‘You ain’t!’ Nellie exploded.
‘How would you know?’ Nancy turned away grumbling under her breath as she saw to the mutton simmering on the range.
When the brothers returned, each held a bundle of clothes which was everything they owned. Nellie felt sad for them; all they had to show for a lifetime was a few old rags. She led them upstairs and left them to settle in, saying a cup of tea awaited them when they were ready.
Whilst they were collecting their belongings, Nancy had made up the two beds. Now she was serving up a meal of mutton stew with fresh bread.
A clattering of boots on the stairs had her smile turn to a laugh as the Dempsters jostled to be first through the doorway. Although in their twenties, they had a boyish charm which endeared them to everyone they met. There was no doubt Nancy would sleep better knowing these young men were on guard duty every night.
Nellie closed the saloon for two hours whilst everyone ate together and was introduced to each other. The customers complained loudly but Nellie laughed it off saying they would be open again shortly.
As they ate, Nellie glanced around at her expanding family, for that’s how she saw it.
First her friend, Nancy, had come to her after the loss of her husband and baby. Then she had taken in Jack as a baby. Poppy had turned up starving and alone and was drawn in. Dolly had found her way to them almost as though she’d been led by an invisible thread. Frederick Dell had come next and now the Dempsters. Nellie felt in her heart it was meant to be; that a higher force was looking out for them.
She enjoyed the chatter going on around her and the giggling as Noah Dempster teased Jack and Dolly with a ‘magic’ trick. Frederick’s deep belly laugh boomed across the kitchen as he joined in the joviality but his eyes never strayed from Nancy for long.
Nellie knew then, that each time she had brought someone into her home it had been the right decision. She just prayed she would not be proved wrong in the future.
After a couple of hours of light-hearted frivolity, Nellie opened the saloon doors and allowed folk to pour inside and rush to the counter like they were dying of thirst.
Tomorrow, she decided, she would visit Darlaston to find a distiller who would be in a position to supply The Crown Saloon with much needed cheap gin.
19
It was mid-morning when Arthur Micklewhite entered The Crown, his cap pulled low over his eyes. Served by Poppy, he moved to the side of the room where he could keep an eye out for Dolly. Sipping his gin, he almost choked; the liquid felt like it had burned the skin off his throat. He leaned against the wall away from the jostling crowd and scowled at anyone who dared to look his way.
Not entirely sure what he would do if he saw the girl, Arthur continued to wait. He needed to assure himself that she was still living there. About to take another sip of his drink, he winced and thought better of it.
Then suddenly there she was – behind the counter, serving drinks like she’d been born to it. Arthur’s eyes never left her for a moment and he debated what to do next. So involved in considering whether to approach Dolly or not, he unthinkingly took a gulp of gin and instantly regretted it. Coughing hard, he bent forward, one hand on his knee. Someone clapped him on the back but he couldn’t straighten up to thank them. His throat was aflame and he felt the burn of the fiery liquid as it made its way to his stomach. Gasping for breath, he wiped the tears from his eyes and tried to focus on the people around him.
How do folk drink so much of this stuff?! he wondered as he blinked hard. A woman next to him laughed as he sniffed and wiped his eyes a second time. Seeing her glass was empty, he tipped the remainder of his drink into it and received a beaming smile in return. He didn’t dare hang on to it for fear of drinking it again by accident.
Bringing his attention back to Dolly, he watched as an old woman leaned in to speak to her. He had no idea this was Aggie and she’d had eyes on him from the moment he walked in.
‘Dolly, my wench,’ Aggie called as she bent forward over the counter. ‘Don’t look now, but there’s a bloke by yonder wall watching you like a hawk.’
‘Thanks, Aggie. Nellie says all help is to be rewarded,’ Dolly smiled as she gave Aggie a free tot.
Aggie’s toothless grin was quickly hidden by the rim of her glass.
It was all Dolly could do not to look towards the wall and the man who was supposedly watching her. Serving another customer, she then glanced around the room as though assuring herself no one else was waiting. It was then that she saw him and her heart sank – it was her step-father and he had found her!
Fear swept through her as she turned and hobbled out of the bar as fast as her weak leg would allow.
