Perry Scrimshaw's Rite of Passage (36 page)

The two gentlemen stepped out
into the corridor and allowed Perry room to pass.

‘
Good day,’
they both touched the rim of their hats and clopped down the
corridor.

‘
Who is
it?’

Perry entered, leaving the door
open behind him. The office was a fairly ratty place with frayed
carpets and a functional desk. Behind it, with his badly tamed
woolly hair, red drinkers face, sat Maxwell.

‘
You here to
join the union son?’

Perry noticed newspaper
clippings pinned to the walls and scanned a few of them; reporting
pay rises for the fire service and dockworkers.

‘
Son? The
union? That why you’re here?’

‘
You’ve done
well for yourself I see.’

Maxwell stood, slid his huge
hands in his pockets and walked over to Perry in a couple of
strides. He pointed at the wall.

‘
That one
there, I negotiated that. Time and a half for Saturday
work.’

‘
Good for
you.’

Maxwell nodded in agreement,
his breathing squeezed noisily through his nose. Perry felt uneasy,
the sheer size of the man would be enough to frighten a bear, but
he needed to know the truth.

‘
You don’t
recognise me do you?’

Maxwell studied him under bushy
eyebrows. ‘You’re familiar. Perhaps I know your father?’

The mention of his father
sprung something in him, ‘No. That’s not it. Remember the
riot?’

‘
Do I! The
admiralty with gunboats in the bay, the army keeping the peace! A
terrible time for this town.’

‘
You talk
about it as if it weren’t your own doing.’

Maxwell’s eyes narrowed. ‘Who
are you boy?’

‘
I tipped off
the strikebreakers from Pompey.’

‘
Blacklegs,’
Maxwell sneered.

Perry took a pace away in case
the big man lunged at him and walked over to the window.

Maxwell crossed his arms. ‘I
could’ve wrung your neck you little scallywag,’ his wheezing breath
eased, ‘but a lot’s happened since then.’

‘
For both of
us,’ Perry said, ‘what would happen if everyone knew it was you who
led the dockers to riot?’

Maxwell
laughed revealing yellow front teeth. ‘Everyone
does
know already. The riot was
regrettable but it gave us some power too. Showed that we aren’t
here to be bullied, that we can fight back.’

‘
Listen to
yourself, playing at politics. You’re nothing but a thug with some
new posh mates.’

‘
Bold is a boy
who comes in here accusing me of being a violent man. There ain’t
nobody here, I could just toss you out of that window.’

Perry couldn’t help checking
the drop. It would kill him. He flipped the knife open in his
pocket and pulled it out and held it to the light.

‘
I
am
a bold
boy.’

Maxwell’s voice was flat. ‘You
even know how to use that blade boy? Your grip’s all wrong.’

‘
Blade’s sharp
enough.’

‘
What do you
want?’

‘
I’m here to
ruin you. Those gentlemen that just left - Bicker-Carten I think
and the other one, Gayton is it?’

‘
So
what?’

‘
I’m going to
tell them what you did to me, I’m going to tell everyone and any
plans you have will be cut short enough.’

Maxwell screwed his face up.
‘Listen you little turd, I don’t know who you think you are coming
in here but that riot was a good time back, and I caused you no
injury.’

‘
Injury?’
Perry took a step towards the big man. ‘You’re the feller who
attacked me, tied me, put me aboard the lifeboat of a steamship and
left me to exile.’

‘
You what?’
Maxwell’s face froze in amusement.

‘
You heard
me.’

‘
Ha! I never
heard so much twaddle in the whole of my life!’

‘
The
politician again.’

A storm blackened Maxwell’s
features and in two paces he was onto Perry, twisting the knife
from his grasp and hauling him up by the scruff of his collar into
the air.

‘
Let go!’
Perry bellowed, kicking his legs. ‘See you’re a thug, going to
chuck me out the window are you? Thug!’

‘
I’m not
throwing you out the window you twerp!’ Maxwell carried him across
the room to the doorway, Perry wriggling for all he was worth and
gulping for air with the tightness of his collar on his
neck.

