A Mother's Courage (24 page)

'Have a slice of bread and butter, ducks,' Gertie
said, spearing a piece of bread on the tip of the
knife and waving it in front of Eloise's nose. 'You
look as though you could do with a good meal.'

'Thank you, but Peg gave me some earlier,'
Eloise said, eyeing the bread hungrily but she
could not in all conscience take any more of
the hard-earned food. 'You're very kind, Mrs
Tranter. I mean, Gertie.'

'We all have to look out for each other in these
parts, love. If you stay here for any length of
time, you'll come to know that for a fact.'

'No, really. I mean, I'm truly grateful for breakfast,
but I cannot stay. We have to move on.'

'And where will you go?' Peg demanded,
taking a seat opposite Eloise at the table. 'You're
done in and you won't get far in that state. You
can stay here until you're fit enough to travel.
Ain't that so, Ma?'

Gertie pulled on a bonnet similar to the one
Peg had just discarded. She tied the tattered
ribbons beneath her chin and reached for her
leather apron. 'If you don't mind sleeping on the
floor in here, then you can stay as long as you
like, girl. That bloke Pike won't think to look for
you in a dust yard, and I daresay as how Cyril
will find you work when you're strong enough,
so you can earn a bit of money to see you on your
way. We look after our own here. You'll learn
that afore long, Ellie.'

When Gertie had left for the dust yard, Peg
showed Eloise where they fetched water from a
communal pump at the rear of the cottages.
There was a stone trough where they washed
clothes and dishes and did their ablutions, and
two outside privies set side by side in wooden
huts which also served the whole community.
Peg explained that the women took it in turns to
keep them clean and the night soil collector came
round every day to empty them. Eloise helped
Peg to wash the dishes and to stack them neatly
on the dresser. After tidying the kitchen, Peg
went into the back room to sleep. Eloise had
noted their sleeping arrangements as she went
through to the back yard, and she was even more
impressed with the strength and fortitude of the
family who slept top to toe on straw-filled
palliasses, which in the morning were rolled
neatly away. How they managed to keep so
cheerful in such harsh conditions, Eloise did not
know, but she was filled with admiration.

Eloise sat in the rocking chair by the fireplace,
but no matter how hard she tried to keep awake
so that she could watch over the children, her
eyelids were heavy and she kept drifting off into
a fitful sleep. She would never normally have left
a five-year-old in charge of Joss and Beth, but
Cora seemed old for her years and was obviously
used to looking after Daisy. Every time she
dragged herself back to consciousness, Eloise
discovered that Cora was completely in charge.
She was stricter with Joss than any adult nanny
and she bossed him about shamelessly, which he
took in good part. She marshalled the younger
children with the skill of a small general and she
even included Beth in her games. Eventually
Eloise relaxed enough to slip into a deep sleep
and awakened to find Peg riddling the ashes in
the grate and preparing to relight the fire.

'I'm sorry,' Eloise murmured, rubbing her
eyes. 'I didn't mean to let the fire go out.'

'Don't worry about it,' Peg said, grinning. 'I've
only just got up meself. I'll make a pot of tea and
then we'll see about supper. Ma and the boys
will be home in half an hour or so, and they'll be
starving as usual.'

Eloise watched Peg's deft movements as she
urged the fire back into life. 'I don't know how
you keep so cheerful, Peg. I mean, you have to
work so hard in that awful place.'

'It's just the way things are. I'm used to it and I
don't know no different. If I'd been born a lady
who works in a shop up West, or a clever person
with book learning who had worked in an office,
then I might not be content. As it is, we've got
enough to eat and a roof over our heads. We got
each other and we got the other families who
work in the dust yard as friends. It ain't so bad
once you get used to the smell, the flies, rats and
dirt. I can think of worse jobs.'

Eloise did not answer this. She could barely
think of anything more awful than to work in
such a place, but she did not want to hurt Peg's
feelings. She held her arms out to Beth, who had
tired of being bossed by Cora and was crawling
over to the safety of her mother's lap. Eloise
picked her up, giving her a loving hug.