‘Dolly – whatever is the matter? You look like you’ve seen a ghost,’ Nancy said.
‘Not a ghost, but my step-father. He’s in there right now and he knows I’m here!’ Dolly exclaimed, throwing an arm in the direction of the bar.
‘Oh…’ Nancy was at a loss for words.
‘Nancy, what am I to do?!’ Dolly was in a blind panic and clearly unable to think straight.
‘You don’t need to do anything,’ Jack said as he came rushing through. ‘Aggie told me – for a free gin of course.’
‘She had one from me too; she’s on to a good thing there. Jack, I’m scared. What if Arthur has come for me? He might insist I go home with him – can he do that?’ Dolly asked, feeling her heart beating out of her chest.
‘No, of course he can’t! You don’t need to be frightened of some trumped-up little squirt!’ Nancy assured her.
‘What’s occurring?’ Frederick asked as he emerged from the cellar.
Nancy explained quickly and the big man laid a huge hand on Dolly’s tiny one. ‘You’re safe here, I’ll make sure. Now take a squint around that door and point him out to me.’
Dolly did as she was bid and Frederick nodded. The two then returned to the bar and Dolly had the pleasure of watching Frederick escort her step-father outside – by the scruff of his neck.
‘Time you left, fella!’ Fred said as he bundled Arthur out of the door.
‘Why? I ain’t done nothing wrong,’ Arthur protested.
‘You ain’t wanted in here. Besides, you weren’t drinking.’ Fred turned Arthur around and pushed him in the back.
‘You’re a bully!’ Arthur yelled as he backed away.
‘You have no idea,’ Fred said quietly.
A cheer went up as he came back indoors and he grinned widely, tipping an imaginary hat to Dolly, before work went on as usual.
Arthur was fuming at being thrown out of the saloon but he couldn’t exactly argue with the giant. Stamping his temper out on the cobbles, he marched home puffing and blowing out his anger. He wasn’t sure why he had been ejected, and so indignantly too, but he knew he couldn’t go back now. They would be watching for him. He had been about to approach Dolly and tell her she had to come home, but in the event, he was rather glad he hadn’t. God knows what the big man would have done to him if he had.
Dolly and that necklace were proving virtually impossible to get his hands on, and Arthur began to wonder if both were completely lost to him. Should he give up and concentrate on the widows? Was he ready to concede defeat? He pondered these questions as he stared out of the kitchen window.
In the meantime, Nellie had travelled to Darlaston, a little town not too far away, having hired a cab for the whole day.
Looking through the window, Nellie saw that companies had sprung up everywhere. They manufactured bolts and nuts which were sold all over the country as well as abroad. Travelling up the wide thoroughfare known as Darlaston Road, the cab was kept to the left; the tramway taking up the centre.
Nearing the Bull Stake, Nellie peered out, leaning forward for a better view as they rolled over the bridge. Below was the London and North West Railway line which cut the town in half.
The cab drew to a halt and she heard the driver call out, asking for directions. She smiled as she heard the reply from
an exasperated woman surrounded by a gaggle of noisy children. ‘Yow goo up theer, right to the top.’
‘Thanks very much, missus,’ the cabbie yelled back and once more the carriage moved on.
King Street was lined with dirty houses and Nellie thought it was much like any other Black Country street. Industry had covered all brickwork with a layer of grime added to by household chimneys.
The monotony of soot-blackened houses was broken briefly by a patch of green where the imposing St Lawrence’s church stood. You work hard all your life and that’s where you end up!
At the top of Church Street, they came to a little school behind which sprawled the buildings of the brewery. Nellie took a good look at the red brick structure as the cabbie pulled into the yard. Jumping down, the driver opened the door and helped Nellie alight. Instantly she could smell the hops being turned into beer and she wrinkled her nose.
‘I wonder how folk live with this stink all the time,’ she said.
‘I s’pose they’m used to it, Mrs Larkin,’ the cabbie replied.
Nellie’s eyebrows shot up as she realised the man had recognised her.
He grinned. ‘Everybody knows about what Ezra Morton has done regarding your deliveries. I’m guessing that’s why we’re here. They also know about the kindness you show to others.’
