A Mother's Courage (26 page)

Barton gave Pike a disdainful look. 'And who
might you be? Why were you pursuing this
young woman?'

'It's no matter,' Eloise said, backing away. 'It
was a misunderstanding.'

'No you don't,' Pike snarled, reaching out to
catch her by the arm. 'Not so fast, lady. You're
coming with me.'

'It seems that the lady doesn't want to go with
you,' Barton said icily. 'I suggest you go about
your business, my good man.'

Pike bristled visibly, but he let go of Eloise's
arm. 'It's a private matter, sir. A family argument
you might say.'

'Then I suggest you continue your argument in
private, but only after you've had time to calm
down.' Caine turned his back on Pike to address
Eloise in a stern voice. 'And you, madam, would
do better to take your children home and leave
your man to reflect on his duty as a husband.'

Eloise could not look him in the face. The utter
humiliation of being taken for Pike's woman had
momentarily cancelled out her fear, but now she
saw her chance to escape and she took it.
Without saying another word, she carried the
screaming children down the street, leaving the
governor of the Foundling Hospital to castigate
Pike for his belligerent behaviour. When their
raised voices faded into the distance she stopped
to comfort the children, whose hysterical cries
had quietened to dull sobs as they clung to her,
soaking her blouse with their tears. Eloise found
a quiet alley between shuttered business
premises which led to a small court surrounded
by warehouses. She sat down in the dust, rocking
and cuddling the children until they were calm.
Wiping their dirty faces on her sleeve, she kissed
their tear-stained cheeks. 'There, there, my pets.
It's all over now; we're safe from that nasty man.'

'Nasty man,' Joss murmured. 'Bad man.'

'Yes, darling,' Eloise agreed. 'A very bad man,
but he won't find us again. Mama will see to
that.' But even as the words left her mouth, she
knew that she could not return to Magpie Alley.
Although there were many dust yards in east
London, she was certain it would not take Pike
long to discover where she had been working,
and that would inevitably lead him to the
Tranters' cottage. The realisation that they were
again homeless hit her with a sudden shock.
They had only the clothes that they were
wearing. Luckily she had brought her purse with
her, but the rest of her possessions were in
Magpie Alley and it would be madness to try to
return there for a while. Gertie and Peg would no
doubt be frantic with worry, but there was
nothing she could do about that for the present.

Eloise fingered her purse and was reassured
by the weight of the coins she had so carefully
saved. Her main priority now must be to find
cheap accommodation for the next few nights,
or until she found a suitable living-in position.
With a determined twitch of her shoulders,
she set off again, keeping to the back streets.
This was not a part of London that Eloise knew,
but she was desperate to be far away from
Clerkenwell and King's Cross and more
especially from Pike's prying eyes. It was late
afternoon, judging by the position of the sun in
the sky, and the children were tired and hungry.
With a few words of encouragement and the
promise of something to eat soon she walked on,
moderating her pace so that Joss could keep up
with her, but she kept looking over her shoulder
fearing that Pike might by some chance have
followed them.

With no clear idea of where she was going,
Eloise was relieved to see the familiar landmark
of the British Museum, which she had once
visited with her father. The sight of it brought
back memories of a happy outing, but also a
twinge of sadness as she remembered a life that
had been so different and now seemed so far
away. She realised that their dishevelled appearance
was attracting curious glances from the
well-dressed citizens of Bloomsbury who were
out for a Sunday afternoon promenade, and she
hastily moved on. Having reached New Oxford
Street, she hesitated, uncertain which way to go.
If she went east, she would be back in the area
where Pike was probably still searching for
them. There was no point in going towards the
expensive West End, and north would lead her
back towards King's Cross and imminent danger
of discovery. She crossed the busy road, threading
her way between hansom cabs, hackney
carriages and horse-drawn omnibuses, and
hurrying south she found herself in an area that
was both foreign to her and frightening.

