The Long Walk Home (23 page)

'London Bridge! Pool of London!'

This was it; hurriedly she rose from her seat and joined the queue of passengers waiting to exit the vehicle.

The Thames lay before her and she was astonished at the mass of shipping lining its banks on either side. She wanted to linger awhile along the edge to look across the river, but found she was being carried like flotsam by the flow of people who were surging towards the granite bridge which spanned it.

Everyone was rushing with a swift intensity and she realized that they were probably on their way home from work, although there was a good deal of activity still going on down below on the ships. She followed the crowd, or rather was pushed along with it, on to the bridge where some were hurrying whilst others stopped and lingered, leaning over the railing to gaze down into the river, which rippled and glistened with a silvery light.

Eleanor took in the scene. She was overwhelmed by the sheer size of the bridge with its five arches, but although she was mesmerized by the view she was also overcome by the unlikelihood of finding her brother, a task which she now rather thought was an impossibility. So many people, so many grand buildings, warehouses, wharves, and storage sheds. Where to begin? She glanced round the crush of people to see if she could find a police constable as the other officer had suggested, but she couldn't see anyone resembling a person in authority. Down below there were wharves on both sides of the river, so she would have to start on one side and work along it. It was growing dark; gas lights were being lit in the buildings and were reflected in the water, showing a million twinkling stars.

She was scared. Scared by the number of people milling around, scared by the vastness of the area, by the noise and shouting of the men working below, and most of all by the gloomy darkness which was descending ever faster. What will I do when everyone has gone? Where will I spend the night? I must find lodgings; I can't walk about all night looking for Simon.

Eleanor had never in her life had to plan for eventualities. Her life had been mapped out for her. Breakfast, lunch and supper had been set at certain times. She knew when to get up and when to go to bed, for those times had been rigidly ordained since childhood and only supper time had been extended as she had grown older.

She came back off the bridge and set off along the road, glancing about her. So many tall buildings. They were there, she supposed, to serve the companies of the Pool. Further along and in between the buildings were narrow alleys and courts with ramshackle houses; not much better, she thought, than the shed where their handyman at home stored his tools.

Some of the houses had been turned into shops. I must enquire for information, she thought. Whom should I ask? Not a man, for it wouldn't be proper to approach a strange man and ask a question. And yet I must ask someone. Perhaps a shopkeeper? A woman would be all right. They must be asked questions all the time, for directions and so on. She set off at speed towards the nearest shop, which was selling fruit and vegetables.

A man stood behind the narrow counter and she asked nervously if she might speak to his wife. He grinned at her, showing blackened teeth.

'Ain't got one, darling,' he said throatily, 'but I'm on the lookout.' He winked at her and she beat a hasty retreat. Hurriedly, with a swift backward glance over her shoulder, she continued along the road. It was very dark now, and the road glinted yellow from the oil lamps in the shops and houses.

She approached another open doorway. Outside was a trestle table with vegetables and items of clothing on it. When she entered she was relieved to find a woman of about eighteen standing behind a line of orange boxes which seemed to serve as a counter; a young baby was balanced on one arm and in her other hand she held a scoop which she was dipping into a sack.

'Excuse me,' Eleanor said. 'Could you advise me if there are any lodging houses in the vicinity? Somewhere respectable?'

'Respectable?' the woman queried. 'Why? Ain't we all respectable round 'ere? I'd say as we are. Hey, Ma.' She called out to someone behind a lace curtain which Eleanor guessed might lead into a living room. 'Ma!' she shouted again. 'Somebody here wants somefing. Somefing respectable!'

'I didn't mean,' Eleanor interjected, 'I didn't mean that—'

The girl wasn't listening to her apologies but popping something into the baby's mouth.

'What 'you on about?' An old woman lifted up the curtain, and to Eleanor's surprise she recognized the woman who had directed her to the omnibus. She had shed her coat and was wearing a sacking apron over her dress.

'Oh,' she said. 'Found your way all right then did you, dearie?'

