The Constant Heart

by Dilly Court

  Caddie moved swiftly to the tiller. 'I do, if you'll tell me which way to head.'

  Pip touched his cap in a salute. 'Aye, aye, cap'n.' He gave a throaty chuckle, as if delighted by his own wit. Caddie wiped her hands on her skirt and took the tiller. Rosina saw that she was nervous, but there was nothing that she could do, nothing except stand back and watch while Caddie steered the boat and Pip set the topsail to catch the light airs. 'We can't go too far away,' she said, thinking of Bertha and the children waiting for them in the pub.

  'It's all right, miss. We can moor close to Duke Stairs, and it ain't far to walk back to Etheredge's.' Pip turned to Caddie with an appreciative smile. 'You done well, miss. As if you was born to it, like.'

  'Me husband taught me how to steer a boat. He said I was a natural.'

  Pip's smile faded. 'You're married then, miss?'

  'Widowed.'

  'Oh!' Pip's face split into a huge grin.

  When the Ellie May was safely away from the wharf Rosina stifled a sigh of relief. 'That was well done, both of you.'

  'Nothing to it, miss.' Pip took the tiller from Caddie. 'I'll take her from here, miss – er, missis. It ain't far to Duke Stairs and I know a place where we can moor her safely for the time being.'

  Caddie moved to where Rosina had perched on a coil of rope. 'He seems to know what he's doing, all right.'

  Rosina nodded her head, keeping an eye on Pip as he skilfully manoeuvred the vessel around tiers of lighters and dumb barges, heading for a small wharf. He might not be very bright, but he certainly knew what he was doing when it came to sailing a barge. An idea struck her and she rose to her feet, making her way across the deck to his side. 'Mr Pip, do you think it possible that you might be able to work for me? I need to start working the river but neither Caddie nor I are qualified to sail a barge. We desperately need to resume trading, or we will starve. It's as simple as that.'

  'That's simple all right, miss.' Pip's brow furrowed into lines and he was silent for a while as he manoeuvred the vessel skilfully alongside the wharf. He passed the tiller to Caddie. 'Hold her steady, missis, while I make her fast.' On shore he might move clumsily, but on board the barge he was as nimble as a performing monkey: he shinned up the ladder with the mooring rope in his hand, made fast and landed back on deck with a flying leap.

  'Thank you, Mr Pip,' Rosina said, smiling. 'Where did you learn to handle a boat like that?'

  'They trained us at the foundling hospital, miss. But they reckoned as how I weren't bright enough to pass no tests, so they sent me to the repair yard. I always wanted to work on the river, not just on the shore, but I'm a bit touched in the head, like.'

  'I don't think that's true,' Rosina said gravely. 'From what I've seen, you are more than competent, but I can't afford to pay you very much, Mr Pip. Not for a while anyway. I believe my papa paid Artie a percentage of the profit on the cargo. And you would only have myself and Caddie to crew for you. I cannot afford to hire a master.'

  Pip slapped his sides and seemed to find this hilarious, laughing until he was breathless. 'That's a good 'un, miss. Me, simple Pip Phillips, a waterman! Well, I never did.'

  Caddie drew Rosina aside, lowering her voice. 'Do you really mean for us to sail the barge with only Pip to help us?'

  'We have no choice. We must find a cargo or we will have no money for food or lodging. And I need funds to pay the lawyer who has taken Walter's case.'

  'But first of all we needs a roof over our heads. We got to find a room for the night, Rosie. I got to think of me nippers.'

  Rosina patted Caddie on the shoulder. 'I know, and we will. I've kept a little money back for just that purpose. Maybe Pip could help.' She turned to him and found that he had been listening intently with his head on one side. 'Mr Pip, do you know where wemight find cheap lodgings in this area?'

  'You can call me Pip, miss. And Limehouse Hole ain't exactly the place for two young ladies such as yourselves.'

  'Maybe not, but we must find somewhere before nightfall. And it needs to be close by the wharf so that I can keep an eye on my boat.'

  Pip's mouth worked silently, as though he was translating his slow thoughts into words. Caddie and Rosina exchanged anxious glances, and when he did not reply, Rosina laid her hand on his arm. 'Don't worry, Pip. We'll ask at the pub. I'm sure they'll be able to help us.'

  'There!' Pip said with a triumphant chuckle. 'I've worked it out in me head. You can have me little home on the water's edge and I'll sleep like a king in the cabin on the barge. That way, we'll all be happy.'

  Caddie eyed him, angling her head. 'That seems a very generous offer, Pip. Are you sure about this?'

  He shuffled his feet, blushing. 'I'd like to help, miss. It ain't exactly a palace, but it'll give you a roof over your heads.'

  'You're very kind, Pip. I'm sure it will do nicely.' Rosina set her foot on the bottom rung of the ladder. 'And I'll need to speak to the foreman of the boatyard to make sure he doesn't mind letting you go. I don't want you getting into any trouble.'