Even though it was Sunday, groups of
slatternly, drunken old women stood about on
street corners, smoking clay pipes and drinking
out of stone bottles. Gangs of ragged children
roamed the streets like packs of wild wolf cubs,
looking no doubt for a pocket to pick or a purse
to snatch. Avoiding a particularly ferocious looking
band of youths, Eloise dodged into
Hampshire Hog Yard, but a burly man wearing
corduroy breeches and gaiters staggered
towards her. He was obviously under the
influence of alcohol or even opium, and she fled,
dragging a protesting Joss behind her. Beth
joined in with his miserable caterwauling and in
desperation Eloise turned into a road that bore
the reassuring name of Church Lane.

She could still hear the thunder of traffic from
New Oxford Street, but Church Lane might have
been another world. It was narrow and cobbled
and presented an odd sight indeed. Eloise
paused for a moment to catch her breath and to
stare. Suspended from the windows of the three-storey
terraced houses were wooden rods
festooned with wet washing. The garments,
which hung limply in the still air, were worn and
shabby, some of them patched and others little
more than rags and tatters. There were several
shops, closed for the holy day, and a pub which,
despite its being a holy day, was obviously doing
a brisk trade. The doors were open and men
hung about outside with pint pots in their hands
and clay pipes stuck in their mouths. Groups of
women stood outside their houses, enjoying the
late afternoon sunshine that filtered through the
gaps in the tall buildings, and barefoot children
played in the road, the girls skipping or whippings
tops and the boys play-fighting. Although
the area was poor and run down, Eloise did not
feel threatened when a tawdrily dressed young
woman sauntered over to her. 'Are you looking
for someone, love?'

Eloise was wary. The woman was obviously
the sort that Ronnie would have scathingly
referred to as a dollymop, but her smile seemed
genuine enough, and surely it was wrong to
judge a person because they dyed their hair and
rouged their lips? Eloise shook her head. 'No, but
we do need cheap lodgings. Do you know of
anywhere near here? My little boy is too tired to
walk much further.'

'Poor little sod,' the woman said, ruffling Joss's
hair. 'He looks done in and so do you. I reckon I
could find you a bed for the night. Old Mother
Hilton keeps the cleanest kip-shop in the street.
C'mon on, it's not far.' Without a by-your-leave,
she bent down and lifted Joss off his feet. 'You be
a good boy for Auntie Poll and stop that bawling.
You're giving me a headache.'

Joss was obviously taken by surprise at this
sudden turn of events and he stopped crying, but
he sent a mute appeal for help to his mother as
Poll carted him off down the road. Eloise hurried
after them. 'Don't worry, Joss, I'm coming.'

Poll stopped outside a house at the far end of
the street and she opened the door and went
inside. Eloise followed her down a passage
whose walls did not appear to have had a lick of
paint since the day the house was built. There
was no covering on the floorboards other than a
sprinkling of white sand, but at least the
premises seemed clean and the pervading smell
was of carbolic soap. Poll carried Joss down a
narrow staircase to the basement kitchen where a
fire burned in the range and a large boiler on
either side of it bubbled with hot water. A fat
woman wearing a faded cotton-print frock and
white mobcap sat by the range with her feet up
on a stool.

'Mother Hilton, I found this woman and her
nippers wandering the street. Any chance of a
night's lodgings?'

'Let's see your money,' Mother Hilton said,
eyeing Eloise suspiciously. 'I got a room if you've
got the cash, but you'll have to share.'

Eloise put Beth down on the floor and she took
a few tottering steps before going down on her
hands and knees to crawl over to Joss, who had
been set down on a stool by Poll and was sitting
quite still, staring wide-eyed at the strange
surroundings. Eloise flexed her stiff fingers and
took out her purse. 'How much do you charge
for one night?'

'One and four pence, take it or leave it. Food is
extra.'

'That's a lot for a shared room,' Eloise protested.

'You'd pay three shillings in the City, and three
times that in one of them posh hotels up West.
This is a clean and respectable establishment.'

Poll snorted with laughter. 'Pull the other one,
Mother. Your lodgers are magsmen, coiners and
prostitutes.'

'Shut your trap, Poll. I don't care what trade or
profession my clients follow, just so long as they
don't cause no trouble and they pays up on the
nail.' Mother Hilton heaved her large frame from
the chair and she glared ominously at Joss and
Beth. 'And I don't like nippers. They make a
noise and they make a mess.'