Before he knew it he was back
on his feet facing the corridor, felt a shove in his back and fell
into the corridor wall.

‘
Now rake your
accusations elsewhere!’ Maxwell spat and kicked the knife out into
the corridor with Perry.

But Perry wasn’t finished. ‘It
was you, you damn liar, coward! To a boy!’

‘
Idiot,’
Maxwell growled and slammed the door in Perry’s face.

Perry banged
his fists on the door. ‘Maxwell! I know it was you!’ he thumped and
thumped until his fists smarted and stung. ‘My Pa died while I was
away. You know that? And that was your fault too! You hear me?’ he
sobbed, ‘Your fault!’ he slumped down to the floor feeling as wiped
out as the drunks outside the
Bell &
Mast
.

A minute or two passed, Perry
trembled there, with the anger, the sadness of it. He recovered the
knife, and flipped it open and shut. Open and shut. The office door
opened, Maxwell stared down at him. Perry sprung to his feet and
chose fists over knife, taking up a boxing stance.

‘
Put your
dukes down lad,’ Maxwell’s voice was low now. ‘I’m sorry about your
Pa. Wouldn’t wish that on anyone. But I didn’t do what you say I
did. I just didn’t. Done some awful things in my time mind, worse
than what happened to you even. If it’s blame and vengeance you
want, you’re in the wrong place.’

‘
Why should I
believe you?’ Perry sniffed.

‘
No reason you
should lad. But I’ve no reason to lie to you, you go tell
Councillor Gayton and Bicker-Carten what you like – they know my
past, and it’s because of my past that I’m the right man to help
them call for change, to help the poorest in this city.’

Maxwell rested a hand on his
shoulder. ‘You can let something like this eat you up inside out,
but is this what your Pa would’ve wanted for you? I mean look at
the state of you.’

Perry lowered his fists,
fighting away tears, suddenly ashamed of how he’d acted.

‘
What’s done
is done. But you can make his memory proud, what do you say?’
Maxwell held out his hand and Perry found himself shaking
it.

41

Perry left Maxwell’s in a daze
and walked thoughtlessly, ending up outside St. Michael’s Church.
With his head dipped he entered and took a seat at the back and
prayed. He asked for forgiveness for what he’d done to the doctor
and for the way he’d behaved at Maxwell’s – like a damn child. If
he could unburden himself of all this anguish…then what? He
couldn’t think straight.

He stepped out, blinking like
an owl in the sunshine and felt lighter, better. An urge suddenly
overtook him, to go out of town to the guddling spot where his
father took him. Yes, he would go there now, to visit that place
and throw pebbles in the river awhile and catch a trout or two for
fun.

Perry travelled with the coach
window open, the afternoon air crisp as an apple. It was good to be
out here once more, passing the vibrant green hedgerows and trees
of England, its cottages billowing smoke. A heron guarded the
bounty of a pond, its shoulders hunched like a Beefeater. The sight
lifted him and it was as good as he’d felt in days. Of one thing he
was sure, Southampton seemed to bring out the worst in him, he
would find somewhere better; the countryside, perhaps even
abroad.

‘
Will you
wait?’ Perry asked when they arrived in Bishopstoke. ‘I’ll want to
go back in a bit and you can double your fare?’

The driver agreed and Perry set
off along the route he remembered well, picking through the trees
and making his way along the bank of the Itchen.

He neared the bridge, threading
through a thick copse of alders and heard a high-pitched whistle.
Wings flapped as an armada of woodpigeons spirited out of the
trees. The twang of a catapult. The whistle of its shot through the
air. A squawk, then the padding and brushing of something falling
through leaves and branches, finishing with a soft thud on the
earth.

‘
Got him! Did
you see me?’

Perry knew that voice, couldn’t
see him, but he was positive. It was Joel. His heart leap for joy
and he pulled himself through the next lot of trees towards the
clearing.

‘
Well aren’t
you as good as Robin Hood with that thing?’ a girl’s
voice.

