The Long Walk Home (9 page)

Milly sat on a wooden chair and crossed her legs. Mikey averted his eyes; she obviously didn't realize that her legs were showing almost up to her thigh. 'Have you got a lass?' She smiled as she asked it, her mouth turning up at the corners, and he thought how pretty she was, even though she was rather shabby and not very clean.

'A sister,' he said.

'No, I meant a girl friend; somebody you're walking out with.' She laughed as she spoke. 'Somebody to have a kiss and cuddle with.'

Mikey blushed up to his hair roots. 'No.' He thought of Bridget, who had kissed him through the cell bars. 'No, I haven't.'

She laughed again. 'Still pure and chaste, are you? You do right to come here!' She put her head back and hooted.

Mikey hung his head. Was it a laughing matter? Should he have been with a girl by now? He hadn't felt the need before, although sometimes he had avoided the company of girls like Bridget because of the physical sensations that came over him.

'Sorry.' Milly wiped her eyes. 'It's just that I don't get to meet many wholesome, decent men.' She leaned forward and touched his hand, and he drew it away. 'I didn't mean to laugh at you,' she said soberly. 'It's just that I've been corrupted. I'm sixteen and I've never before met a man or boy who didn't want to tek me to bed.'

'I wouldn't know what to do,' he mumbled.

'Somebody'll teach you,' she said softly. 'Onny don't be in a hurry. There's plenty o' time. How old are you?'

'Thirteen and a half.'

She blew out her cheeks. 'That's how old I was when I went on 'streets. It's different for lads, though, unless they're on 'game as well.'

Mikey drew in a breath. There was a whole world out there of which he knew nothing. 'I'm leaving 'district,' he said hurriedly. 'I'll be gone in 'morning.'

'Don't worry,' she said. 'You can stop here as long as you want. Nobody'll bother you.' She smiled again and her cheeks dimpled. 'And nobody'll proposition you. We onny do it for money, not for pleasure.'

Mikey licked his lips. 'Just suppose.' He wasn't sure how to phrase the question, but guessed that Milly would know the answer. 'I mean— if a lass got under a lad's blanket, would she be doing it to keep warm or cos she wanted— well, summat else?'

She gazed at him. 'How old would this lass be? Is she just a bairn, or older?'

'Older than me. About fifteen, I suppose.' He felt himself growing hot again just at the thought of it.

'Oh, well, in that case, definitely because she wanted summat else.' She grinned at him and he felt himself smiling sheepishly back at her. 'That's what you'd call a proposition, and if she didn't want any money from you,' she added, 'it's definitely because she'd tekken a fancy to you.' She waved a finger at him. 'However! Watch out, cos a lass as bold as that can trick you and tie you down and expect you to set up house wi' her.'

Mikey nodded. That was probably what Bridget wanted. Or at least to get away from home. He contemplated. It wasn't what he wanted. The more he thought about it the more he wanted to leave this town and find adventure. 'Thanks,' he said. 'That's what I thought.'

Milly got up from the chair. 'I'll have to go. I've not earned any money tonight. Keep an eye on 'bairn, will you? I'll just be outside.'

'What if he wakes up?' he said in alarm. 'I might be asleep.'

She waved an airy hand. 'He'll wake you. He meks a racket like 'artillery.' She glanced over towards the makeshift cot. 'He's 'best bairn in 'world,' she said softly. 'And one day he'll mek his ma's fortune.'

Mikey slept like a baby himself. He opened his eyes once and saw the bare feet of the women as they sat round the table, and then he dropped off again. He felt safe and secure huddled into the blanket, and didn't wake until dawn crept in and he blinked as the early sunlight touched his face. He turned over and saw Milly asleep in a chair with her head bent over the child in her arms. One breast was bare as if she had been feeding him, and he thought sadly of his mother, whom he remembered feeding Ben and Tom when they were little.

I'll try to do right, Ma, he offered up on a silent prayer. I'll not do anything to disgrace your name, even though I've already been in prison. But I've a life to lead, and a living to make, and it'll not be easy to keep on 'straight and narrow. I'll try to make something of myself without harming anybody.

Milly stirred. Opening her eyes, she saw Mikey and covered her breast. It seemed a modest thing to do, he thought, considering the kind of work she was in. She gazed at him and he saw defiance.

'Sorry,' he murmured. 'I didn't mean to stare.' He swallowed, half in embarrassment and partly with the need to explain. 'But you look beautiful.'

