The Lights of London (13 page)

‘But what if he recognised you and reports you to a policeman? You could get arrested.’

‘Look, last night he was roaring drank, it was dark and, let’s be honest, Kit, tarts’
faces
ain’t really what they’re interested in, are they. A bride is just a body to them. We ain’t people or they couldn’t do what they do to us. And this morning he was walking in a street where he had no right to be, with a head on him that must feel like a steam engine and he probably won’t even know he’s lost anything for a couple of hours till he starts sobering up. Then, what’s he gonna tell anyone? I was out whoring and I got meself robbed? I don’t think so, girl.’

‘Are you scared of anyone?’

‘Course not,’ Tibs lied, as visions of what Albert was capable of doing to her when he was in a really bad
temper made her flinch as though he were actually standing right there in front of her, blocking her way. with a knife in one hand and a cosh in the other. ‘Fuck the lot of ’em,’ she shouted, ignoring the look of surprise on a passing wagoner’s weather-beaten face.

Kitty flushed scarlet. ‘And you’re not worried what people think, either?’

‘Look, Kit, there’s this moment, see, when you realise that although people might
think
they’re better than you, they might even seem cleverer, know more stuff than you, but they don’t. It’s only that they’ve been to school and have been told more. We’re every bit as good as they are. No, better.’ She waved her free arm furiously about her. ‘Let
them
try and get by under the arches. Let
them
live with no money.’

‘But …’

‘No buts. We feel just like they do. No, more than they do, ’cos we don’t hide behind book learning. We are what we are. Doing what we can. The best we can. Doing what we know and getting by. Making sure …’ She stopped speaking and pointed excitedly across the street, her face glowing with as much enthusiasm as an explorer who’d just found the source of a great river. ‘Here, look, with all that chatting, see where we’ve ended up already!’

She hauled Kitty across the street, dodging in and out of the wagons and carts, and skipping round the piles of steaming dung and the other less easily identifiable piles of mess and rubbish that littered the cobbled roadway. ‘Come on, Kit. We’ve made it. You said you’d see me here safely and you have.’

‘I’ll just see you inside, Tibs, then I’m going.’

‘Yeah, course.’ Tibs pushed open the pub door and shoved Kitty into the main bar of the Old Black Dog.

It was strange, but as she stepped inside, Kitty had a
real feeling of regret. Of loss. Soon she would be leaving this new friend of hers, this fierce little thing with the face of an earth-bound cherub and the courage of a lion. Maybe if they had met before, things might not have worked out so badly.

But what was the point of thinking like that?

‘The most shocking thing is …’ Tibs puffed, as she stood on the brass foot rail and leaned across the counter, peering over it as though the landlord would, for some inexplicable reason, be hiding down there. She looked over her shoulder. ‘Are you listening to me, Kit?’

‘Yes. Yes, of course.’

‘The most shocking thing you’ll come to realise, Kit – the
revelation
as the preacher down the mission would say – is that bad people, evil people, are so ordinary.’ Tibs clambered down and wiped her hands on her skirts. ‘They ain’t like monsters or nothing. Not like the preachers’d have you believe. ’Cos the devil don’t have horns. Oh no. When you see him he’ll be wearing a posh, shiny silk topper, you mark my words.’

‘Not a battered old felt hat like his?’ Kitty asked, pointing hesitantly.

Tibs looked across the bar to where Jack Fisher was sitting with his head in his hands, while Archie was trying to persuade him to drink from a thick china tea cup. ‘No, that ain’t Old Nick’s style,’ she pronounced confidently. ‘Definitely a topper. Now, lift your chin, look everyone in the eye and just remember, Kitty girl, you’re as good as the lot of them put together. That’s your first lesson.’

‘But, Tibs …’

‘Five more minutes, girl, that’s all I’m asking.’

‘Sod me, what’s going on?’

Teezer had snored so loudly he’d woken himself up.
Sitting up suddenly, he set the skiff bobbing violently against the incoming tide.

‘Buggy! Oi, Bug. Wake up and get this fire going.’

‘Leave off, Teeze,’ Buggy whined, rubbing his eyes with the backs of his hands. He looked and sounded like a reluctant child being dragged from his cot. ‘I’m tired.’

‘Leave off, you say? You’re tired? I’ll give you leave off. Look at that church tower.’ He jabbed his thumb over his shoulder in the direction of St Anne’s. ‘Nearly nine o’clock. Another day’s started on the river and you’re still akip. If we wanna earn enough to feed our bellies and have a few bevvies in the Dog tonight you’d better get working. Now row me over to the bank. I’m going looking for that tart we dragged outta the drink last night. With them long legs on her she won’t have gone unnoticed.’

