The Long Walk Home (14 page)

'Knowing him he'll be hitching a lift wi' a waggoner,' Mikey said. 'He'll probably overtake us.'

'Yeh, and he'll have had a good breakfast as well, I bet,' Bridget said. 'I'm hungry again.'

'Let's keep walking till dinner time,' Mikey said. 'And if we eat then it'll mebbe last us 'rest of day.'

But they had gone no more than a mile when they heard someone calling their names. 'Mikey! Bridget! Wait!'

They turned round and saw Simon waving. 'Wait,' he shouted. 'Please wait.'

'Shall we?' Bridget teased. 'Or shall we let him run to catch up?'

'He's running anyway,' Mikey said. 'We'd best wait on him.'

Simon was breathless and red-faced by the time he reached them. 'Oh!' he gasped. 'I thought I'd lost you. Phew! Where did you go? I looked all over for you. Why didn't you wait?'

'What happened to your face?' Mikey ignored his questioning. 'Have you been in a fight?'

'Yes.' Simon breathed heavily. 'Last night. I— er— well, I fancied a proper bed and as I had a bit of money left'— he didn't look at either of them as he spoke— 'I thought I'd try for lodgings.'

'Oh, really?' Bridget put her hands on her hips. 'Didn't bother about us, then! Didn't I say, Mikey, didn't I say that he'd gone looking for somewhere to stop 'night?'

Mikey nodded. 'You did say that, yes. So where did you go?'

'I went to a hostelry and asked if they'd a room.' Simon was shamefaced. 'But they were full up and the landlord suggested I went somewhere else. There were two or three fellows in there, older than me, who must have heard him. They followed me up the street, pushed me into an alleyway and told me to hand over my money. Well, I wasn't going to do that without a fight, but they gave me a beating and made me hand it over.' He put his hand over his mouth and muttered thickly, 'It was just like being at school again.' He blinked rapidly but Mikey and Bridget saw the tears. 'And then they started kicking me, saying I was a rich bastard, but then this apparition dressed in black suddenly appeared and frightened them to death. He set about them with a great wooden stick and they scarpered. I spent the night in a doorway and as soon as it was light I set off to find you. I thought you must have had a lift,' he added, 'and I'd have to travel on my own.'

'So who was it who rescued you?' Bridget asked curiously.

'He didn't say his name, but when I said I was with some friends and we were going to London, he said that he was heading that way and would catch up with us.'

'He'll have a job,' Bridget said scornfully. 'We're miles ahead.'

'He said he was getting a lift,' Simon said. 'Something about somebody owing him a favour.'

'Come on then,' Mikey said, 'let's get moving. We can't stand round here all day.'

Simon groaned, saying that he ached all over, but Mikey and Bridget ignored his complaints. Sleeping in doorways wasn't comfortable, they both knew that. Last night was the best night's sleep they had had since setting off on this journey.

The traffic on the road was heavy and they managed lifts several times in waggons and carriers' carts. It was close on midday when they were dropped off from a waggon which was turning in another direction. They trudged on, and hearing the sound of fast-moving hooves behind them looked round hopefully. But it was a four-wheeled clarence coming towards them and they knew that it wouldn't stop to pick up wayfarers.

They continued on, agreeing that they'd stop as soon as they came to a cottage or village to beg a sup of water or maybe buy a loaf with the money they had left, but they turned round again when they heard the hooves bearing down on them.

'Idiot,' Mikey muttered when he saw the driver standing up in his seat with his black coat billowing behind him and his whip raised, lashing the horses on. 'He's in a mighty hurry.'

Then the carriage slowed as it reached them. It was very shabby though once it had been smart; the red varnish was peeling, and the brassware was in need of polishing.

'Hey up, lads and lassie,' the driver called out. 'Do you want a lift?'

'Yes, please.' Simon rushed forward. 'I'm glad you caught us up.'

'Thank you,' Bridget said, following quickly.

Mikey held back. He took a breath. He would have known that mean face, the long nose and wild black hair, anywhere. This was a man he had hoped never to see again. Tully.

Mikey would have been the first to admit that without Tully they might not have got to London. Might even have died on the journey, for the weather had become cold and wet and the chances of work would have been minimal. Besides, the only thing he could offer to do for anyone was chop wood or bring water in from the pump. I'm useless, he had thought. No skill at anything.

