A Winter Baby for Gin Barrel Lane

by Lindsey Hutchinson

  ‘Nellie, I would be ever so grateful for your help. To be honest, I’m finding everything a bit much at the moment.’

  ‘I daresay, what with this place, the Palace, the Emporium and the brewery, it’s a wonder you ain’t on your knees.’

  ‘It’s not that so much, it’s…’

  ‘What? You ain’t ill, are you?’ Nancy asked, concern written all over her face.

  ‘No. Ladies, I’m going to have another baby, but Jack doesn’t know yet, so…’ She got no further as she was smothered with excited hugs from both women.

  ‘That settles it, then, give me those keys. You leave the ordering of the furniture to me an’ all,’ Nellie said.

  ‘Thanks Nellie. Oh, the bed linen is coming tomorrow, and Sadie and Alice are coming to stock the pantry and kitchen because those deliveries are due also. The house mothers are moving in at the weekend so hopefully the children can too.’

  ‘If the rest of the beds arrive, that is,’ Nancy said.

  ‘Fingers crossed,’ Dolly replied.

  Once the delivery men had gone, Nellie locked up and they climbed into the cab Nellie whistled for at the end of the drive.

  ‘I’m going to tell Jack about the baby when I get back,’ Dolly said.

  ‘He’ll be over the moon!’ Nellie said.

  Dolly hoped so.

  The cab dropped Dolly off at the Emporium and took Nellie and Nancy home. Bess was cuddling Joseph as she walked in and Dolly led Jack to the quiet dining room.

  ‘What’s up?’ he asked.

  ‘Jack, I know we have a lot on our plate at the moment, but I hope you’re ready for a bit more. We’re going to have another baby!’

  Jack’s face lit up and he hugged her. ‘That’s the best news I could ever have hoped for.’

  ‘I’m glad you’re pleased but, Jack, Joseph is only a few months old. I don’t want to spend the rest of my life being pregnant. You do understand that, don’t you?’

  ‘I don’t bloody blame you! I promise we’ll be extra careful, sweetheart,’ he said gently.

  Dolly smiled and nodded, then they went to share their news with everyone.

  ‘I’m knocking off early today, Bess, so I can carry Joseph home,’ Jack said once the congratulations had died down.

  ‘Good idea,’ Bess concurred as she gave the baby a little kiss on the forehead.

  A cab rolled up as they left the Emporium. ‘Need a ride, Jack?’

  ‘Certainly do, George,’ Jack replied.

  The cab left the Emporium and took them home, where they had decided they would share the news of Dolly’s pregnancy.

  ‘Your mum and Nancy know already, but they promised not to tell until you knew. Sorry, I couldn’t help but tell them,’ Dolly said.

  ‘Everyone will know by now, then,’ Jack said with a grin, reminding Dolly fondly of Aggie.

  The days passed and by the next weekend all the runners were in their new home, along with the house mothers. Dolly was informed they were awaiting two more beds, but sisters were sharing until they arrived.

  Nellie volunteered to take charge of keeping the accounts for Aggie’s Place, which now sported a new name plate. She would liaise with Andrew Sharpe when he audited the books. A separate bank account was set up for expenses which Nellie could access, and Dolly was thrilled it had all gone so smoothly. The furniture was delivered and installed and new clothes were bought for the children along with good boots. Dolly was relieved when Mr Blessep told her there was still a good sum of her inheritance left over for the running of the home for years to come.

  The runners, of course, continued with their chosen profession and had decided amongst themselves that now they were well fed and cared for, all their tips would go towards the household expenses.

  Dolly stayed home more now that her pregnancy was progressing, and so it was that Eli arrived one morning to say that the brewery site was finished. Dolly was delighted and she made a special journey to the bank with Eli so he could be paid immediately.

  On her return, John Jeffries was waiting for her. Her new manager showed a relatively short list of things which needed replacing and said, ‘We can get going whenever you want.’