'Yes, thank you very much.' Eleanor gave her a trembling smile. 'I'm sorry to bother you again, but— but . . .' To her horror, she couldn't help but burst into tears. 'I'm— I'm looking for somewhere to stay the night,' she sobbed. 'I'm searching for my brother, and— and it's so dark and I don't know where to start looking.'

'Come now.' The old lady came through and took her by the arm, whilst the young woman, seemingly unconcerned, continued feeding the baby. 'Come through here wiv me and let's find out what the trouble is. Two heads is better than one,' she said sagely. 'And you stop feeding that child wiv biscuits,' she called out to the girl.

She led Eleanor through the curtain into a small room furnished with a table and four chairs. On the table stood a loaf of bread and a jug of milk. In the corner of the room a parrot in a cage was chattering to itself as it preened; the old lady threw a cloth over it.

'He talks non-stop when we have visitors,' she said. 'Can't shut him up. Now then, dearie.' She pulled out a chair for Eleanor and one for herself. 'Sit down and tell Aunt Marie all about it.'

Eleanor didn't tell her the full story, of course, but what she did tell Aunt Marie was that she was no longer able to live with her parents and so had come to find her brother who was now working in London.

'What? You've come all the way from the north to find him and you haven't got his address?'

Eleanor shook her head and dried her tears and accepted the small glass of ale which was offered to her. It was her first taste of alcohol and she didn't really like it, but she was thirsty as well as hungry, so she sipped it and eyed the bread on the table.

'You want some of that?' Marie asked her. 'I seen you lookin' at it. You can have a slice and welcome.' She got up from her chair, seized a knife and cut a thick slice from the loaf, which Eleanor took gratefully. There was no butter or jam offered with it and when Eleanor looked about her she saw that there was little else in the room that would serve as an evening meal.

Marie sat down again and placed both hands on her ample hips as she considered. 'Our Josh might know the name,' she said. 'He works below on the wharves. Got a regular job with one of the wharfingers; he's not one of your casual labourers ain't Josh, not one of the butcher, baker, candlestick-maker men down on their luck and desperate to earn half a crown.'

She leaned forward and spoke in a confidential whisper. 'He was doing all right till he married yonder tuppenny-ha'penny hussy. Caught him in a weak moment she did, flashing her Scotch pegs and getting herself pregnant when he was old enough to know better. Now she spends all he earns.' She sat back, pursing her lips and nodding her head. 'She reckons it's for the child, but I've seen the stuff she brings home, shoes and clothes and what not, and she pays nothing for her board and lodging!'

Eleanor made what she hoped were the right comments, but she really didn't understand half of what Aunt Marie was saying.

'Anyway, Josh might know your brother or the company he works for. He knows most folk hereabouts.' She sighed. 'But where will you stay? We've no spare bed, but you can sit in a chair by the fire, if you've a mind.'

'Oh, yes please,' Eleanor said eagerly. 'I would be so grateful if I could. I don't know what to do or where to go otherwise.'

'All right, that's settled.' Marie got up from her chair. 'Now then, I've to mind the shop whilst Dolly goes out for our supper. Can you manage to entertain the baby for a bit?'

'Oh, I think so. I don't know. I've never done it before.' Eleanor too rose from her chair. 'I'm sure I'll be able to.'

She followed the old lady into the shop and listened as she gave instructions to the girl to get pie and peas for four, and then took the child from her. 'And don't hang about,' Marie added. 'Josh will be here any time now and will want his dinner on the table.'

Dolly stuck her head in the air. 'What he wants and what he gets are two different things,' she said saucily. 'And don't let her drop 'im.' She looked pointedly at Eleanor.

Aunt Marie handed over the child. 'She won't drop 'im,' she said. 'Now go!'

Dolly tossed her head and flounced out of the shop, but then she came back. 'What about money? I ain't got any.'

Marie gave her a mean look and put her hand in her apron pocket. 'You've never spent what Josh gave you?'

The girl shrugged. 'Might have. Nuffink to do with you.'

Marie flung some coins towards her and Dolly had to scrabble on the floor to pick them up. They cast looks of hatred at each other as the girl went out again.

