by Dilly Court
‘Well, it’s too late now. He’s gone for good this time, and he’ll never come back. You’ve ruined everything for all of us, Hetty. Why couldn’t you be like an ordinary East End girl? Why do you have to be so different from the rest of us?’
Before Hetty could think of a suitable reply, Granny burst into the parlour and stood arms akimbo, eyes blazing. ‘What’s all this noise? You two sound like a couple of alley cats screeching at each other. What’s it all about?’
‘Ask her. It’s all her fault.’ Jane fled from the room in a flood of tears.
Granny turned the full force of her wrath on Hetty. ‘If it isn’t those young limbs up to some mischief, it’s you two behaving like fish-wives.’
‘It’s something and nothing, Granny,’ Hetty said wearily. ‘I need to boil some eggs, if you don’t mind.’
‘I do mind, as it happens. I can’t have all that steam wilting the stiffening in my bonnets. You’ll have to use the copper outside to boil your eggs. That’s if you can wade through the water in the back yard. I gave those boys a good piece of my mind.’
She eyed the untouched food on Hetty’s plate. ‘Good vittles cost money. I hope you’re not going to leave that, my girl?’
Hetty picked up the plate, intending to sneak it upstairs to Sammy and Eddie who had been sent to bed with no supper. ‘No, Granny. I’ll eat it while I stoke the fire under the copper.’
‘And I expect you to pay for the coal, miss.’
Hetty nodded her head in mute acknowledgement as she left the room, closing the door softly behind her. She tiptoed upstairs and gave the food to the boys, who fell on it like starving animals. Sammy glanced up from the plate, swallowing a mouthful of cold pie. ‘Is everything all right, Hetty? Tom sounded cross and then we heard you and Jane shouting at each other.’
‘I like Tom,’ Eddie said, cramming cold mashed potato into his mouth.
‘You mustn’t worry,’ Hetty said soothingly. ‘All grown-ups have arguments every now and then.’
‘He will come back, won’t he?’ Sammy asked. ‘He will take us to the park on Sundays?’
‘Maybe not this week, but you mustn’t worry. It will all come right in the end. You won’t remember it, but that’s what Ma always used to say.’
Early next morning, when Hetty was loading up her barrow, Jane came out of the house, bleary-eyed with sleep and still wearing her nightgown. She shivered in the cool breeze, and she pulled her crocheted shawl a little closer around her body. ‘Can I help?’
Hetty smiled and nodded her head. She knew that this was the nearest that Jane would ever get to an apology. ‘You could pack the eggs in the wicker basket.’
Jane went into the outhouse to fetch the bowl of hard-boiled eggs and she began stacking them carefully in the straw-lined basket. ‘I didn’t mean what I said last night – about hating you. I don’t, of course, but I am very cross with you, Hetty.’
‘You should have told me how you felt about Tom. I really had no idea.’
‘Well you know now, and it’s too late.’
‘I’m sure it isn’t. Tom flies off the handle but he soon calms down. If you like, I’ll go round to his house this evening and make my peace with him.’
Jane dropped an egg and it landed with a dull thud on the ground. The shell split and fragments of golden yolk spilled out onto the concrete. ‘Damn! Sorry, Hetty. It slipped out of me fingers. But you mustn’t say nothing to Tom about me. I’d feel like a fool, and it would only make things worse.’
‘You could have any man you wanted, Jane. Don’t throw yourself away on the first one who comes along.’
‘I’m seventeen and I’ve got a baby. What man is going to take me on with another bloke’s child?’
Hetty lifted the cardboard box containing the cups onto the barrow and she smiled. ‘With your pretty face and winning ways, when you ain’t pouting that is, blokes will be queuing up to step out with Miss Jane Huggins.’
‘The trouble is, I don’t want other fellows, Hetty. I got me heart set on Tom, but I can hardly go running after him, especially when he’s hankering after you.’
Jane’s lips were trembling and her eyes were magnified by unshed tears. The breeze had whipped her chestnut curls into a halo around her head and she was shivering violently. Hetty shook her head. ‘What am I going to do with you, Jane?’ She gave her a gentle push towards the back door. ‘Go inside. You won’t get a chap at all if you catch your death of cold. Leave it to me, I’ll think of something.’
Jane grasped her hand. ‘Promise me you won’t tell Tom what I said.’
‘Don’t talk soft, of course I won’t. It’s our secret.’ Hetty cocked her ear to listen. ‘Talia’s crying.’
‘I wish I hadn’t given her that outlandish name,’ Jane said crossly. ‘And I still wish she had been a boy.’
Hetty let this pass. ‘I’ve got to go now, or I’ll miss the breakfast trade, but don’t fret, Jane. I’ll make things come right if it’s the last thing I do.’