  ‘Excellent! Are you able to negotiate with suppliers and buyers?’

  ‘I can do that whilst the lads get set up,’ he answered.

  ‘Thank you, John. Carrying another baby is taking it out of me,’ she said.

  ‘Congratulations, Dolly, that’s good news – about the baby, I mean.’

  They laughed together, then Dolly said, ‘The increase in wages will start next week and the bank is aware that you’ll be collecting the wages every Friday morning.’

  ‘Thanks, Dolly,’ he said before he left.

  The following weeks fled past and the brewery became active and thriving once more. John Jeffries was worth his weight in gold, working hard to negotiate good prices for supplies, keeping accurate tallies and organising deliveries to go out on time. The brewers whistled and sang, happy to be in work again and earning a good wage. Dolly had little to do other than keep an eye on the accounts, although she visited Aggie’s Place often in the hope of seeing the children. She rarely did for they were usually out running, but she enjoyed tea with the house mothers as often as she could.

  The gin palaces were always packed to the rafters and the dining room at the Emporium was full every night, the customers often spilling into the bar to enjoy the music.

  Early one morning, as she was relaxing with a cup of tea, Dolly received a letter.

  Opening the envelope, she read the contents and smiled. ‘It’s from Wilton!’ she said, passing the letter to Jack. ‘Mrs Burton is having another baby!’

  ‘Aww, that’s nice,’ Alice commented.

  ‘Good news indeed,’ Dolly said.

  ‘Let’s hope and pray this one survives because the poor bloke and his wife deserve some better luck,’ Sadie added.

  Dolly nodded and thought herself fortunate to be so happy with Jack.

  Her thoughts drifted back over time to when she first met the man who would be her husband. Found lost and alone, Jack’s family had taken her in off the streets, and helping behind Nellie’s bar had given her a love of the gin palace trade and its patrons. She recalled how she and Nellie had bought the Daydream between them and how she had gone on to acquire other premises through hard work and determination.

  She felt blessed that the staff hired had, over time, become friends and her thoughts lingered on the woman who had made everything possible. Aggie. Dolly sent up a silent prayer of thanks to her benefactor.

  She and Jack only had one wish now, which was for Dolly to deliver their child with no risk to either of them.

  That wish came true in September when the seasons were changing their colours again. Green leaves turned amber and gold and slowly began to drift to the ground. A chill was felt in the early morning and fires were lit once more all over the town.

  It was mid-way in the month and late at night when Dolly felt the first pangs of her labour. She and Jack were delighted when Dolly finally gave birth to a daughter. Both mother and child were safe and well and Aggie Larkin soon let everyone know she had arrived.

  References

  Bostin’ Fittle by Pat Purcell

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  Black Country Dictionary and Phrase Book by Steve Edwards

  More from Lindsey Hutchinson

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  1

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  ‘Jack Larkin, get yer arse in here NOW!’

  ‘I ’eard you, I ain’t deaf!’ Ten year old Jack yelled in response to his mother’s call.

  ‘Don’t you back-chat me my lad or you’ll find yerself out on the street with nowt but the clothes on yer back!’ Nellie Larkin shouted, her hands on her ample hips. A single nod set a grimy mob cap wobbling on prematurely greying hair which could not be contained by its pins. Nellie wore a full apron which, although once white, was now stained and a similar colour to her hair. The dress beneath had also seen better days and the hem at her boots was ragged and worn.

  Jack gave her the once over and shook his head. In contrast to his mother he was tall for his age and slat thin which belied his strength. His dark hair was thick and his brown eyes held a constant mischievous twinkle. His old trousers fell short of his boots and the collar and cuffs of his shirt were almost transparent. His jacket was threadbare at the elbows and his muffler was old and dirty. His flat cap, however, was brand spanking new having recently been liberated from a market stall, and Jack wore it with pride.