She gazed at him, and then shook her head. 'What a strange lad you are, Mikey,' she said softly. 'Nobody has ever said that to me before.'

Mikey stayed with the women for three days. They'd insisted that he did. 'You're still upset about losing your ma,' Sissy told him. 'Stop wi' us for a couple o' days until you feel better. We'll feed you and you can sleep here nice and safe and run errands to pay us back. How does that sound?'

It sounded good to him, for he was very weary and overcome with emotion. He was comfortable with this band of women. Six of them stayed at the house, and others came and went. Some of them he shrank from for they were coarse, with evil manners and voices, and dirty in their habits. But the others, Milly, Peg and Sissy, did attempt to keep clean, pumping brackish water into the kitchen sink and washing their hands and faces. Sometimes they stripped off their outer garments and then he made an excuse to go out. He saw them smile as if they knew why, but they didn't say anything to embarrass him.

On the fourth morning, which was bright and sunny but windy, he decided to leave. He folded up the blanket and put it over his shoulder. 'I'm going,' he said. 'Thank you for letting me stop, but I'd best be on my way.'

'Oh, Mikey,' Milly said. 'We'll miss you, and so will little Walter.'

Mikey stroked the child's cheek. 'I'll miss him too.' He smiled. 'He was just getting to know me. I'll come and see you if I'm this way again.'

'If you mek your fortune you won't want to,' Peg said sagely. 'You'll not want to be seen wi' likes of us.'

'Unless we can help you in any way, Mikey,' Milly said cheekily. 'I'd be happy to oblige.'

He flushed. 'I'll remember that,' he said, and then grinned. 'I might tek you up on 'offer.'

'Do,' she bantered. 'It'll be my pleasure and I'll give you a special rate!'

Whatever would my ma think, he wondered as he left the house and ran down the steps. Would she be mad at me or would she be pleased that they'd looked after me? For that was what they had done. They'd taken him into their care when he was feeling sad and vulnerable. Bridget's mother had taken him in too, but she was quick to blame and not charitable enough to listen or understand.

So which way shall I go? Shall I set off for London or go to York? York is nearer and I could walk there if I can't get a lift. But will there be work? There'll be work in London; sure to be. But how to get there? He rubbed his chin and set off through the town, avoiding any thoroughfares where he might have been seen by neighbours or people who knew him, such as Bridget or her mother, or even his sister Rose.

If I had some money I could catch 'ferry to New Holland and go to London that way. That's 'quickest route unless you're lucky enough to afford 'train, which I'm not.

'Mikey! Mikey!'

He turned as the voice called him. 'Please don't let it be Bridget,' he muttered. 'I'll never get rid of her.' He turned and saw her waving, but it wasn't Bridget calling his name. It was Milly, and she reached him first.

'Mikey! Phew! I thought I'd never catch you.' Milly was breathless. 'Look,' she panted. 'We had a collection for you when we realized that you hadn't any money. Here.' She thrust a fist towards him. 'Two bob and threepence.' She grinned. 'Don't know how far you'll get on that.'

He took the money and impulsively kissed her. 'Thanks. I'll get to London now,' he said eagerly. 'That's what I was planning. Do you think it's enough for 'ferry across 'Humber? I can walk 'rest of way.'

'Walk!' she said incredulously. 'How brave you are, Mikey. Wait till I tell 'other lasses. They'll be that proud!'

'Well,' he said bashfully, 'that's 'intention, anyway!'

'Wait,' she said and fished in her skirt pocket. 'Here. Another penny. No, tek it. I'll mek some more tonight.'

He wavered. It didn't seem right. Ill-gotten gains; money for— money for . . . But she was gone, a quick wave and a garbled excuse that she had to get back to Walter, and he was left holding a handful of coins.

'Mikey.' Bridget came over. 'Who was that?'

'Nobody you know,' he said abruptly.

'Huh! I know that all right.' She was scornful. 'She's a street lass, en't she? I've seen her about on a night.'

Mikey didn't answer, only shrugged.

'What did she give you?'

'Nowt to do wi' you.'

Bridget eyed him suspiciously. 'It's usually 'other way round. Men give them summat. For their services,' she added.

'How do you know?' he retaliated. 'Who telled you about such things?'

'I just know,' she said. 'I'm older than you so I know about women like that.'

Mikey turned away. 'Well you don't know everything and like I said, it's nowt to do wi' you. Anyway, I'm off. See you about.'