  Chapter Twenty-one

  The foreman raised no objections to their taking Pip away from his work on the barges. In fact, he almost seemed to be relieved to be ridding himself of the fellow. Before collecting Bertha and the children, Rosina and Caddie followed Pip to his house. It was reached by a boardwalk and turned out to be little more than a wooden shack on stilts, balancing precariously over the muddy foreshore. It was just one of many such dwellings set in front of dilapidated cottages, warehouses, sail lofts and ship's chandlers, forming a crazy wooden village that looked as though it might disintegrate into matchwood in a strong gust of wind.

  'This is my little palace,' Pip said proudly as he lifted the latch. 'Take a look inside and you'll be agreeably surprised, mark my words.'

  Rosina stepped over the threshold and stood quite still while her eyes became accustomed to the dim light. The shack was constructed entirely of driftwood planks, roughly nailed together to make one small room. Splinters of daylight filtered between the badly fitting panels and a ragged piece of cloth flapped against a tiny unglazed window next to the entrance. An iron pot-bellied stove stood against one wall, with a rusty chimney snaking up through a hole in the roof. The only furniture was a truckle bed, an upturned tea chest, which served as a table, and a wooden three-legged milking stool.

  'All saved from the river,' Pip added, puffing out his chest. 'The river has been mother and father to me since I run away from the foundling hospital. I've fended for meself ever since.'

  'You poor boy,' Caddie said, her eyes brimming with tears. 'I fear going into an institution.

  I can't think of nothing worse.'

  'No need to fear nothing with Pip on your side, missis. I've always wanted a family. I'd be more than proud to help you and your nippers. I'm a hard worker, anyone will tell you that.'

  'Pip, we really can't turn you out of your home,' Rosina said, casting an agonised glance at Caddie. This really was a hovel, and it was none too clean at that. 'Perhaps we should look for lodgings nearby and let you keep your house for yourself.'

  'No, miss. I won't hear of it. I will live on the barge until such time as you have enough money laid aside to rent a proper place, as befits ladies of quality such as yourselves. There's everything you could want here – water from the river, driftwood, and lumps of coal washed ashore from the colliers when they unloads onto lighters. Why, you'll only need to spend a couple of pence in the pie and eel shop and you can live like the queen.' He backed out through the door onto the wooden stoop. 'I'll let you ladies have a look round on your own.'

  'It's awful,' Rosina whispered. 'We can't bring Bebe and the children to a place like this.'

  Caddie picked up the lid on the stove, sending a shower of rust onto the floorboards. 'At least we'll be warm and reasonably dry. It ain't so bad, Rosie. I've been in worse places, and the rent will be cheap. I don't think we've got much choice.'

  Rosina wrapped her arms around herself and shivered. 'My papa w
ould turn in his grave if he could see me come to this.'

  'Your pa is dead and gone, the same as my Artie. They can't help us now. All we've got is each other. And if you want to help Walter, maybe you ought to give this place a bit of thought.'

  'It's filthy,' Rosina said, running her finger across the top of a wooden shelf on which Pip kept his tin mug and plate.

  'Dirt will wash away. If three strong women can't keep a place this size spick and span, then my name ain't Caddie Trigg.'

  'I don't know what Bertha will say.'

  Caddie giggled. 'I can't wait to see her face.'

  *

  Bertha stood in the middle of the floor with her arms akimbo. Rosina held her breath, waiting for a tirade of complaints. Sounds of merriment were coming from below, where Pip was playing hide and seek amongst the slime-encrusted wooden supports with Ronnie and Alfie. Through the open door, Rosina could see Caddie leaning over the railing, chuckling as she watched their antics. At least someone seemed happy to be here, she thought, as she waited anxiously for Bertha to speak.

  'It ain't a palace,' Bertha said at last. 'But it's a sight better than sleeping in the tunnel, and I daresay, with a bit of cleaning up, it might do for the time being.'

  'Y-you don't object?' Rosina could hardly believe her ears.

  Bertha sat down gingerly on the milking stool, balancing her weight carefully. 'Of course I ain't happy about it. I objects to being turned out of me home after all these years, and it ain't fair that we've had to suffer like this, but we got to be practical. If you can sail the boat with the help of the simpleton, then so be it. I'll make the best of things and I'll look after the nippers while you and Caddie go off and earn us some money.'

  'We'll get back on our feet, you'll see, Bebe. And one day we'll have a proper house again, and nice clothes and plenty to eat, just like the old days.'

  'That's the spirit, girl. Your pa would be proud of you.' Bertha wiped her eyes on her skirt. 'So proud.'

  Rosina flung her arms around Bertha's neck and hugged her, but she had reckoned without the three-legged milking stool, and it tipped over beneath their combined weight, tossing them onto the floor in a tangle of arms and legs. Rosina scrambled to her feet laughing, and she found that she could not stop.