  ‘Get on t’other end of that bar and get serving,’ Nellie swung out her fat arm and Jack ducked just in time to avoid it colliding with his head.

  Walking to the end of the long wooden counter, Jack surveyed the room. It was packed full of men and women drinking gin – as much as they could pour down their throats. The noise was deafening as some folk argued and others sang loudly. Women screeched with laughter as people came and went through doors which seemed never to be still. There were no chairs or tables, just a mass of bodies lit by the gas light chandeliers hanging from the ceiling. The etched plate glass window was obscured from Jack’s view as men pushed forward to be served their half pint of mother’s ruin.

  Jack filled a glass from a bottle on the counter and picked up the coins. A row of huge casks stood behind him which were backed by large mirrors reflecting the light back into the room.

  Serving another drink, Jack took the money and threw it into the massive black till with the handle on the side.

  Feeling Nellie’s eyes on him, he ignored her and continued to fill glasses and take coins. He knew his mother didn’t trust him – she didn’t trust anyone where money was concerned – but he would never steal from her. Thieving outside of family was necessary on occasion, and Jack had no qualms about helping himself to something he needed – like his new cap. After all, Nellie gave him nothing except his food and somewhere to sleep and a bawling out now and then. But all in all, Jack didn’t think it a bad life; there were others in far worse circumstances than his. Some were forced into the workhouse; more were living on the street, so residing in his mother’s gin palace was what could be considered a fairly good existence.

  Jack reflected on this as he watched a man, who had been leaning against the wall, slowly slide to the floor without spilling a drop of his precious drink.

  Gin – the opium of the masses. With a smile, Jack’s attention was caught by a small hand tapping a coin on the counter. Standing on the sturdy wooden box that ran the full length of the bar, Jack leaned forward.

  ‘Hello Ginny – usual is it?’ he asked with a grin.

  ‘Yes please, Jack,’ the little girl said, passing over her money and a jug.

  Filling the jug, he handed it to his small customer. ‘You want me to see you home?’ he asked amid the noise of the bar.

  ‘No, s’all right, I can manage,’ Ginny answered.

  Jack nodded and watched her thread her way through the crowd being careful with her important cargo. He knew if she dropped it she would be given the hiding of her life.

  ‘Stop lollygagging and get serving!’ Nellie’s voice soared over the hubbub of the bar.

  Jack took a deep breath and closed his eyes tight for a few seconds, trying to hold on to his temper. As he went back to his work, he recalled the last time he had stood up to his mother. They had argued about Jack needing new boots. Nellie was loath to part with her money, even when Jack had showed her the soles he had fashioned from waste cardboard and tied on with string to cover the holes. With the profit she was making, Jack could not understand why he couldn’t have a couple of pennies to buy second-hand footwear from the market. He had protested loudly at her refusal to provide the necessary funds which had subsequently earned him a sound beating. To add insult to injury, Nellie had battered him with the very boots they had disagreed about. With a few bruises and no money for arnica to ease them, Jack had fumed in silence for days. The question he kept returning to was – did his mother love him? Because, if he was honest, much of the time he felt unloved and only wanted for the work he could undertake.

  Just then his attention was drawn to two burly men in the corner, their raised voices heralding an imminent fight. Jack glanced at Nellie who jerked her head towards the crapulous men and he sighed. Climbing over the counter he jumped down and pushed through the throng of unwashed bodies, all the while thinking, ‘I shouldn’t be doing this – I’m only a kid!’

  Walking over to the men, he shoved himself between them. Looking up at the first one and then looking to the other Jack yelled, ‘Nellie sez to take it outside or shut the hell up!’

  Simultaneously, the men glanced over at the large woman behind the bar and were immediately cowed by her frown. Jack nodded and returned to his post behind the bar wincing at Nellie’s look which he was certain could sour milk. He heaved a sigh of relief when he saw those same men laughing and clapping each other on the back. He hated being sent to break up fights or disagreements; he could be hurt badly if one of those big blokes turned on him. So far he’d been fortunate, but how long would his luck hold out? One of these days he’d find himself thrown out onto the streets with his brains mushed from a pounding.

