The Long Walk Home (24 page)

She watched him as he spread his bread with some kind of fat from a jar; dripping, she thought, like Cook drains off the meat. I wonder what it tastes like.

He saw her watching him. 'Want some?' he asked with his mouth full.

She put her finger to her lips. 'Yes please.'

He cut another thick slice of bread and spread it with the fat, sprinkled it with salt and handed it to her, without a plate. As she took it she wondered vaguely if he had washed his hands this morning, but she bit into it and found it strangely satisfying, if rather greasy.

He cut himself another slice and ate it, then stood up and said, 'Must be off. I'll ask if anybody's come across your brother. But if I were you, I'd go down to the warehouses behind the wharves and ask there. You just might find somebody who knows him. Take care, though, and don't take any chances. Always ask for the manager or wharfinger and don't ask the men.'

She thanked him and he went off whistling, not bothering now about being quiet.

Once Aunt Marie, Dolly and the baby were up and had finished their breakfast of tea and bread, Eleanor said she was going to wander down towards the warehouses as Josh had suggested and make enquiries about her brother.

'You take care now who you're talking to,' Marie said. 'They're not all genuine dock labourers. There are some thieving bank clerks and so-called gen'lemen who are there to make a dishonest penny and would thieve from you as soon as look at you.'

'May I come back?' Eleanor asked. 'If I don't find Simon, I mean. I'm willing to pay you for your trouble.'

'Bless you, child, it's no trouble,' Marie said, but Eleanor noticed that Dolly turned up her nose.

Eleanor walked back towards the Thames. There were still crowds of people there and she came to the conclusion that this was how it always was; today there were stalls set up along the bank selling everything from tarnished jewellery and sweet-smelling lavender to whelks and jellied eels.

Although it was possible to walk along the embankment looking over the Thames, the docks and wharves below were blocked by the warehouses and they stretched for miles. It was like another town with buildings crowded one against the other. Nevertheless, she found her way down there and chose the first passageway between two warehouses. Immediately someone shouted at her that it was private property so she turned back and ventured through another entry.

Some of the routes through went straight down to the river; others were obstructed by buildings or sheds, and she came to the conclusion that these had been built after the larger structures, almost as if someone had come along with a barrowload of wood, found a space and put up a structure.

Someone else called out to her. 'Who you looking for, miss?'

'I'm sorry if I'm trespassing,' she said. 'But I'm looking for Manners Incorporated.'

'Who?' The man took off his cap and scratched his head.

'Manners Incorporated. They're an import company, I believe.'

'Hang on a minute,' he said, and shouted to someone. 'Bill! Do you know anybody called Manners?'

The workman, who was pushing a barrow, called back, 'Never heard of him.'

'Sorry, miss, can't help you. And I have to tell you that strangers are not welcome here.'

'I need to speak to a manager,' she said, remembering what Josh had said, 'or a wharfinger.'

'I am a manager,' he told her and she was astonished, for she thought that a manager would at least wear a coat and trousers and not a pair of greasy breeches and flannel shirt.

'I beg your pardon,' she said, and in a small voice added, 'It's just that I'm looking for my brother and I don't have any more information than that name.'

'Well, I'm really sorry, miss. Try the company offices; they would know.'

She thanked him and turned back and went in search of a company office. But again she drew a blank. No one had ever heard of Manners Incorporated or her brother Simon. Now she was beginning to have doubts. Perhaps after all the slip of paper had got into the letter by mistake and was nothing whatever to do with Simon.

In which case, she pondered, as she walked with aching feet back towards Aunt Marie's house, I'll have to go home. Prudently she had set aside some of the money from the sale of the silver, which would pay for the return journey, but she felt melancholy at the prospect of it. How can I face up to the shame of my father's disgrace and my mother's downfall? Her friends and Mr Walton's will know about it and will be constantly tittle-tattling, and how can I live with that? What do I do about the servants? Suppose we lose the house, and what will I do for money?

Over and over she put the questions to herself, but she found no answers.