Pushing her barrow, Hetty trudged through streets crowded with people, many of them appearing to be only half awake, making their way to their workplaces in factories, timber yards and mills that clung to the river’s edge. The soot-blackened brick buildings looked even darker and more forbidding in the brilliant spring sunshine, and an east wind brought with it the noxious stench of boiling bones from the glue factory. Hetty tried to imagine fields filled with daffodils and the scent of wild violets, but today the real world forced itself upon her. She had hurt the man she had always thought she would marry one day in the far distant future. Tom had been an anchor in her life; someone solid and depend-able, whose affection was constant and unchanging. The realisation that she could never love him in the way he desired was almost as shocking and disturbing as the fact that Jane could. Hetty felt almost envious of her sister’s ability to allow her heart to rule her head. First there had been Nat and now she had transferred her affections to Tom. Hetty simply could not imagine feeling like that about any man. Perhaps it was not in her nature? Maybe she would go through life without ever experiencing such strength of feeling? Perhaps she was destined to be a business woman and remain a spinster?
She quickened her pace. Dawdling and daydreaming would not make her fortune. By the time she had reached Commercial Street, she was already formulating plans for renting one of the permanent stalls in the market and expanding her business. With two stalls, she could afford to move her family to a larger house, perhaps in Hanbury Street or Wood Street. Since the terrible murders by the person they called the Leather Apron, or Jack the Ripper, the cost of renting property had plummeted. The police had never caught him, but at least the dreadful carnage seemed to have stopped. Now would be the ideal time to take out a lease on one of the houses in that area. Hetty was only too well aware that they could not impose on Granny for very much longer, and she would soon need a proper kitchen in which to prepare food for her stall. There was such a lot to think about.
She did even better in the market that day, and putting her personal problems aside she revelled in the atmosphere of camaraderie amongst the costermongers. She felt that she was part of a large and boisterous family, and that she was safe in their company. In the bustling clamour of the market, she was able to put all thoughts of Clench out of her mind. It was hard work, but she was so busy that she had no time to worry about an aching back or sore feet. She did such a roaring trade that she put in an even larger order at the bakery, not only for more loaves of bread, but also for a batch of sticky buns and a large seed cake.
She was too exhausted to go looking for Tom after work, but on Sunday afternoon she took Jane, Sammy, Eddie and Natalia round to his home in Dye House Lane. Tom’s surprised expression was almost comical as he opened the door and saw the whole family, with the exception of Granny who was at home having a nap, standing outside on the narrow pavement.
Hetty held out her hand. ‘I’ve come to apologise, Tom. I shouldn’t have said what I said, and I hope y
ou’ll find it in your heart to forgive me. We’ve been friends for too long to let a silly argument come between us.’
‘I wouldn’t call it a silly argument,’ Tom said coldly. ‘You made it clear that you wanted nothing to do with the likes of me.’
‘That’s not true,’ Hetty said softly. ‘I love you, Tom. But not in the way you want me to love you. I’m just not made that way, but I value your friendship more than anything else in the world.’
‘We miss you,’ Sammy cried, pushing Hetty aside and wrapping his arms around Tom’s waist. ‘We want you to come to the park with us, like you always do.’
‘Please, Tom,’ Eddie urged, seizing Tom’s hand. ‘It won’t be any fun without you.’
Jane stood on tiptoe to kiss Tom’s cheek. ‘That goes for me too, Tom. You can’t desert us now.’ She held Natalia up to him. ‘Baby misses you too.’
As if to confirm this bold statement, Natalia gave Tom a sunny smile and held her arms out to him. He took her from Jane, holding her as if she was a fragile blossom, which he might crush if he held her too tightly. ‘Hello, little ‘un. I missed you as well.’ Tom’s eyes glistened with tears as he rubbed his cheek against Natalia’s soft baby curls. ‘I missed all of you too.’
‘Then you’ll come with us?’ Hetty asked, hardly daring to breathe. Tom was so much a part of their lives that she could not bear the thought of losing him.
He gave her a long, searching look and then a slow smile spread from his lips to his eyes. ‘Well, I suppose I could manage to put up with the lot of you for an hour or so.’
‘And we could have a penny lick from the hokey-pokey man,’ Sammy said eagerly.
Tom handed Natalia back to Jane. ‘We’ll see. Just let me fetch me jacket and cap and we’ll go for a stroll in the park.’
As he retreated into the dingy hallway, Hetty and Jane exchanged triumphant glances. ‘Just be yourself, Jane,’ Hetty whispered. ‘He’ll soon learn what a treasure you are.’
‘Why is she a treasure?’ Eddie demanded.
‘Never you mind,’ Hetty countered, play-fully tweaking his ear. ‘You’d better be good if you want some ice cream.’
Tom reappeared in the doorway, shrugging on his jacket. He put his cap on his head, and held his arms out to Natalia. ‘Here, let me have her, Jane. She’s getting too big for you to carry far.’
Jane fluttered her eyelashes and smiled as she handed her daughter into his arms. ‘Ta, Tom. She’s always good when you hold her. Baby knows what a splendid chap you are.’
‘I’m glad someone does,’ he said, hoisting Natalia onto his shoulders.