To cover her embarrassment she said, ‘I hope I won’t be too long in there,’ tilting her head to the building she was about to enter.
‘Good luck,’ the cabbie said as he tipped his hat.
Nodding, Nellie strode towards the entrance.
Shown into the office by a secretary, Nellie was then asked to take a seat. The man behind the desk smiled warmly as he spoke.
‘I’m Ned Burton, how can I help you?’
‘Nellie Larkin,’ came the answer. She then explained that she ran a gin palace in Birmingham and was looking for a new distiller.
Nodding, Mr Burton went to a sideboard and pointed to a decanter half full of clear liquid.
Offered a tot to try, Nellie feigned horror. ‘No, thanks, I only sell it – I don’t drink it!’
Mr Burton, the brewer, howled with laughter. He was an older man, having been in the business since he was a boy and he had liked Nellie the moment he met her.
‘I don’t drink it either. May I ask why you’ve come to me? Surely it would be less expensive to buy your gin in your home town?’ he ventured as he returned to his seat.
‘I’ll be honest with you, Mr Burton. I’ll tell you my problem, then you can decide whether you wish to deal with me.’ After laying everything on the line she watched the man as he thought about what she’d told him.
‘It could be dangerous for you, Mr Burton,’ she warned him.
Mr Burton answered with, ‘I don’t mind a bit of danger, Mrs Larkin, it adds spice to an otherwise boring existence.’ A grin spread across his face as he held out a hand.
They shook hands and the deal was done – Nellie’s order would be delivered the following morning by dray cart. The plain barrels would be covered by a tarpaulin and the Shire horses would pull the cart into her yard where they would be unloaded away from prying eyes.
Nellie was delighted. She’d had to pay for delivery, of course, but overall it was not too much more than she’d paid Ezra. Placing an order for a regular supply, Nellie travelled home a distinctly happier woman. She had found a brewer who also distilled gin and at a reasonable price.
‘How did you get on?’ Nancy asked eagerly as Nellie walked in through the back door.
‘Blimey, let me get in first!’ Nellie said with a laugh, then proceeded to tell her friend about her meeting with Mr Burton. ‘He’s delivering by cart so we won’t have to worry about it coming via the cut.’
‘I bet that cost you,’ Nancy answered.
‘Not that much more, Nance, and certainly less than it would have been moving it by barge,’ Nellie said.
Pouring Nellie a glass of home-made lemonade, Nancy was relieved to hear they would stay in business. She then informed Nellie about the debacle of Dolly’s step-father being removed from the premises by Frederick.
‘It was Aggie who noticed him first off,’ Nancy said.
‘That don’t surprise me,’ Nellie said with a little smile.
‘Ar, got eyes like a shit-house rat has that one! Anyway, Dolly pointed him out to Fred and before we knew it the bloke was being rejected through the door arse end first!’ Nancy said with a grin.
‘Ejected, Nancy,’ Nellie corrected gently.
Nancy waved a hand to dismiss both error and correction as she went on hurriedly, ‘You should have seen it, Nell, Fred almost lifted him off his feet!’
Seeing Nellie’s frown which told her Nellie thought she might have been shirking her work, Nancy quickly added, ‘I popped me head round the door to see what was going on.’
Nellie nodded.
‘What was he after?’ Nellie wondered aloud.
‘I don’t know, but I don’t think he’ll be back if he knows what’s good for him,’ Nancy answered.
‘We need to watch out for that little ’un, Nance,’ Nellie said with a frown.
‘Fred will look after her if you ask him.’
‘Good idea. I’d best get my tail end in the bar and give the kids a break.’ Nellie finished her cool drink and walked through the open doorway.
A moment later Jack and Dolly appeared, more than ready to enjoy a glass of lemonade and a freshly baked scone with jam.
‘How are you feeling now, Dolly?’ Nancy asked.
‘I’m all right, thank you,’ Dolly answered quietly but it was plain to see she was still afraid.
‘Don’t you be worrying any more, Fred’s going to look out for you.’
‘And I will,’ Jack mumbled through a mouth full of crumbs.
‘Did Nellie sort out a delivery?’ Dolly asked, wanting to change the subject.
Nancy explained what she’d learned from Nellie and was pleased to see Dolly smile again.
