The Lights of London (22 page)

‘Over Bethnal Green way,’ explained Tibs, taking the opportunity to get a word in. ‘Towards Hoxton.’

‘That’s right. Building new places over there, they reckon. Decent homes, but for ordinary working people.’ Sal snorted in disbelief. ‘If you think
that’ll
ever happen … You see, it’ll be the next bleeding century and they’ll
still
be living with me, I’m telling you. I don’t mind having our Elsie, of course, but having that bloody Bobby under me feet … Honest, it’s bloody purgatory. But thank Gawd she’s only got the three kids still with her, eh? Gardens they reckon they’re gonna put round them new places. Gardens! What’s the use of sodding gardens?’

Tibs continued changing back into her own shabby clothes, nodding every now and again in an encouraging way at Sal to show she was keeping up with the monologue.

‘When he went missing before – her Bobby, I mean – he reckons he’d got himself shanghaied down the docks, if you don’t mind. Shanghaied my Aunt Fanny. If you ask me, he had it away on his toes ’cos he couldn’t stand our Elsie and all her bloody rabbiting. She can’t half bunny, can’t she, Tibs? Last time he went among the missing he had her believing he’d been off fighting in Africa. Africa? He don’t even know where it is. He’s such a bloody Tom Pepper. Tell you what, I wish he
would
bugger off to sodding Africa.’

‘I dunno about Elsie, Sal, I reckon you could talk them Africans into surrendering.’ Tibs shook her head and tutted kindly at her old friend. ‘And don’t look at me like that. Come on, now me and Kit’s changed I’m gonna treat the pair of you to a slap-up supper.’

‘Blimey, what’s this in aid of?’

‘All of this is down to you, Sal. It’s because of you we’re here tonight. Now, I’m gonna take you to this place up by Aldgate. I went past there once when I had nothing in me pocket, and I couldn’t even get any business ’cos it was snowing out and everyone who didn’t have to be out was inside in the warm, all snug and cosy while I was freezing me arse off. I smelt this wonderful smell and I pressed me nose against the window. Great, greasy chops they was eating, and steaming-hot pies. There was jellies and moulds and trifles all stacked up on the sideboards. And big wheels of cheese. I nearly fainted at the sight of it.’

Sal’s stomach grumbled loudly. ‘When was this then, Tibs?’

‘Couple of winters ago. Christmas Eve it was. Honest,
I was that starving.’ She looked at Kitty, remembering how hungry she had been that night when she’d bumped into One-eyed Sal. ‘When I saw all them people tucking in I couldn’t believe how much food they had between them.’ Her eyes lit up. ‘There was one bloke with a whole stuffed heart on his plate. And this woman, she had a great big apple dumpling, all covered in thick custard. That’s what I’m gonna have.’ She paused and thought about the rubbish she had sorted through at the back of the restaurant, desperate to find something to eat, and how the man had chased her away as though she was no more than a filthy gutter rat.

‘I saw Cook, up at the big house once,’ said Kitty. ‘She was making custard. It smelt really good, but I’ve never tasted it. Not for myself.’ She dipped her chin as she felt herself colour. ‘And I’ve never been to a proper eating house before neither. I’m not sure I know …’

‘Don’t you worry, Kit,’ said Sal, nudging her in the ribs. ‘There’s a first time for everything.’

‘You’re right there, me old love,’ said Tibs with a giggle. ‘Come on, let’s go and give ourselves a treat.’

As Kitty and Tibs left their clean, cosy little room, Albert Symes was sitting glowering in a miserable, dingy hovel less than a mile away, that he had rented from a tall Dutchman he had met in an alehouse. Albert had a place of his own in Whitechapel, but he liked to keep a few steps ahead of the game by not having anyone know where he might be found at any particular time.

He had had this place for almost a week and would probably be gone from there without a trace in less than a fortnight, but it suited him for now; it gave him somewhere private to plan his revenge on Fisher and Tibs. Particularly on Tibs. But he hadn’t yet worked out exactly what he could do to cause her the most
aggravation. And that was what he wanted. Because although he had hated Fisher hurting him like that – his jaw still ached when he woke up in the mornings – it was almost excusable. Blokes getting violent was what blokes did.

But what Albert couldn’t stomach was having whores taking liberties with him, although he wasn’t surprised by it. They were all the same: worthless, useless, liberty takers. Just like his mother.

