The Lights of London (33 page)

‘You wouldn’t.’

‘Wouldn’t I?’ She paused, taking pleasure in his
discomfort. ‘You’d better get going, Jack, or you’ll be late for your fancy piece.’

Next door, Tibs was working herself into a state about having Archie tagging along – one minute wanting to go and tell him he couldn’t come and the next telling herself not to be stupid. The trouble was, she so wanted the day to be a happy one for Polly that everything was getting on her nerves. She was even distressing herself about what she should or shouldn’t be taking with her and had wound up with a valise stuffed with enough gear to keep her supplied during a fortnight’s trip to lands with any climate known to man.

‘What’re we gonna take for you to bathe in, Kit?’ she wailed, flipping through the outfits on the clothes stand.

‘Bathe in?’ Kitty sounded horrified. ‘I don’t think I want to bathe.’

‘We probably won’t even go in, but just in case.’

Polly didn’t know what bathing was, but as with most things her mum talked about she made it sound like fun, so she wanted to do it, whatever it was. ‘Just in case, Kit,’ she said, copying her mother.

‘Yeah, just in case,’ joined in Tibs. She stabbed her thumb over her shoulder at a pale-pink, ruffled two-piece she had tossed on to the bed. ‘I’ve got me costume from the seaside routine.’ She suddenly grinned. ‘I know what you can wear.’

‘I haven’t got anything.’

‘Yes, you have.’ Tibs dived into one of the boxes of clothes that now littered the room. ‘You’ve got your second-best set of unmentionables. And with this long-sleeved chemise of your’n you’ll be a proper bathing beauty, won’t she, Poll?’

‘Yeah!’ squealed Polly.

‘No, Tibs, I don’t …’

‘It’s only just in case. Now put ’em on. Go on, Kit. And take your other set of underthings with you. You can put them in my valise. And we’ll take our towels. And you can use this to trim your hat.’ She threw a length of ribbon at Kitty, and laughed happily as it fluttered across the room. ‘I can’t tell you, Kit. This is like a bloody dream come true.’

It wasn’t even half past nine when they all met up outside the pub, but it was already stifling and the street was ripe with the choice medley of stinks and pongs that had hung about like a low-lying mist since the heatwave had first begun. But from the expressions on their faces as they stood there, all spruced up for their big day out and smiling fit to burst, anyone would have thought that Rosemary Lane smelt of violets and sweet lavender.

Tibs had on a white lacy dress, clinched at the waist with a scarlet satin tie, and Polly, also in white, had emerald-green ribbons tied in her hair, while Kitty’s frock was cream, with a contrasting sash of the deepest royal blue. To complete their outfits all three wore straw boaters, as did both the men – Jack having borrowed his and Archie’s slightly ill-fitting ones from members of the band.

Tibs looked at Archie in his newly pressed suit and freshly polished shoes, chuckling at Polly, who was bouncing around as if she were on springs. It seemed impossible that someone who looked so kind would be capable of doing anything so violent. And surely not just because she’d mentioned she wanted Albert out of the way? But confused as she felt, Tibs was certain of one thing: she had Polly being there to think about now. And she was her priority.

Archie looked up and saw Tibs watching him. ‘Er, hadn’t we better get a move on?’ he said,
self-consciously holding on to his bad arm. ‘Fenchurch Street station’ll be crowded on a lovely day like this.’

‘We’ll do better than that, Archie,’ said Jack, slapping him on the shoulder. ‘When the girls were kind enough to invite me along yesterday, I made a few enquiries and I came up with these.’ He pulled off his boater and took out five tickets that had been tucked inside the band. ‘We’re going along to the Old Swan Pier and we’re getting ourselves on a paddle steamer.

Being on the boat was a rare treat. There was a small, neat dining-room, serving freshly cooked food, with real cotton cloths and little vases of flowers on every table; a proper barber shop and another selling sweets; and even a miniature bar with a single curved counter, where a large proportion of the men – including Jack and Archie – seemed to have gathered for ‘just a swift one’ to quench their thirst ‘what with all the heat’.

Like most of the other women, Tibs and Kitty stayed outside, enjoying the refreshing breeze. With Polly tucked safely between them they stood at the rail, sniffing the increasingly salt air and staring down at the foaming water being thrown up by the massive paddles of the
Missie Lou
, as she made her stately way down the Thames towards the open mouth of the estuary.

‘This is better than being stuck in the Lane, eh, Kit?’ Tibs took a deep, appreciative breath. ‘Tell you what, I’d do this for fourpence an hour and wouldn’t even want extras for doing Sundays.’