'Where you going, Mikey? Can I come?' She seemed anxious, yet eager.

'No,' he called over his shoulder. 'I'm going away and I don't know where.' He certainly wasn't going to tell her he was going to London, as she would want to come with him. 'I'm off to look for work.'

'Go on then, see if I care. You won't get far on your own,' she sneered. 'You was allus a mammy's boy. Allus being good!'

'What's wrong wi' that?' he snapped. 'My ma was a good woman. She'd not have turned anybody away if they were in trouble.'

He didn't say 'like your mother did', but that's what he meant and she knew it.

'That was my fault,' she said contritely. 'I didn't mean to get you thrown out of 'house.' She gazed archly at him. 'Ma wants me to stay pure till I'm wed. She thinks I'll be a catch if I am.' Her lips turned down in a cynical gesture. 'As if any man would know!'

He turned to her one more time. 'Some might,' he said. 'They're not all like me. Cheerio, Bridget. Be seeing you.'

He walked away, leaving her looking forlornly after him. No, she thought. They're not all like you, Mikey. But where was he going? He was heading towards the pier. She gave a gasp. I know! He's going to catch 'ferry!

She turned swiftly and ran back home, hoping that her mother wouldn't be in. She flew through the door and gathered up her few belongings, a shawl and an underskirt with a few coppers sewn into the hem. Then she searched for a stub of pencil and a scrap of paper, but finding none she called up the stairs to the woman who lived in the room above.

'Mrs Brown! Mrs Brown!'

When an answering shout told her the woman was in, but too idle to come to the top of the stairs, she yelled up to her, 'Will you tell my ma I'm going away for a bit? Tell her I'll be all right.'

The door upstairs opened and a blowsy middle-aged woman appeared, smoking a pipe. 'Where you going then?'

'Away,' she said. 'I'll be gone for a bit. Going to look for a job.'

'That'll be the day,' the woman grunted. She turned back into her room and shut the door.

'Thanks, you old cow,' Bridget muttered. 'I'll do 'same for you sometime.'

She hurried back across the town and headed for the pier. Mikey could be catching a market boat, she thought, and not necessarily the New Holland ferry. But where's he got 'money from, she wondered. Unless— what did that lass give him? She put something into his hand. Money. It had to be, but why? And where has he been since Ma threw him out?

She watched Mikey go into the ticket office and saw him come out a few minutes later looking down at something clasped in his hand. He's bought a ticket, she thought. He really is going away. How am I going to get on 'ferry? I don't have any money for 'fare.

Bridget had always been resourceful, artful some might have said, in getting her own way. If she was set on something then nothing would deter her, and she was set on Mikey. She checked the timetable on the wall and saw that she had twenty minutes before the boat departed.

She left the pier area and went round the corner of a building, arranged her shawl about her head and sat in the nearest doorway. With her head bent and her shoulders shaking, she began to rock and moan.

'Glory be to God,' she wailed softly. 'What am I to do?'

Several people passed her and glanced down. One or two men seemed about to stop but were urged on by their womenfolk, then as she peered from under her shawl she saw a lone man coming her way. He was in his early forties, rather portly, and wearing a dark tailcoat and top hat.

She raised her eyes heavenwards, knowing how appealing they would be. The deepest green with dark-fringed lashes. 'What am I to do?' she moaned. 'Who can I turn to?'

The man stopped. His face was florid, as if he'd been hurrying. 'Something wrong, miss? Are you begging?'

Bridget scrambled to her feet. 'Indeed I'm not, sir,' she said in the sweetest Irish accent, filched from her mother. She wiped her eyes. 'I need to get across the water. I came over yesterday to visit a sick relative and when I came to hand over my ticket to the clerk today it had gone. Lost,' she wailed. 'And I don't know how to get home. My poor mammy will be waiting for me to bring her news of her dead sister.'

'Dead?' He stared at her. 'I thought you said a sick relative?'

'Sure I did.' Bridget dropped her voice. 'But my poor auntie passed away not ten minutes after I got there.' She broke into sobs. 'And I've no means of getting home.'

'So, erm, where's home?' His eyes flickered over her face. 'Do you mean you were going on the ferry?'

Haven't I just said, she thought. Are you thick or something? 'Yes,' she hiccuped. 'To New Holland. I can walk 'rest of 'way. But I can't walk on water!' She crossed herself reverently.