Jack was standing in the pub doorway, taking a breath of cool night air before he and Archie got stuck into the clearing up. If they were going to have another full house like this tomorrow they would be too busy to leave the sorting out until the morning.

He heard the girls’ door being opened and the sound of female voices, laughing and joking. He stepped back inside and pulled the pub door to, leaving it open just a crack so that he could see out into the street.

Despite the sulphurous yellow smoke pouring from nearby chimneys, Jack had a clear view of Kitty and of Tibs’s loud one-eyed friend, as they waited for Tibs to finish fiddling with the imaginary lock she had decided, after Sal’s warning, should be there for the benefit of anyone who was listening.

‘There,’ exclaimed Tibs loudly, ‘all locked up, safe and sound. Any stage-door Johnnies are gonna have to kick it right off its hinges if they wanna get in there. And deal with me bull mastiff what’s sleeping on the stairs.’ She linked one arm through Kitty’s and the other through Sal’s. ‘Off we go then, girls.’

As Jack watched Kitty walking past the doorway, tall and lean – but still so feminine – he couldn’t help thinking of what those men had said about her and Tibs. He wasn’t exactly used to looking out for such
behaviour, in fact, it was something that was only ever whispered about in the village where he came from, in connection with two elderly women who lived on a nearby farm. When he had asked his mother about the rumours he had been given a swift swipe round the legs with the copper stick and told to wash out his mouth with soapy water. After that he had decided it was wisest to dismiss such talk as the dirty imaginings of growing schoolboys’ fevered imaginations. But maybe he should have listened and learned a bit more.

‘Hello, darling. Bar still open, is it?’ The cooing female voice dragged Jack back to the present.

He opened the door wider and saw one of the local brides, a young woman he sort of recognised, standing there with a smile on her face and her hand on her hip.

‘I’m Marie,’ she said. ‘Remember? You’ve said hello to me loads of times.’

‘That’s right,’ he said, although he was sure he’d never known her name. ‘Marie.’ Then, without thinking, he added, ‘Fancy coming upstairs?’

‘Theatre still open, is it? I thought the show’d be over now the stars have left.’ She smiled and jerked her thumb at the crudely painted posters of the ‘Pulchritudinous Pair’ that were pasted all along the street’s rough brick walls. ‘I saw ’em walking off just now. Right happy they sounded. And good luck to ’em I say. They deserve it.’

‘I didn’t mean up to the theatre.’ Jack’s voice was low. ‘I meant up to my room.’

Marie’s eyes brightened. It wasn’t only Tibs’s lucky night, it was hers as well. The landlord of a pub wanting to do business. He must be rolling in it.

Kitty and Tibs hadn’t even reached the end of Rosemary Lane when they were accosted by a group of
serious-looking people all dressed in sombre black clothing. One of them, an elderly man with a long grey beard, waved a copy of the Old Testament in Tibs’s face.

‘What’s going on, Sal?’ asked Kitty, backing away and averting her eyes from their piercing stares.

Sal sniffed inelegantly. ‘This mob reckons the world’s gonna come to an end at the New Year.’

‘But why is he picking on Tibs?’

‘He’s picking on all of us.’ Tibs spat at the man’s feet. ‘Because,’ she said venomously, ‘these
ladies and gentlemen
are members of a wonderful bunch what call themselves the Mission of the Millennial Pioneers. And they are offering to help us miserable sinners by delivering our souls. And I’ve just about had enough of ’em.’ She stuck her finger almost in the man’s face and hissed, ‘Now why don’t you go off and do what I told you to do the last time you tried to save me? Go down the river and take a running jump.’

The man rolled his eyes heavenwards and began muttering in a strange, babbling language. The rest of the group joined in.

‘Here we go.’ Tibs sighed. ‘More old nonsense.’ She poked the man in the chest. ‘Starting on us ’cos you can’t find no evil gamblers playing Pitch and Toss or Crown and Anchor, are you?’

The bearded man lowered his eyes and glowered at Tibs. ‘I have seen the pictures,’ he boomed, pointing at the posters advertising the girls’ new act. ‘I know what lewdness goes on in such places.’

He turned to Kitty, who shuddered under his gaze. ‘Dressing as a man. An abomination! Reject your ways. You are doing it for the demon money, but what price your soul?’