She was exhausted by the time she reached the shop; she had walked and walked and had been appalled by the poverty she had seen in the district beyond the port area. Rows of dank, dark, one-roomed cottages, little more than blackened wooden boxes with old women sitting outside, stretching out their hands as she approached. Dirty barefoot children followed her begging for a penny for bread, and men crowded outside beer shops turned to watch as she passed, making her feel uneasy and vulnerable.

She hadn't eaten all day, for she hadn't seen anywhere where she would have wanted to buy food, and had merely taken a drink of water from a pump, but when she walked into the shop she was met by the smell of boiling cabbage and onions emanating from the back room.

Eleanor swallowed. She was hungry, but the stench of cabbage was overpowering. Dolly was in the shop with the baby, but she didn't speak when Eleanor came in.

'Is Aunt Marie in?' Eleanor asked. Dolly tossed her head towards the back room.

Marie was stirring the contents of a pot on the fire and muttering to herself. She looked up when Eleanor came in. 'That young— young,' she took a breath, '
madam
! She's spent every penny our Josh's earned and there's nuffink left till payday. He needs plenty of food for his kind of work and all I could scrounge was cabbage and onions. I sold all that lot I bought the other day!'

'I'll buy something,' Eleanor said eagerly. 'I must pay you back for your hospitality.' She fished into her purse and brought out a shilling. 'Here,' she said, holding out her hand. 'Take this. Please.'

The old lady looked at it. 'A shilling!' she said incredulously. 'A bob! You can't go giving that sort o' money away.' She blew out her cheeks. 'Gimme a tanner if you've got one, that'll be plenty.'

It didn't seem much, Eleanor thought as she put the shilling back in her purse and handed over sixpence, but perhaps I can give her something another day. If I'm still here. If Josh hasn't found out anything about the Manners company, then I'll have to go home. There's nothing else I can do.

Josh came in hungry from work and was angry that there was only soup and bread for his supper. He shouted at his wife for being a spendthrift but she shouted back that he should take on extra work seeing as they had to keep his mother as well as themselves and their child.

'Ma makes money from the shop,' he bawled at her and Eleanor cringed. 'We managed well enough before.'

Eleanor was sure he was about to say before he married her, but Dolly picked up young Tommy and said they would go home to her own mother if that was how he felt.

Josh immediately calmed down and Eleanor felt sorry for him. Yet how could Dolly threaten him with taking his son, she wondered, when Mama had said that she had no rights over Eleanor herself? She said I would have to stay with my father. Perhaps it's different with poorer people.

She discovered that Marie took trips into town and scoured the backs of restaurants and cafés asking or sometimes searching in refuse pails for scabby vegetables that had been thrown out.

'Round 'ere, darling, they ain't so particular about a bit o' mould or caterpillar,' she told her, 'but not all of 'em can get on a bus into town. You wouldn't believe what those West End cooks throw out, so I rescue it and sell it on for a copper or two. We ain't poor, but we ain't rich either, so it buys a few extras.'

Marie gave Dolly a penny and told her to go out and get some of yesterday's bread, if there was any left, to augment the soup. Dolly took it sullenly and went out muttering that she hadn't known she was going to be an errand girl or she would never have come, but Marie ignored her comments and poured milk into a cup for Tommy and spoon-fed it into his mouth.

'Did you find out anything about Manners?' Eleanor asked Josh diffidently. 'Did anyone know of them?'

Josh pulled a wry face. 'Well, yes and no,' he answered. 'None of the regular men had heard of them, but we've had a casual labourer working for us and when I asked him he seemed a bit cagey. When I pressed him and said somebody was looking for a relative, he opened up a bit. He said he'd worked at Cinnabar Wharf a few months back, down Wapping way. It deals in tea, coffee, spices, that sort of commodity, not like St Katharine's where I work. We handle valuable cargo: ivory, marble, wines and so on; that's why we have more regular workers. You'd never get on to our wharves, security's that tight.

'Anyway, this fellow said that he'd worked, casual like, wiv a company and he was a bit suspicious as to whether it was a proper set-up, so he left as soon as he'd got a promise of other work. Didn't want any trouble, he said, just a regular job.'

'Oh,' Eleanor breathed. 'And did it have a name, this company?'