Tully had grinned down at them from his perch, but hadn't at first recognized Mikey. They'd climbed aboard the rocking old carriage and had been hurled from one side to the other as Tully continued his nightmarish driving. Night was falling as they reached the outskirts of a town and Simon, hanging on to a leather window strap, peered out and said, 'Coventry. I wonder why he's come this way.'

'Coventry?' Bridget looked and felt sick and had been lying across one side of the carriage, leaving the two boys to sit at the other. 'Of course, you've been here before, haven't you?'

He turned to glance at her. 'No. Never,' he said, before turning back to the window.

She sat up and leaned on one elbow. 'You told us you had,' she said thickly. 'You said you'd been to Coventry.'

Simon snorted. 'I didn't mean I'd actually
been
here! It's a saying.
Sent to Coventry.
It means that nobody is allowed to talk to you.'

'Why?' she asked scornfully. 'That's stupid!'

He shrugged. 'I don't know. Something to do with the Civil War, I think. Don't ask me. I think that soldiers were sent to Coventry and no one would speak to them.'

Bridget lost interest and put her head down again. 'I wish we could stop,' she said wearily. 'I'd rather be walking.'

Mikey had been quiet on the journey. How was it that Tully was out of prison so soon? How had he been able to beg, borrow or steal a carriage? And if he had stolen it were the three of them implicated? It was too depressing to think about as he remembered his time in prison. He put his head back against the worn upholstery, closed his eyes and didn't open them again until he heard Simon and Bridget squabbling over Coventry.

The carriage slowed as it travelled through the town, and once or twice Tully stopped to ask directions. Finally he drew to a halt outside an inn with a swinging sign proclaiming it was the Town Wall Tavern.

'Come on,' he called to them, opening the carriage door. 'We'll stop here. Clear off and make yourselves scarce for an hour. I've some business to attend to.'

Simon got out of the carriage first, then Tully made a great show of helping Bridget down, but as Mikey stepped down Tully grabbed his arm. 'Hold on, feller-me-lad. Where've I seen you afore?'

Mikey swallowed hard. Would Tully remember if he didn't tell him? But he did remember. He suddenly shouted, 'Hah!' and pointed a bony finger. 'Course! Kingston Street. Quinn! What 'you doing so far from home? What's your ma going to say about that? Wise woman, your ma, if I recall.'

'She died,' Mikey told him miserably. 'I never saw her again.'

Tully patted his arm in a show of compassion which didn't fool Mikey at all. 'Tell you what, Quinn,' he said. 'You stop wi' me and I'll see you all right. You and your pals.' He winked at him. 'We'll mek our fortune in London, believe me.'

Tully spoke to Simon before going into the tavern, having tied the horses to a lamppost which couldn't possibly have contained them if they had seen fit to bolt, but the horses seemed as weary as Mikey felt and stood with their heads and necks drooping towards the gutter.

'Come on, Mikey,' Bridget called to him. 'Tully's given Simon some money for us to buy food and a drink, and he says we can travel to London with him. For free!'

For free, Mikey pondered. I don't think so!

An hour later, having had bread and cheese and a glass of ale each, they returned to the carriage. Tully wasn't there but two small boys were. They said they were brothers. One said his name was Sam and he was seven. He didn't know how old his brother William was, but he was younger than him and they were waiting for Mr Tully.

The carriage door was open so they all piled in. Mikey questioned Sam but couldn't get much sense out of him, except that Mr Tully knew his uncle and that he was going to look after them. 'He give 'im five bob,' he piped.

'Who did?' Bridget asked.

'Uncle Walter gave it to Mr Tully. It's for our board and lodgings.'

Tully came back with a short thickset man who didn't speak but climbed aboard beside Tully. The journey wasn't quite as hazardous as it had been before and they guessed the horses were too tired to go any faster with the extra weight. They made several more stops over the next three days, changing the horses once, and eventually reached the outskirts of the capital. Tully stopped the carriage at a tavern and they all trooped in to have more bread and cheese and stretch their legs. The two small boys were almost crying with tiredness and Mikey thought of his brothers and wondered how they were coping with life in the Hull workhouse.

'Next stop London,' Tully told them. 'It'll be dark when we get there and I want you all to be quiet. Do you hear?' William was snivelling and grousing and Tully frowned at him. 'Do you hear?'

