theatres and racecourses. With a few fine feathers and some lessons in manners, I could even pass you off as a lady.’

Clemency angled her head, studying his aquiline features for the first time. He was not exactly handsome, but he had the aristocratic looks of a toff, and the voice to match. When he smiled, he was actually quite passable looking, but she neither liked nor trusted him. ‘Why would a toff like you need to steal off other rich folk?’

‘Owning property in Spitalfields is more of a burden than a boon. As to the other – I do it for my own enjoyment. I don’t think of it as stealing, more the redistribution of wealth. I take from the rich and give to the poor and needy. What do you say, Clemency? Are you with me? I could turn you into a young lady.’

‘You,’ Clemency said, cocking a snook at him, ‘can kiss my arse.’ She had the satisfaction of seeing the smile wiped off his face. She turned on her heel and slammed through the baize door.

In the kitchen, she found Edith squatting on the floor by the prostrate figure of Mrs Blunt, while Fancy wafted the burning tail feathers of a boiling fowl beneath Mrs Blunt’s nose. There was no sign of the O’Malley brothers or the dockers, who had all apparently escaped through the door that led into the area. The dancers and the lady type-writer, twittering like caged birds, hurried past Clemency and made their way up the stairs. Augustus and Ronnie were seated at one of the tables, in deep conversation with Jack, and Tom sat glumly, peering at them from beneath his swollen eyelids. Unusually silent, Lucilla sat by his side holding his hand.

Fancy looked up and scowled at Clemency as she descended the staircase. ‘You keep fine company, I must say.’ She dropped the burning feathers on the flagstones and stamped on them. ‘But I suppose you’ll be all right. When we’re all thrown out on the street, you’ll be living with your fancy bloke.’

‘You’re the only fancy one round here,’ Clemency shot back at her, ‘and he ain’t my bloke.’