'Perhaps I'd better go elsewhere,' Eloise said
hastily.

Mother Hilton put her hands on her hips and
mimicked Eloise's voice. 'Perhaps I'd better go
elsewhere.' Her mocking smile darkened to a
scowl. 'Perhaps you had, my lady. I dunno who
or what you're running from, but I don't want no
trouble from irate husbands or the law.'

'Oh, calm down, you old cow,' Poll said,
snatching the purse from Eloise's fingers and
shaking it so that the coins jingled. 'She can pay,
so what's the fuss about?'

Two nights in advance then,' Mother Hilton
said, holding out her hand. 'And two nights in
advance after that, if you're still here.'

Eloise glanced down at her exhausted children
huddled together on the stool, and she nodded
her head. 'All right, two and eight it is, but I'll be
looking for alternative accommodation.'

'I hear they're all booked up at the Hotel Cecil,'
Mother Hilton said, chuckling. 'Show her where
to go, Poll. I'm going to put me feet up afore the
rest of them comes in demanding supper, which
is one shilling extra.'

'Come on, love,' Poll said, heading for a door at
the back of the kitchen. 'I'll show you your room.
It ain't Buckingham Palace, but I'll say this for
the old bitch, she keeps a clean house.'

With Beth in her arms and Joss toddling on
behind Poll, Eloise followed wearily, forcing her
tired limbs into motion. Poll led them through an
area that seemed to be used purely as a storeroom,
where sacks of potatoes, flour and dried
peas were stacked along the walls together with
cans of paraffin and boxes of candles. At the far
end was another door and this led into a room
about eleven feet square with a small window
that looked out onto the area. It felt damp and the
light was poor, but Eloise could just make out the
shape of four lumpy mattresses lined up side by
side. There was nothing else in the room, not
even a table or a chair.

'This can't be right,' Eloise said in despair. 'I'm
not paying one and four a night to sleep in a
room like this, cheek by jowl with strangers.'

Poll folded her arms across her chest, shaking
her head. 'Look, love. I can see that you ain't
used to this sort of thing, but let me give you a
word of advice. Take it! That's what I say. At
least Mother Hilton's beds are reasonably clean.
You won't find no bed bugs here and she ain't
mean with the victuals. You could get similar in
any one of the lodging houses round Seven
Dials, but you'd pay more and you never know
who's sleeping in the next bed. At least I can tell
you that only two of these cots is took, one by
old Aggie who falls into a drunken stupor
every night and don't wake up till noon, and the
other by Ivy who was a maidservant in a big
house until she fell pregnant by the butler and
then she got thrown out on the street. She lost
her baby but without a reference she can't go
back into service and so she does the next best
thing.'

Eloise laid Beth down on one of the mattresses.
'And what's that?'

'She's a woman of the town, like me.' Poll
raised her eyebrows and chuckled. 'I see you
don't understand me. Young Ivy is a prostitute.'

'Oh!' Eloise sank down onto the bed beside
Beth and Joss. 'I see.'

'When it comes to it, love, there ain't many
ways that women like us can earn enough to pay
for their food and lodgings.'

'But there must be other things you could do.'
Eloise stopped short and bit her lip. Poll had
been kind and the last thing she wanted to do
was upset her. She tried again. 'I mean, there's
factory work and serving in shops.'

Poll chuckled. 'You have to speak proper and
dress right to work in a shop. And as to factory
work, well, there's phossy jaw for them what
makes matches and lung rot for them that works
in the flour mills, just to mention a couple of
things that can kill you slow and painful like. To
be honest, love, I'd rather do what I do and risk
the pox or the occasional beating than waste me
life working ten or twelve hours a day for
nuppence and a nasty disease at the end of it.'

'But surely there must be honest work a
woman can do?' Eloise said desperately. 'I'll be
straight with you, Poll. I have to support my
children and I must find work.'

Poll took a baccy pouch and a box of matches
from her skirt pocket. She proceeded to roll a
cigarette, staring thoughtfully at Eloise and the
children. 'I'm sorry, ducks, but you got no
chance, at least not with them two nippers in
tow. Ain't you got no one who would take them
in?'