Peg sat back on her haunches. 'So what are you
going to do, Ellie? You know you can stay here as
long as you want.'

Eloise rubbed her cheek against Beth's hair,
holding her close. 'I need to find work, and cheap
lodgings.'

'And you need to steer clear of that Pike
fellow.'

'Yes, that most of all.'

'Well, it's up to you, of course, but I suggest
you ask Cyril for work on the dust heap. You
need to keep out of sight until your face goes
back to normal. It's a dead giveaway, if you don't
mind me saying. If your old master lets on to
Pike that you got two black eyes and a split lip,
it's going to make it that much easier for him to
find you. And I daresay you ain't got much
money left, so you haven't got a lot of choices.'

Eloise nodded her head. What Peg said was
quite true. 'If your mother doesn't mind, then I
will stay, and I'm not afraid of hard work.'

'Good. We'll make a sifter of you yet, Ellie.'

If Eloise had admired the Tranters before she
started work in the dust yard, her respect for
them quadrupled after a day of backbreaking toil
in conditions that were like something out of a
dreadful nightmare. Cyril had given her a job as
sifter, working alongside Peg, her mother and
half a dozen other women and girls at the base of
a huge dust heap. Jimmy shovelled dust into the
women's sieves and they worked in a constant
fog of fine particles, almost as thick as a peasouper,
and even smellier. Within minutes their
hands and faces were blackened, making them
look like chimney sweeps. The grit found its way
into Eloise's eyes and mouth; it clogged her nose
and she kept scraping her knuckles and making
them bleed, but there was no time to stop and the
blood congealed in dark red scabs. Her back
ached and the muscles in her legs went into
painful cramps as she bent over her work. The
other women kept up a cheerful stream of banter
and lewd jokes that made Eloise blush, but at
least it took her mind off her physical discomfort.
They were rough, tough women but they had
accepted her good-naturedly, and teased her
mercilessly, although none of it was malicious.
They were sympathetic in their own way and
they made no comment when she had to keep
stopping for a rest.

By midday, Eloise was exhausted and in pain,
her lungs were clogged with dust and her mouth
was filled with grit, but somehow she kept
working. She had no intention of letting the
Tranters down, and she was desperate to earn
money. The noise in the dust yard was constant
and deafening. Carts filled with rubbish
clattered into the yard to unload and afterwards
to be reloaded with breeze or cinders which were
taken to the brickworks, together with the fine
dust for brick making. Rags, bones and old metal
went to marine store dealers; old boots and shoes
were sold to the Prussian blue manufactories.
Old iron and tin had their place in the scheme of
things, as did broken bricks and oyster shells
which went to be used in road making or
foundations of new buildings. In the midst of
this hive of activity, chickens and geese roamed
the site, pecking at the ground for scraps of food.
Large black rats made off with anything edible,
risking attack from the feral cats that stalked
them or lay in wait behind heaps of rubbish.

Somehow, after surviving the first day, the
second was not nearly so bad, but if it had not
been for the kindness of the Tranter family,
Eloise would have thought that she had landed
up in hell. Their open-hearted acceptance of her
acted as a balm to her spirit after her recent harsh
experiences and she did not even mind sleeping
on the flagstone floor every night. Peg gave her
an old palliasse that had definitely seen better
days. The straw stuffing was matted and thin,
but Eloise was so tired that she fell asleep without
any difficulty and barely noticed the
discomfort or the cold seeping up through the
flagstones.

At first, Eloise was anxious about leaving Joss
and Beth in the care of someone as young as
Cora, but there were many such children
amongst the families who worked the dust
heaps, and none of them seemed to come to any
harm. They played together in the dirt outside
the cottages and soon Joss and Beth were as
grubby as the rest of those who were too young
to be put to work. The elder children looked after
the little ones, but this was small comfort to
Eloise when she heard their shrieks and shouts
as they played and she worked. It was almost
impossible to tell whether the screams were of
excitement or agony, and she had to steel herself
to keep on sieving even though her maternal
instincts urged her to rush outside the yard to
make sure her children were unharmed.