Buggy groaned. Not only working, but all by himself. ‘Why, Teeze? Why would you wanna do that? Why?’

‘Because I, Buggy my son, am going to forget her ingratitude – water under the bridge, if I might make a pun – and with the powers of my sweet-talking tongue I shall persuade her that I might – just might, mind – have a job for her. She’ll be putty in my hands.’

‘We’re on time,’ Tibs said brightly, smiling confidently at Archie and doing her best to ignore the pain in her side.

Archie returned her smile and, tucking his broom under his bad arm, he touched his governor gently on the shoulder. ‘Visitors, boss.’

‘Eh?’

‘Try and open your eyes. There’s someone here to see you.’

Jack drank deeply from the now cold cup of tea. ‘You sort them out for me, Archie, there’s a pal. I just need to
shut my eyes for another five minutes.’

Archie leaned closer, flinching slightly at the stench of stale beer and rum exuding from Jack Fisher’s every pore. ‘I reckon you’ll wanna see these two yourself, boss. Two young ladies. Pretty they are and all. There’s this little one …’ he began admiringly.

‘There’s this little one,’ Tibs cut in, tapping Archie smartly on the shoulder and stepping in front of him so that she could let Fisher have a good look at her, ‘who’s turned up right on time. Just like you asked her to.’

Archie grinned foolishly at her. She really was a lovely-looking girl – all dimples and bouncy blonde curls, and not afraid to put herself forward. Just the way Archie liked them.

In his dreams.

He moved politely out of her way. Since his accident he’d learned to know his place where young women were concerned. Especially young women as pretty as this one.

‘Good,’ said Jack flatly, dragging his gaze away from the table top.

As soon as she saw his blank expression it was patently clear to Tibs that this man didn’t have a clue what she was talking about. She had to think quickly or this chance would slip from her grasp and she wasn’t prepared to let that happen. Not at any price.

‘Good,’ she repeated. ‘That’s right. It is good. Good.’ She was beginning to feel like a sailor’s ill-trained parakeet. ‘People should be on time.’ She smiled brightly, turned and flashed her eyebrows at Kitty, willing her to say something sparky. To say anything. ‘That’s what I said, didn’t I, Kit?’

Kitty remained as silent as Jack Fisher.

‘Wouldn’t do to be late on the first day, now would it? That’s what I said, didn’t I?’ Tibs rambled on, trying to
get the conversation going. What was wrong with this bloke? He wasn’t even trying to look down her front, even though she was bending over the table so hard she was nearly folded double.

‘Can I fetch you anything, boss?’ asked Archie.

Tibs could have kissed him.

‘More tea or something? And how about something for the young ladies?’

Jack nodded, then wished he hadn’t. His head was hammering. ‘Tea would be a good idea.’

‘Ladies?’ Archie enquired.

‘Lovely,’ Tibs replied, before Kitty had the chance to open her mouth. ‘We’re both gasping, ain’t we, girl?’

‘So I’ll leave you to entertain your guests then, shall I, boss?’ Archie hissed into his governor’s ear.

‘What?’ Jack, bleary-eyed, unshaven and hung-over, peered up at Tibs and Kitty. What the hell was going on?

‘While I make the tea …’

‘Right.’ Jack ran the back of his hand across his forehead and rose unsteadily to his feet. Supporting himself by grasping the table top, he licked his sandpaper lips and said, ‘So what are your names then?’

He’d spoken so quickly, as if afraid that he wouldn’t be able to finish the sentence, that the words all ran into one, but Tibs was used to drunks.

She smiled winningly. ‘Tibs. Tibs Tyler. Eighteen years old and pretty as a picture. And this is Kitty …’ She turned and widened her eyes at Kit. ‘Kitty …’

‘Wallis,’ said Kitty nervously, standing up as straight as a young recruit – just the way the hateful old housekeeper had taught her in the big house. ‘Aged nineteen, sir,’ she added snappily.

Jack stared suspiciously, trying to remember. ‘I’m not offering you a job in the army, lass.’

Kitty blushed and Fisher looked at her more closely.
Tall and skinny, and as scruffy as a scarecrow she might be, but there was something about this girl. She was sort of attractive and sort of … well, familiar.