  Much later, after Pip had provided them with a pie and mash supper from the shop in Narrow Street, and the children were curled up together, asleep on the truckle bed, Bertha sat on the stool by the stove, in which a wood fire crackled and burned. Pip had returned to the barge, and Rosina was outside on the stoop with Caddie, watching the dusk creeping along the river and enveloping everything in a cloak of darkness.

  'We'll need to find a cargo,' Rosina said thoughtfully. 'I wish Walter was here to tell me how to go about it.'

  'Well, he ain't. It's just you and me, and we've got to sort it out ourselves.'

  'Rubbish!' Rosina said, clapping her hands.

  'I beg your pardon?' Caddie stared at her as if she had gone mad.

  'I saw a barge being loaded with rubbish on Duke's Shore Wharf. We don't need to buy a cargo of the city's rubbish, Caddie. They must be taking it somewhere downriver and dumping it. All we've got to do is to find out where and who pays for the refuse to be taken away. After all, Mr Gostellow made his fortune with his scavenger cart taking rubbish to the dust mound – I don't see why we can't do the same.'

  'But it's dirty work, Rosie.'

  'Yes, I know. But because of that it's likely to pay us well.' Rosina glanced down at her stained and torn gown. 'I don't think I'll ever feel clean and pretty again, so what difference can a bit more dirt make?'

  Next morning, Rosina went down to the wharf to find Pip. On her way, she watched a barge being loaded with rubbish, covering her mouth and nose with her hand as the noxious cloud of stinking dust filled the air. The men who loaded the barge and those on board, had scarves tied around their lower faces, and hats pulled down over their eyes. Their bare torsos were slicked with sweat and coated with grime: they worked in silence, moving rhythmically like an army of sinister automatons. Rosina suppressed a shudder, and she hurried on her way. When she reached the barge, she found that Pip had set himself to work scrubbing the deck. He leapt to attention when she called him, and, dropping the holystone, he climbed up the ladder to meet her. When she told him of her plan to carry refuse as a cargo, he listened intently, nodding his head.

  'So,' she said, when he did not venture a comment, 'do you know how I would go about getting such a cargo? Who should I see?'

  He thought for a moment. 'I should say that you need to see – the man in charge.'

  Curbing her impatience, Rosina managed a tight little smile. 'Thank you, Pip. That's very helpful. But do you know who he might be?'

  'The fat man with the gold watch and chain – he's the gaffer. Can I come to see you later, and maybe play with the little 'uns? I sat up half the night carving a wooden boat for them to play with.'

  'Yes, of course. Come round when you've finished your work.' She was obviously not going to get any more useful information from him. Rosina walked back past the wharf where the barge was now fully loaded. As the dust settled she saw that Pip had not been far wrong – the man who seemed to be in charge of the whole operation was dressed more like a city businessman than a dustman, and a gold chain hung across his ample belly, no doubt attached to an expensive watch tucked safely away in his waistcoat pocket. She was once more acutely conscious of her own bedraggled state. She could not do business with anyone while she looked, as Bertha would say, like something the cat had dragged in.

  Back at the hut, Bertha and Caddie took the once lovely gown down to the water's edge and scrubbed at it with a piece of carbolic soap. Surprisingly, even though the water was not exactly crystal clear, the material came up almost as good as new. Between them, Caddie and Bertha wrung it out and left it hanging over the wooden railing on the stoop to dry. Luckily it was a warm and sunny September day with a gentle breeze, and by mid-afternoon the dress was dry enough for Bertha to take inside to mend. From the pocket of her skirt she produced a housewife, one of the few items that she had managed to keep about her person, in which she kept needles, cotton and a small pair of scissors. By the time she had finished stitching and darning, the gown was almost as good as new, although it would not bear too close a scrutiny.

  When she was dressed, Rosina perched on the stool while Caddie put up her hair. 'There,' she said, standing back and admiring her handiwork. 'You look a treat, Rosie.'

  'You should have kept your bonnet,' Bertha said, sniffing and shaking her head. 'No lady goes out without a bonnet and gloves. It ain't proper.'

  'Well, I had to pawn it along with all my other clothes. The fat man with the gold watch will just have to take me as I am.'

  'Wait a minute, I've got an idea.' Caddie held her hand out to Bertha. 'Can I have your scissors, please?'

  Bertha handed them over grudgingly. 'What are you going to do?'

  'You'll see. Stand up, Rosie.'

  Rosina did as she asked. 'I don't see . . .'

  'Wait a moment and you will.' Caddie snipped a rosette of lace-trimmed silk from the bustle at the back of Rosina's gown. 'Turn round and look at me.'

  Chuckling at Caddie's unusual bossiness, Rosina turned to face her. 'What next?'

  Taking a hairpin from her own hair, Caddie fastened the rosette at a cunning angle over Rosina's left ear. 'There. It ain't exactly a bonnet, but it's a headdress of sorts and it suits you down to the ground. What do you think, Bertha?'