Eleanor took the baby into the other room and sat him on her knee. She had never held a baby before and thought of how many new experiences she was having. He was a sweet-faced boy, although very dirty and not very sweet-smelling. He put up his chubby hand to pat her cheek and when she smiled down at him he gurgled, spouting bubbles from his mouth.

She heard the sound of voices coming from the front shop. The child heard them too and bounced up and down on her knee, clapping his hands. 'Dada,' he chortled. 'Dada.'

A thick-set man with mutton chop whiskers ducked his head beneath the curtain and came into the room. The child held up his arms to be picked up.

'How's my little Tommy then?' Josh said. He was much older than Eleanor had expected him to be, and no matter that, according to his mother, Dolly had inveigled him into marriage, he was clearly delighted with his young son.

He threw the child into the air and Eleanor caught her breath in suspense. Dolly had warned her not to drop him and here was Josh tossing him up and catching him in his brawny arms, to the child's shrieking delight.

'So,' Josh said, looking down at Eleanor. 'You're a stranger to these parts. Come all the way from the north?' The way he said it, it sounded as if she was from a foreign country.

'Yes,' she said. 'I live— lived— in Hull and I've come to look for my brother. He's been in London for about five years, I believe, but we— I've only recently heard from him. His name is Kendall, Simon Kendall, and I think he works for someone called Manners.'

Josh shook his head. 'Never heard of 'em.' He lifted Tommy up towards the ceiling and gave him a little shake. 'You sure it's a legit company?'

'I'm sorry,' she said apologetically. 'I don't know what you mean.'

'I mean is it a proper company and not a fly-by-night? One that operates illegally— you know, handles stolen goods.'

'Oh,' she gasped. 'I'm sure Simon wouldn't do anything like that. He was brought up to be honest.' But as she said it, she remembered the money apparently stolen by Simon from her father's room, and the fact that she had sold some of her parents' silver; and, even worse, remembered why her father was being taken to court, and she flushed deeply.

Josh saw her blushes. 'Don't mean to upset you, miss, but there's always a lot of thieving at any dock or wharf. Folks set up in a warehouse or even in the back of a waggon and call themselves a company. They have men working from ships who offload to them and take a backhander. It's hard to know who's who.'

'I see,' Eleanor said huskily. 'Then I don't know. I only know we found a slip, probably from a packing case, printed with the name Manners Incorporated, and I assumed it was where he worked.'

'I'll ask around tomorrow,' he said. 'Somebody might know. Now then.' He tossed the child into the air again. 'Where's your ma got to with our supper?'

After a supper of meat pie and peas, a few pieces of coal were put on the fire. Eleanor was given a thin cushion to place on her chair and a crate to put her feet on. Josh, Dolly and the child went into the shop with rolled-up palliasses and blankets, and Aunt Marie curled up in a corner on a straw mattress with a blanket over her.

Eleanor was astonished that no one washed or changed their clothing before going to bed, and for her own personal needs she was taken out to a privy in the yard. There was a water tap on the wall beside it and she rinsed her hands before she came back inside.

It's very early for bed, she thought, but there's nothing to read and nothing to do, except perhaps have conversation, and maybe they get up very early. She gazed into the fire and listened to Aunt Marie's snores, and could hear low laughter coming from Dolly in the front shop and the rumble of Josh's voice. Then she heard grunting and banging and thought it sounded like someone in pain. But then she heard a shout followed by a laugh and all went quiet again.

Someone fooling about outside, I expect, she thought, and was comforted by the fact that Josh was so big and strong that he would quell any trouble should it come.

She barely slept, for she was uncomfortable on the straight-backed chair, and began to feel chilled as the fire burned low. There was one piece of coal left in the hearth, but no tongs, so she gingerly picked it up with her fingers and threw it on the fire.

The next morning Josh was up at five o'clock. He came into the room with a bucket of coal and, leaning over Eleanor, who was half asleep, he built up the fire and set the kettle over it, then cut a slice of bread from the loaf which had been left on the table overnight.

'Cup o' tea, miss?' he whispered as the kettle started to boil.

'Please,' she answered croakily. 'That's very kind of you.'

'That's all right. I'm always first up. I start work at half past five, or as soon as it's light, so I get my own breakfast.'