At the end of the first week, Eloise queued up
with the rest of the workers to receive her wages.
It was the first time in her life that she had earned
any money and she pocketed the six shillings
with a feeling of pride and achievement. That
evening she was able to give Gertie Tranter
money to pay for their food and lodging, and the
remainder she put in her purse. Grateful as she
was to the Tranters, Eloise was determined to
move away as soon as possible. This was not the
sort of life she had envisaged for herself or her
children, and the tiny cottage was already
crammed to capacity without adding three extra
persons, even if two of them were very small. Not
that they were in the house very much, except to
eat and sleep. As the summer progressed, the
warm evenings found the inhabitants of Magpie
Alley sitting on their doorsteps, neighbour
chatting to neighbour, while the children played
in the street. The men mostly took themselves off
to the local pub, coming home late at night
having washed the grit from their throats with
several pints of beer. Although Peg denied tender
feelings for Mick Fowler, and she spent most of
her time arguing with him, she did not often
refuse him when he lumbered into the cottage
and asked her to go for a walk, or offered to take
her to some form of public entertainment. Peg
loved the theatre and music halls. Her favourite
outing was to visit the Pavilion or the City of
London Theatre and watch a melodrama from
the dizzy heights of the gallery. On these
evenings she was always in a good mood with
Mick and when he walked her home there was a
good deal of scuffling and giggling as they said
goodbye outside the front door.

After living with the Tranters for some time,
Eloise had discovered that what Peg said about
Mick was true. He had a ferocious temper, when
roused, but in general his loud voice, fierce
manner and bad language were just a cover to
hide his good nature from those who might take
advantage of him. In contrast to his great height
and bulk, Peg was tiny, but she had him well and
truly under her thumb. One quelling look from
her, or a sharp rebuke, would turn poor Mick
into a quivering wreck, but he was still her
devoted slave. Eloise marvelled at their relationship
and sometimes she was even a little
envious. Now that the initial horror of Ephraim's
assault on her had faded along with the bruises,
Eloise experienced a vague longing and a sense
of loneliness, even though she was surrounded
by people. It was not for Ronnie that she
yearned, and that also disturbed her. Their few
short years together were now fading to a
precious memory, stored like a wedding gown
wrapped in tissue paper and locked away in a
wooden chest. Sometimes she even had difficulty
in visualising his face and it seemed as
though he was gradually dissolving into the
misty past. But she was still young, she told
herself, not yet twenty-four, and although she
felt she ought to be ashamed to have what Papa
had called carnal thoughts, she missed the tender
loving relationship that exists between a man
and a woman. She could not imagine giving
herself willingly to another man, and yet . . . Her
life seemed to stretch ahead of her in a long and
lonely path.

On a particularly hot evening in July, when
Joss and Beth were snuggled up asleep with Cora
and Daisy in the back room, Eloise was alone in
the kitchen, sitting at the table and attempting to
write to her mother, but her mind kept wandering
from the subject. Outside she could hear the
older children playing and the sound of the
women's voices as they sat in the evening sunshine,
chatting about the events of the day. Eloise
stared at the few lines that she had written and
frowned. It was so difficult to think of anything
positive to tell Mama, especially when she had
not received any correspondence for several
weeks. For fear of being spotted by Pike, Eloise
had not dared to venture into the part of town
where the Missionary Society had their offices to
collect her mail. She could only hope that by now
he would have reported back to Cribb's Hall,
informing Hilda that his quarry had disappeared
without trace, and that he had given up his
search. Eloise stroked her cheek with the
feathery tip of the quill pen and decided that the
time had come to be brave. After all, she could
not hide forever and she was desperate for news
of her parents. Tomorrow she would venture
into town.

She folded the unfinished letter and put it back
inside her writing case. Then she took out a fresh
sheet and penned a note to Annie, telling her that
she would be in the gardens at the Foundling
Hospital on the following Sunday afternoon, and
suggesting that they might meet. With a new
sense of purpose, Eloise put the letter in an
envelope and sealed it. She could not and would
not hide away any longer. She must take charge
of her own life.