Josh nodded. 'It did. When he worked for 'em, it was called Manners Incorporated, but he said it might have changed its name since.'

Eleanor took a breath. So at least the company did exist. But could she find it?

'If you get up early tomorrow morning and come out wiv me, I'll show you how to get there,' Josh offered. 'Maybe get you a lift, cos it's quite a stretch. You must be careful,' he warned her for the second time. 'There are some mean streets round there and the folks working on the wharves and in the warehouses won't be pleased to have a stranger asking questions.'

She agreed that she would be careful and told him how grateful she was.

The next morning they rose at four thirty; Eleanor felt that she hadn't slept all night. Her bones ached with sitting up in a chair for the second time. She gratefully swallowed a cup of tea but refused a slice of bread and dripping. She rinsed her hands and face under the outside tap, ran a comb through her hair and was ready.

It was still dark when they left and in silence she scurried alongside Josh's long stride. They reached the main thoroughfare and joined other workers who were tramping towards their places of work. She felt that they had walked miles but presently she heard the clatter of hooves and the rumble of an omnibus.

'Come on!' Josh urged her, grabbing her arm. 'This one's going to Wapping. Hop on and ask to be put off at Cinnabar Wharf. Ask for directions when you get there. Can you find your way back?' He pushed her aboard.

'Y-yes, I think so. What's the name of your street?' she called back as the vehicle rumbled away and Josh receded into the distance.

'Marble Grove,' he yelled. 'Anybody will tell you where it is.'

The omnibus was only half full and the passengers, she assumed, were clerical workers, for they all wore jackets, shirts and trousers, unlike the men walking to work who wore heavyweight trousers, flannel shirts and waistcoats, with mufflers round their necks and caps on their heads.

The conductor put her off at the nearest stop to Cinnabar Wharf and told her she should walk down to the river via the embankment. 'Then you must ask again,' he called out. 'You might not be allowed on.'

'I know, I know,' she muttered beneath her breath. 'I might not be let on and I must be careful.' But it's broad daylight, she thought. What harm can become of me at this time of day?

As she walked, she was aware of curious glances coming her way. It was mostly men walking to work, and the few women who were there were very shabbily dressed. Eleanor was very conscious of her own warm coat and hat. I'm as conspicuous as a monkey in a cage, she thought. I should have borrowed one of Aunt Marie's shawls; but then she thought that probably the old lady would only have the one and couldn't spare it.

Eventually she noticed that the men were peeling off the road and going towards the warehouses, and that in front of her was a high fence guarding the entrance to the river frontage. She sat on a low wall overlooking the river and contemplated her best course of action.

I'll rest my feet a little, she thought, and wait for the men to get to their places of work. Then in half an hour or so I'll cut back up one of the streets and approach the warehouses from the top.

She watched the shipping on the Thames as she sat, and wondered where it was going. Some of the ships were huge and she guessed they were bound for other countries. She thought of her mother who would soon be taking a ship abroad with Mr Walton. Other vessels were barges carrying goods to other ports; some were laden with cables and heavy industrial material and some were lighters which had offloaded directly from the ships and were now heading towards the wharves to deliver their cargo into the warehouses. On the other side of the Thames it was a similar scene, ships lining the bank, loading and unloading, and she could hear the shouts and calls of the men as they worked.

After a while, she got up and walked back the way she had come to allay suspicion in case anyone had been watching and was curious about her. Then she cut up one of the roads leading away from the river and discovered a whole new world she hadn't known existed.

The buildings were cramped together in what seemed like blackened heaps of brick. Women and children stood in open doorways and portrayed such hopelessness that Eleanor wanted to cry in sympathy.

A woman came towards her with one child in her arms and another she held by the hand. 'Will you take one of my girls, miss?' she said. 'I can't afford to feed 'em all, and I've a child here at my breast and no milk for him.'

Eleanor put her hand to her mouth and stared at the woman. 'I'm sorry,' she whispered. 'I can't! I have nowhere to take her to. I have no parents of my own.' A small stretch of the truth, she thought, but she had no time to explain the situation. 'I'm looking for my brother,' she added. 'I hope he'll be able to help me.'