‘What
exactly
are you offering again?’ Tibs asked, interrupting his drink-befuddled thoughts. ‘I’d like you to spell it out nice and clear for us, if you don’t mind, like. I’m the one who does the business arrangements see,’ she added grandly.

Kitty snapped her head round and stared at her.
Business arrangements
? This didn’t sound right.

But before she could say anything, Jack was speaking again, or rather he was trying to. ‘So, er, let me get this straight … You, er …’

‘I know how much acts like our’n earn,’ Tibs butted in with a snooty lift of her chin. ‘We’ve got plenty of friends who work the halls, ain’t we, Kit?’

Jack, for whom the penny had finally dropped, looked exactly as though someone had just lit his gas mantle. The relief of at last remembering! That was it! These lasses did a turn. Some sort of double act. And they’d been doing it – whatever it was – down in the bar. And the customers had loved it; they’d laughed and thrown pennies, and had a fine old time. He’d come down from upstairs for some reason and had spoken to one of them. The little one, if he remembered rightly, and had asked them to come in and see him in the morning. And they had.

He was far too pleased with himself to notice that Kitty’s mouth had dropped open and that she was now staring at her friend in total disbelief. All he could hope was that he hadn’t said anything awkward, or vulgar. He knew he wasn’t used to the drink and could have said just about anything. He also hoped he hadn’t promised them too much. Because the truth was, he didn’t have much to give them. That bloody drayman
had just about finished him off as far as cash was concerned.

He stared down at his boots. Begin at the beginning, Jack, he told himself. ‘I hope that when I spoke to you last night, I didn’t say anything that might have … well, caused embarrassment to you lasses. Or that might have given you the wrong impression.’

Tibs just about stopped herself from laughing out loud. He must have been more pissed than she realised. He couldn’t remember what he’d said! Not a sodding thing. This was going to be easier than she thought. ‘You was a bit tired, sir. I said to Kit here – didn’t I, Kit? – that man must work so hard running this place, he looks proper worn out.’

‘Tibs.’ Kitty shot her a questioning look. ‘I don’t think …’

‘Would you excuse us a moment, sir?’ Tibs asked daintily. ‘We need to discuss something. Private, like.’

He nodded, not caring this time that his blood was pumping through his poor suffering skull like a piston; he was too excited. This odd-looking pair could be the beginning of him solving all his problems. Better acts, that’s what he needed, and the punters had loved these two.

Tibs pulled Kit to one side. ‘Look, I know what I said about you just walking me over here, ’cos of me injuries, like’ – she clutched her side without much conviction, but thought it still worth a go – ‘but you’ve gotta help me. Singers are ten a penny. Even good singers. And as for screechers like me …’

‘No, Tibs. I told you. I’m not going on the stage.’

‘Just listen. For one minute. Please. See, Kit, when I talked to him last night he was going on about booking us as a double act. A
double
act. Not me, but
us.
The pair of us.’

‘I told you …’

‘Aw Kit, come on. Don’t let me down.’

‘I can’t. I explained. I’d keep you company because I owed you a favour. But nothing else. If I’d known you were going to try and trick me …’

Tibs looked mortified. ‘Me, trick you? Course I wasn’t trying to do that. I just didn’t tell you the whole truth, ’cos I didn’t want to spoil things. I knew what a lovely surprise it would be, once you got over the shock, like.

Kitty opened her mouth to question such blatant rubbish, but Tibs was already rattling on again. ‘And anyway, you’ll be really good. Anyone can do it. Look at me, I couldn’t carry a tune in a bucket, I really couldn’t, but I can still give a song. It’s all about putting it over right. Like telling a story.’ She gestured extravagantly with her child-like hands as she put on different expressions. ‘A cheeky story. A sad story. Even a saucy story. Whatever you fancy. And if I can do it, anyone can. And that feller over there,’ she jerked her thumb over her shoulder at Jack, ‘reckons he can put us on the boards and make us stars.’

Kitty shook her head in wonder. ‘I must be losing my senses.’

‘No you ain’t,’ Tibs wheedled, ‘you’re just getting a job, that’s all. A bloody good job.’ And, she added to herself, one where I don’t have to bend over and lift me skirts up over me head half a dozen times a night.

Jack came over to join them. ‘Everything all right?’ His voice was still thick from the night before, but he now sounded definitely more alert.

‘Smashing, thanks, mister. And I just wanna say how grateful we are and all. Don’t we, Kit? By the way,’ she went on, before Kitty opened her trap and put her foot in it, ‘what should we call you?’