‘No, you’ve got it wrong, mate,’ Tibs said with mock-friendliness. ‘We work the skin off our arses ’cos we
love it. Now bugger off and, if you ain’t gonna jump in the river, go and hang around some other hall instead, eh?’

‘Our brothers and sisters, disciples all, are planning to visit every public house and music-hall in the East End, Lord be praised. We urge you to accept our offer …’

‘What’s that then?’ asked Sal, looking him up and down contemptuously. ‘A new black frock and a long white beard?’

One of the women stepped forward. ‘No. We are offering you all a free passage to Australia where, on the chimes of midnight as the new century begins, the righteous shall be lifted in the hands of the Almighty. Aloft they shall rise and into Paradise they shall be received.’

‘Would that be Paradise Row then?’ slurred Teezer who happened to be staggering by at that very moment.

‘No,’ Buggy corrected him, with a loud, rumbling belch. ‘Paradise Alley down by the Cut.’

Undaunted, the bearded, self-proclaimed messenger of the Lord continued, ‘When the old world is destroyed on the eve of the century we shall begin again in the New Jerusalem.’

‘What, the convicts been busy building over there, have they?’ Sal asked, joining in the joke.

Tibs was getting fed up. She was supposed to be taking her friends for a treat, not arguing the toss with this miserable mob of bible bashers. ‘They’re the same lot what caused all that trouble a few years back. You remember, Sal, down at the Empire. You are, ain’t you?’ She stared at them accusingly. ‘What d’you get out of bothering honest people who’re just trying to earn a living?’

‘We are simple people doing God’s work.’

‘Aw yeah? Why’re you staring at my tits then? To see
if you can see me Holy Spirit? Or are you checking to see if I’ve got me spare banjo tucked down there? If you really wanna do some good, you wanna get down Nightingale Lane and sort out them bastards what mess around with little boys of a night. That’s what you wanna get yourself all hot and bothered about, not hard-working girls like us. You should think about them poor kids.’

‘And you should think on your own words. Be warned. You are lost. Be found or your children will suffer as surely as those small boys. Condemned to the eternal flames by the sins of their harlot mothers.’

Tibs laughed, but Sal saw the fleeting shadow of fear that crossed her friend’s face.

‘Take no notice of him,’ Sal scoffed. ‘His lot don’t even give you a drop of soup like that other lot down the proper mission.’

Tibs shook her head in disgust. ‘They don’t even play the sodding harmonium, I’ll bet. Yet just look at ’em. Holier than bloody thou, thinking they’ve got the right to give decent people like me all their old shit.’

‘Please, Tibs.’ Kitty looked afraid. ‘You shouldn’t swear at church folk. I’m sure it must bring bad luck or something.’

‘You expect me to be worried by all their old toffee when I’ve had a life like mine? Do me a favour, Kit. This lot ain’t got a clue about real suffering and having to do your best just to get by, or even treating people with a bit of respect. If you ask me, they know bugger all about anything.’

Tibs’s words might have been bold, but she didn’t feel very brave.

Say the world really
was
going to end and sinners – no, put it straight –
whores
like her were going to be punished? What would happen to Polly then? Would
she be punished as well? Would an innocent child really have to pay for her mother’s sins?

Jack lay awake, listening to Marie’s gentle snores. He didn’t feel right. In fact, he felt ashamed. He’d used her.

All right, it was her job, going with men for money. But he had never been with a prostitute before. Worse, he hadn’t even really wanted her. Not her. He had wanted someone else. Someone who cared more for another woman than she ever would for him.

Marie moved languidly in her sleep, her thigh brushing against his.

Jack felt himself stir.

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

What was the point in denying himself?

Despite another exhausting evening performing on the boards at the Old Black Dog – three separate shows plus encores – Kitty was wide awake. But it wasn’t the heat of the sultry July night that was disturbing her sleep, or even the noises from the river. She couldn’t rest simply because she felt so good.

She flipped over on the lumpy mattress, making the big brass bed she and Tibs shared rattle and shake against the wall, and sighed happily. ‘Who would ever have thought things would work out so well for us, eh, Tibs?’ She stretched luxuriously, tensing and relaxing her long limbs.

She was so much stronger than she had been that night – nearly four months ago now – when she had first met Tibs and now, instead of cowering and crouching, she moved with the ease and enthusiasm of an excited puppy. Regular meals and the exertions of their stage act had transformed her into a firm-bodied young woman with a hearty appetite and a ready smile – a picture of youthful good health.