Sam nudged his brother and the younger child raised his dark-shadowed eyes to Tully and nodded. Then he put his dirty thumb in his mouth and sucked furiously.

'We'll stay wi' a friend for a few days,' Tully said, 'and then we'll go to more permanent lodgings as soon as I've made contact with my associates.' He rubbed his mittened hands together. 'Then we'll start work.'

'What kind of work?' Mikey asked.

Tully patted his nose with a finger. 'Can't say just yet,' he said furtively. 'It's all hush-hush.'

The friend apparently lived in Whitechapel, which they approached as evening was drawing on. A fine drizzle was falling, which only added to the misery and degradation they saw around them.

'I say,' Simon whispered. 'I hope he's not expecting us to stay round here.'

'It's worse than 'back streets of Hull,' Bridget said in a low voice. 'Far worse.'

Although they were travelling in on the main road they could see blackened dwelling houses down the side streets, as well as mud-filled courts and alleyways, and in all of them shadowy groups of men, women and children, the men leaning against the walls, the women standing talking in their tattered clothing, their arms folded in front of them and their children, barefoot and half naked, playing in the dirt.

Mikey said nothing, only stared out of the window. So this is London. Here is where we are going to make our fortune. Doing what? It can only be illegal. This is why Tully's come here. He's too well known in Hull. London is so vast he can escape 'law. He'll hide like a rat in a warren and nobody'll ever find him.

The horses slowed and pulled to the left, and they were driving down a dark and narrow street. There were no gas lamps to light the way and Mikey wondered how Tully knew the directions, but then he realized that the friend they were staying with was probably the man riding at his side. Another thief, he thought cynically. We shall be in a den of thieves.

They drew up outside an unlit dwelling house which had an iron staircase at the front of it. They were ordered out of the carriage and told to wait, which they did, fearful and shivering, the two younger boys crying with wretchedness, whilst Tully and his associate drove the vehicle away.

Mikey took William by the hand and drew him close. 'It's all right,' he told him quietly. 'We'll be inside in a minute.'

'It's dark.' Sam came to stand beside him. 'William doesn't like it when it's dark.'

'I don't like it much either.' Bridget's voice came eerily out of the gloom. 'Where do you think Tully's gone?'

'Gone to bed down the horses, I should think,' Simon answered gruffly. 'This is a rum do and no mistake. I'm beginning to wish we hadn't come with him.'

Ten minutes later they heard the sound of boots and the murmur of voices and Tully and the man came back.

'Come on,' Tully said in a low voice, 'and no talking till we get inside. 'Lead on, Gilby.'

They followed Gilby up the staircase, scrabbling to find their feet on the slippery metal steps and holding on to the handrail, which was cold and wet to the touch, until they came to the top. Gilby fumbled with a key and opened a door, and a moment later lit a match which he put to a candle. They saw the interior of a room rather like a hayloft, with no window but half a dozen or so straw mattresses on the floor.

'You're not expecting us to stay here,' Simon began, but Tully hushed him, his finger raised.

'Onny for a night or two,' he said placatingly. 'I realize you're used to summat better, young sir, but good accommodation is hard to find just now. A few days more and we shall have somewhere more to your satisfaction.'

His eyes narrowed as he looked at Mikey and gave a sly grin. 'Better'n Kingston Street though, ain't it, Quinn?'

Mikey shook his head. 'Kingston Street was clean,' he muttered. 'This is filthy. You wouldn't keep a dog up here.'

'Well we ain't got no dogs,' Tully snarled. 'So you've to mek 'best of it.'

'Where's 'privy?' Bridget asked.

Tully nodded over to a corner where a metal pail was standing. 'That's for you fellers,' he said. 'And you empty it yourselves in 'morning. You, lassie, come wi' me and I'll show you.'

Bridget bit her lip and looked at Mikey. 'Come down wi' me, Mikey, will you?' she asked.

Tully leered at them both. 'How touching,' he mocked. Then he went to the table where the candle burned, picked up another stub and lit it from the first, then handed it to Mikey. 'At 'bottom of 'stairs turn left into 'alley and you'll see 'privy at 'bottom near to 'wall.'

Mikey took the candle and cupped his hand round the flame to prevent it from blowing out. They went back down the stairs.