  When a toothless old woman called Aggie picked up her skirts and began to sing and dance, Jack knew it was going to be a long night.

  Early the following morning, Jack sprinkled sawdust on the bar-room floor to soak up the spillages, then began to sweep it out of the door and onto the street. The chill of early spring caused him to shiver as he looked around. The Crown Saloon where he lived with his mother, and which depended largely on passing trade, stood on the intersection between the tramway and Bailey Street and had been affectionately nicknamed Gin Barrel Lane by the locals.

  Nodding to passers-by, Jack leaned on the besom and contemplated his surroundings and his life. Dirty cobbled roads, grimy buildings, their windows so filthy they shut out the light. Detritus of all sorts in the streets which threw off foul odours on hot days. Tramps and beggars loitered further towards the centre of town hoping for a hand-out from a kind stranger. There were out of work men standing on street corners grumbling about the poverty, some even having to accept the ticket to the workhouse for themselves and their families.

  This was the heart of the industrial Black Country in the centre of England. It certainly lived up to its sobriquet, for everything was constantly covered with a layer of coal dust. Birmingham, a town growing rapidly which boasted a market hall housing six hundred stalls built at a staggering cost of twenty thousand pounds. Also built at an enormous cost to the town was New Street Railway Station which had opened three years previously.

  Jack was unable to comprehend such a figure, seeing as he was more used to working with pennies. He did, however, like a stroll around the market on the rare occasion he was let out of The Crown Saloon.

  The bar’s name triggered thoughts of Victoria, the English monarch, then on hearing the lilt of an Irish voice, his mind shifted to the great potato famine in Ireland five years ago. This had prompted a mass migration to the mainland as many came seeking work.

  The screech of Nellie’s voice broke his train of thought and with a last sweep of his broom Jack re-entered the bar-room.

  ‘Oh, there you are! Stop clarting about and get some bloody work done!’ Nellie yelled.

  ‘What do you want doing now?’ Jack asked, feeling exasp
erated.

  ‘That new cask of Ladies Delight needs bottling and diluting – you know what to do, I shouldn’t have to keep reminding you,’ Nellie said as she pushed Jack towards the cellar steps.

  ‘Are the bottles washed then?’ Jack called over his shoulder.

  ‘Yes, Poppy did ’em yesterday; gave ’em a good scalding she did.’

  In the cellar, Jack began his task of half filling bottles from the cask, and his thoughts lingered on Poppy Charlton, the barmaid.

  The Charltons had been forced to accept the ticket into the workhouse when Poppy was a child, and there she had been torn away from her parents to be put in the girls’ dormitory. At fifteen years old she had signed herself out, preferring to take her chances on the street rather than live another minute in that dreadful place. She had ended up on their doorstep all skin and bone, begging for work. Nellie had taken her on as a scullion; cleaning and washing, and before long she had been promoted. Now, at eighteen, she had attained the position of barmaid and was popular with the customers. Tragically, when she had revisited the workhouse in search of her family, she had learned they had passed away.

  Jack saw Poppy in his mind’s eye, her blonde curls bouncing and her blue eyes sparkling. She was a beautiful young woman and admired by many who would have willingly taken her as a wife. She could be a force to be reckoned with too, for on many occasions she had saved him from a beating. Knowing Nellie could not manage without her now, more than once Poppy had threatened to walk out, taking Jack with her. She had made herself indispensable and Nellie was fully aware of it. Her bright disposition and sunny nature drew the crowds in, but to Jack she had been his protector and he loved her for it.

  The thought made him smile as he topped up the bottles with water and stoppered them with corks; then stacking them in a crate he carried them up into the bar. Placing them in their rightful place in the space beneath the counter, Jack returned to the cellar to repeat the process.