Later, Jack helped Frederick to move the empty casks out into the yard and clear a space for the new ones due the following day.
Dolly returned to help out in the bar as Nancy got the evening meal underway. The Dempsters went to get some sleep in readiness for their night shift on guard, and Poppy had a well-earned break before starting again behind the counter.
Nellie was like a new woman. She served customers with the energy of a girl and her smile stayed in place for the rest of the day.
Tomorrow she would see the cellar fully stocked and as far as she was concerned, Ezra Morton could go to hell and take his lousy gin with him!
20
The house on the corner of Bishop Street was more of a small mansion and had many rooms both up and downstairs. Sylvia Chilton had little idea of style but she knew what she liked and her parlour was a hotchpotch of designs and colours. An English oak sideboard was flanked by two delicate spindle-legged chairs. Chintz curtains hung at the windows and a huge Ormolu clock took centre position on the shelf above the fire. Large rugs covered the highly polished wooden floor and small tables were dotted between armchairs and sofas.
Now Sylvia lived alone, only one of the six bedrooms was used, above which the servants’ quarters were reached via a set of back stairs; these lay dormant and dusty. On the ground floor, as well as the parlour, was a dining room – again unused as Sylvia ate in the kitchen. The drawing room door was never opened and the butler’s pantry was also closed off. The scullery housed cleaning materials and a tin bath hung on the wall.
Sylvia had let her daughter in and eyed her as they now sat opposite each other in the parlour.
‘Mother, what is wrong with you that you can’t see what Gabriel Short is doing?!’ Elizabeth Murray spat nastily.
‘Elizabeth, it really isn’t any of your business,’ Sylvia replied. ‘You are my daughter – not my keeper!’
‘Oh, for goodness sake! He’s only after your money!’
‘I don’t agree. In my o
pinion, Gabriel is a gentleman,’ Sylvia was trying to keep her temper in check.
‘Gentleman! He’s a gigolo, Mother, and at your age you should know better!’ Elizabeth snapped. She was so wrapped up in her own anger, she didn’t see the hurt in her mother’s eyes.
‘I’m concerned he will ingratiate himself into your affections before taking your money and leaving you high and dry.’
‘I’ve heard enough!’ Sylvia barked. ‘Just go home, Elizabeth, and leave me to live my own life.’
Taken aback by the sudden outburst, Elizabeth sniffed loudly and flounced from the room.
Sylvia sighed as she heard the front door open, then slam shut. In the silence that followed, she couldn’t help but wonder if her daughter was indeed correct in her thinking. Was she doing the right thing going against Elizabeth’s wishes regarding a man she barely knew? What if Elizabeth was proved right in the end and Gabriel Short was only after her money? Was this man worth falling out with her daughter for? After all, she had only known him but a few weeks.
If she was honest with herself, the thing that irked Sylvia the most was how Elizabeth thought she knew what was best for her mother. Living alone now did not mean that Sylvia had lost all reason. She was still capable of making her own decisions and, right or wrong – she only had herself to answer to.
Feeling weary, Sylvia pushed herself out of the easy chair and went to the kitchen to make tea. The house was silent and empty and suddenly loneliness wrapped itself around her and held her tight in its grip. Covering her face with her hands, Sylvia Chilton wept for her dead husband, her overbearing daughter, but mostly for herself. The thought of feeling this way for her remaining years had her cry like her heart was broken.
Elizabeth Murray had no intentions of letting that man dupe her mother out of her money. She would find a way to prevent it happening if only for the fact that it was her inheritance.
Travelling home in a cab, her mind worked rapidly as to how she could expose Gabriel Short for the man she suspected he truly was. His sweet words and his bowing and scraping had no effect on her whatsoever, in fact it made her dislike him all the more. It all seemed so false. She was confident that she had hit the nail squarely on the head – the man was a charlatan. Although her eyes had stared out of the window on the journey, Elizabeth registered nothing. She didn’t notice the men standing in the bread line, as they did day after day, in the hope of finding work. Nor did she see the bedraggled women chatting in the street as they kept an eye on their wilful children. All she could focus on was that dreadful man and what he was putting her mother through.
The Children from Gin Barrel Lane Page 11