‘It’s smashing all right.’ Kitty closed her eyes, and felt the fine spray cooling her face. ‘The freshest air I’ve smelt since I came up to London.’

‘And it’s nice, just us three being out here together.’

Kitty glanced at her. Tibs had seemed more relaxed since Jack and Archie had gone off for their drink.
Maybe she’d done the wrong thing saying Archie could come along; perhaps Tibs had felt that Jack shouldn’t be left out. But surely Tibs would have said.

‘I’ll have to be careful though,’ Tibs went on, her voice low and serious.

‘Why’s that?’ Kitty asked.

‘You know how small I am,’ she whispered to her friend, so Polly couldn’t hear. ‘If we get shipwrecked, you’ll have to promise to hide me somewhere.’

‘I don’t understand.’

‘You’ve read the penny dreadfuls, haven’t you?’

‘One or two.’

‘Well, I don’t wanna get mistaken for one of them little cabin boys and have the crew all gobble me up when they get desperate, now do I?’

Kitty, realising she’d been had, rolled her eyes and tutted. ‘Glad to see you’re back to your normal barmy self.’

Tibs laughed happily and gave Polly a squeeze. ‘You wanna see me really back to normal, Kit? Hold on to Polly’s hand for me and watch. It was a stroke I used to pull on Tower Bridge.’

Tibs kissed Polly on the cheek. ‘Mummy’s just gonna play a little game,’ she said, then peeled off one of her gloves and hid it deep in her pocket.

‘Just follow me, Kit, but don’t let on you’re with me. Got it?’

Kitty nodded and did as she was told.

About half-way round the boat Tibs stopped. ‘Here’s a bit of carriage trade if ever I saw it,’ she hissed out of the corner of her mouth. ‘Now, just stand back and learn.’

Kitty, with Polly by her side, watched as Tibs leaned on the railing and stared down into the churning waters.

‘Oh, my glove,’ she wailed in a girly little voice, then looked pointedly over her shoulder at the well-dressed man she had just targeted. She batted her eyelashes helplessly at him and held up the hand still wearing the cheap cotton glove.

‘Brussels lace.’ Her lip trembled. ‘A gift from my late mother.’

Lowering her gaze, she stared pitifully at the deck. ‘I’ll never be able to afford to replace them. It’ll break my father’s heart.’

‘We’ll have to see about that,’ said the man taking off his topper. Within moments he was encouraging his companions to throw coins into his hat.

Tibs protested.

He protested more strongly.

She protested again and pressed her gloved hand to her throat as he presented her with one pound, eleven shillings and fourpence.

‘I hope that will enable you to buy another pair,’ he said with a refined hint of a bow, then added more furtively, ‘May I escort you inside to the dining-room for luncheon?’

Tibs slipped the money into her bag. ‘Sorry, sir,’ she simpered, looking up at him through her lashes. ‘But my father wouldn’t approve.’ She dropped a dainty curtsey and added in her more usual cockney growl, ‘And he’ll be joining me as soon as he’s finished in the lav.’

The man didn’t flinch, he merely bowed again, replaced his topper, turned on his heel and was about to to walk away when Tibs said, just loud enough for him to hear, ‘And I don’t suppose your old woman would approve either for that matter.’

He strode off without another word.

Tibs returned to Kitty, glowing with success. ‘Did you
see his face?’ She twinkled. ‘Looked just like he had a brick in his hat.’

‘Tibs!’

‘What?’

‘You should be more careful. Who knows what he might have done.’

‘I knew. And anyway, it was only a laugh, and what was he gonna do on a boat full of people? I can look after myself, you forget that.’ She picked up Polly and swung her round. ‘And I can look after my little Polly Wally Doodle and all. Can’t I, babe?’

‘You look like you’re having a good time.’ It was Archie. ‘I asked Jack if he thought it’d be all right if I bought these for Polly.’ He held out a cone of paper. ‘It’s a few sugar mice from the sweet-shop.’

Tibs took them, but her face had become stony. ‘Maybe I’ll give ’em to her later.’

‘I’m sorry, I only thought …’

‘You don’t want her being sick all over the boat, do you?’

Kitty stared at Tibs’s rudeness. Whatever had got into her?

‘Here we are, sweetheart. Our first proper outing together.’ Tibs cuddled her daughter to her side and laughed at Kitty, who had to make a wild grab for the rail as the paddle steamer docked with a jolt against the pier. ‘Whitechapel-on-Sea.’