He stopped. Eva? It sounded
just like her. He rushed now, tripping over tree roots and
stumbling through the last few trees to reach the clearing.

He stepped from
behind the tree and couldn’t believe his eyes. Eva and Joel were
kissing! He gaped, paralysed at the sight of them. Their eyes were
closed, Joel’s arm wrapped protectively around her. And then as if
woken by a gut punch he jumped back to hide behind the tree. How
long had this been going on? And here! This was
his
place, not theirs.

He peeped around the trunk.

‘
Come on,’ said
Eva, ‘let’s go home.’

They were living together? He
kicked the base of the trunk with his foot, stubbing his toe
something awful. He bit the air in pain, desperate not to make a
noise.

‘
Just one
more,’ Joel said. Perry was preparing to have to endure another
kiss but instead Joel had his catapult out, one eye closed and had
it pointed at the copse Perry was in. Had he been seen? He didn’t
think so.

Joel whistled and a single
pigeon flapped out of the tree, thwack.

‘
Damn! Just
winged the bugger.’

‘
Come on now,
that’s enough,’ said Eva.

‘
Look I said
one more.’

‘
But you had
one more, just then.’

‘
I
didn’t
get
it
though, did I?’

‘
Please
Joely,’
Joely?
Perry’s skin crawled, that’s what he used to call him, ‘I
don’t like you hurting the poor birds.’

‘
I don’t like
you hurting the poor birds,’ Joel mimicked in a baby
voice.

Perry wanted to run out and
clobber him one, talking to Eva like that.

‘
Fine then,
I’ll go back on my own,’ Eva marched off into the woods beyond. She
looked more beautiful than ever.

‘
Wait! You
leave in that coach and I’ll see to it you’re sorry!’ Joel ran
after her, his catapult hanging out of his back pocket. ‘Eva
wait!’

Surely she
couldn’t really love him.
Could
she?
Perry’s first instinct was to follow
them, but they mentioned a coach. He wasn’t about to run after a
coach all the way to Southampton when he had his own waiting. He
quickly scrambled back the way he had come. He glanced up and down
the road for another coach, there was none; there were side roads
plenty here, but one main route back to Southampton. He raced to
the horse, a coal-black mare with blinkers and looked inside the
cab. No sign of the coachman.

‘
Where’s your
master?’ Perry asked the horse. The mare’s breath frosted the air
and she dipped her head to take a drink from a trough at the side
of the road. Up the road, past a clutch of cottages Perry saw the
inn, a boxy two-storey overlooking the river. He sprinted up the
road and pushed inside. The coachman was at the bar with a glass of
beer. It was full of locals, with a crackling fire, horseshoes and
copper pots hanging from the walls.

‘
We need to
go,’ Perry said.

‘
That was
quick,’ the coachman replied, ‘I’ve barely touched me
drink.’

‘
I’ll pay for
it. I’m sorry, something’s come up and I have to get back right
now.’

The coachman sighed and drained
the rest of his beer. ‘I’ll add it onto your fare. Cheers Freddy,’
the coachman said to the barman.

Once outside, Perry practically
ran to the horse and stepped up onto the coachman’s seat.

‘
Mind if I sit
up here with you?’

‘
Suit
yerself.’

‘
A good pace
please.’

The coachman clambered up and
grabbed the reins.

‘
Yah!’ and they
were off. Five minutes down the Southampton road and a cab came
into view. As they neared Perry caught a view of the two figures
inside through the back window. Eva’s angel hair was
unmistakable.

‘
Let’s slow
down now and just follow behind this cab.’

‘
You’re an odd
one you.’

Perry ignored him, watching the
rumbling carriage ahead, his mind flooding with questions. Did she
love him? How long had it been going on after he left? Where were
they living now?

The afternoon drew in, dragging
a few grey bales of clouds across the sky with a stiff breeze. It
was chilly, but Perry didn’t want to stop watching the coach in
front. The coachman was thankfully the quiet sort.