Jack took off his boater and scratched his head. ‘It must be this daft hat and the stiff collar I’m wearing. I’m not used to them, especially in this heat. But I could have sworn you said Whitechapel.’

Tibs smiled. ‘That’s what they call Southend, don’t they.’

‘Do they?’

‘Yeah. See all them people?’

He nodded.

‘Apart from a few locals, they’ll all be Londoners. Nearly every one of them.’

‘Attracts visitors like Blackpool, I suppose.’

‘Dunno, Jack, I ain’t never been there.’

‘That makes us quits then. I’ve never been here. So how about if you and Archie show us two out-of-towners what this place has got to offer and I’ll tell you if it matches up?’

Tibs cast a furtive glance at Archie and considered for a moment. ‘You want us two to show you round?’

‘Can we go, Mum?’ Polly pleaded. ‘Please. Please.’

She looked down into her child’s face. Tibs really didn’t fancy spending the day with Archie, but if that’s what Polly wanted how could she deny her?

What Polly actually wanted, what she
meant
, was that she was desperate to get away from the suffocating press of people, apparently all determined to disembark at the same time from the
Missie Lou
in case the stalls sold out of toffee apples, whelks and chipped plaster ornaments.

‘All right, Jack, you’re on,’ said Tibs, holding on to Polly with one hand and taking Kitty’s arm firmly with the other. ‘Follow me and I’ll show you all the sights.’

They started by hiking around the muggy town, looking at the rows of shops and restaurants, and marvelling at the crowds. They were used to the East End being packed, but the people there were usually doing something – working, fighting, or passing the time of day – but here everyone seemed to be just milling about doing nothing much at all except eating one kind or other of greasy-looking food.

Quite soon, the novelty of being part of the strolling,
sweaty, masticating throng began to pall, and even the stepping stones, laid across the High Street to protect the bottoms of ladies’ skirts, that had at first fascinated them – especially Polly, who had used them as a hopscotch pitch – could no longer distract them from the almost suffocating heat, and they made their way back to Marine Parade and the cooling relief of the sea breezes.

‘Blimey, I wish I could take me stays off,’ Tibs whispered to Kitty, who nodded in sincere, if frazzled, agreement.

‘And I wish I could take off this collar and get a bit of grub down me,’ said Jack with a wink.

‘Oi, you!’ Tibs said. ‘You weren’t meant to hear that first bit, it was girls’ business. But them pies don’t look half bad.’ She pointed to the gleaming display window of Schofield and Martin’s, the self-styled ‘high-class grocers’, where a pyramid of glossily crusted and fluted pork pies had pride of place.

Jack didn’t need two chances. He’d considered, for a very brief moment, taking them in to Mitchell’s Quality Chop House and Dining-Rooms for a fry-up, or meat and two veg, but the idea of being stuck inside on a day like this, while all dressed up like a suet pudding about to be steamed in the pan, was too horrible to bear. He was in and back out of the shop with a bag full of pies before anyone could argue.

He handed them out and they all began eating.

‘I’ll have to have a drink,’ puffed Tibs, spraying crumbs down her front. ‘Me mouth’s as dry as the bottom of a parrot’s cage.’

She shoved a damp strand of hair out of her eyes with the back of her hand. It stuck to the side of her face as if it had been pasted there. ‘How about if we stop here?’ she suggested, flopping against the wall and pointing
wearily to a street vendor selling lemonade from a big silver urn.

‘That’d be just right,’ gasped Archie, running his finger round his neck to try and loosen his stiff collar. ‘I’ll get ’em if you’ll help me, boss.’

Archie paid while Jack handed round five glasses of the cold, cloudy liquid.

‘Do you think young Polly here might have had enough of walking about the shops?’ Jack asked cautiously.

Polly looked over the rim of her glass at her mum, willing her to say yes.

‘I reckon she has,’ said Tibs, ‘but I thought you all wanted to see the town.’

‘We did, didn’t we, Kit?’ Jack said hurriedly, not wanting to spoil things by sounding unappreciative. ‘But maybe …’

‘It ain’t much fun when it’s sweltering like this, is it?’ Tibs took her glove from her pocket and wiped her brow. ‘How about if we go on the sands?’

Polly had her boots and stockings off and was in the water, while Tibs was still asking her if she’d rather paddle first or have a donkey ride.

Polly didn’t much like the look of the bad-tempered beasts carting the hot, bawling children up and down the beach, but the water and the muddy sand squelching up between her bare toes – she had never felt anything like it.