Hetty took Sammy and Eddie by the hand. ‘Come on then, let’s go for a walk in the park. I think we’d best avoid the rowing boats though.’ She gave Tom a sideways glance and was relieved to see the amused gleam in his eyes. She knew now that he had forgiven her.
The afternoon passed off without incident. Tom’s good nature soon overcame his initial awkwardness and Jane was on her best behaviour. Sammy and Eddie gambolled about on the damp grass like a couple of spring lambs, and Natalia crowed with delight as she watched them from the safety of Tom’s arms. Hetty couldn’t help thinking that he would make a wonderful father, and found herself hoping that one day he would look at Jane with the eyes of love, and not just see her as the little girl who used to tease and torment him. They strolled beneath the flowering cherry trees and listened to the band. Tom bought everyone a penny lick from the Italian hokey-pokey man, and as Hetty savoured the sweet, vanilla-flavoured confection she wondered if, one day, she could add ice cream to her bill of fare.
When they went into the refreshment room, Hetty was so busy comparing the quality of the food and the prices that she charged on her stall that Tom and Jane laughed at her and teased her about never being off duty. At that point, Hetty remembered that she had to go home to prepare her barrow for the next day, and, amidst protests from everyone, she got up from the table. ‘You’ll see them home, won’t you, Tom?’ she asked with a persuasive smile. ‘Please.’
‘Of course I will,’ Tom said, chuckling. ‘You go and see to that old stall of yours. That’s where your heart really lies, isn’t it, Hetty?’
As she walked home alone, she could not quite put Tom’s words out of her head. They had been said in a jocular fashion, but, as in many a jest, there was truth in them. She had put profit before her own wants and needs, but what no one seemed to understand was that she alone bore the responsibility for the well-being of her family.
She had learned long ago that having money made the difference between living and simply existing. She would never allow her family to go hungry again, or to work for long hours sweating at the various trades from making matches, or shoes at fourpence a dozen, or finishing boots at twopence halfpenny a pair, or even boxes for expensive soap at one and six per gross. Such were the lives of most people who lived in these parts. There had to be a better life somewhere, and Hetty was determined to work until she had found this other place, where the streets were not knee deep in horse dung and rotting vegetable matter, where sewers did not overflow every time there was a rainstorm, where disease did not claim the lives of babies and small children, and where men and women were not withered into a premature old age by poverty and want. She lifted her chin and strode on towards Totty Street. She had eggs and a large piece of gammon to boil, ready for the morning. Monday was the start of a new week and it would be the beginning of a more prosperous future for them all.
It was raining. Steady, drenching rain was pouring from a leaden sky. With a piece of sacking draped over her head and shoulders, Hetty pushed her barrow along the Mile End Road, heading for Spitalfields. The wheels of passing horse-drawn vehicles threw up sprays of muddy water, soaking the hem of her skirt, and she could feel the damp seeping through the soles of her boots. It was not the best start to the week, and when Cyrus Clench fell into step beside her, she was barely surprised. ‘Go away, Clench. I ain’t in the mood to speak to the likes of you.’
His face had a greenish tinge to it as he huddled beneath a large black umbrella that had several broken spokes, giving it a curious humpbacked appearance. He bared his teeth in a rictus grin. ‘That ain’t very polite of you, Miss Hetty.’
‘I’ve nothing to say to you, Clench. Leave me alone.’
‘But you owes me money, missy. I’m a poor man and I can’t write off the interest you owe me. I want it now.’
Hetty trudged onwards, ignoring his whining voice.
He quickened his pace to keep up with her. ‘Acting stuck-up won’t get you nowhere, Miss Hetty. I’m a patient man, and a good-natured fellow, or I’d have sent the bailiffs in to your grandma’s house in Totty Street before now. She made a big mistake when she threw my mate Jasper out. A big mistake.’
Hetty came to a sudden halt. She turned to look at him and the malicious gleam in his beady eyes frightened her. ‘What are you saying?’
‘Just this, sweetheart. Either you pays up the accumulated interest on the loan, or you pays me in kind.’
A cold shiver ran down Hetty’s spine and it was not just the rainwater trickling through the sodden sacking. ‘I don’t owe you any money. You know very well that my grandmother paid off the loan in full.’
‘Can you prove it? Have you got it in writing?’
‘You know that I haven’t, but that doesn’t make any difference. You were paid off.’
‘It’s my word against yours and Jasper will back me up. Who do you think the bailiffs will believe, dearie?’
‘You’re bluffing, Clench.’
‘Pay up or pay me in kind. Meet me in the Ten Bells on the corner of Church Street at six o’clock this evening, or you’ll be sorry.’
‘You don’t frighten me,’ Hetty lied, clenching her teeth in order to stop them chattering.
He chuckled deep down in his throat. ‘Ho! Don’t I? I can see it in your eyes, missy. I want to see a different expression in them this evening when we meet up. I want to hear you say “
Yes, Cyrus”, in a loving tone mark you, and we’ll go on from there. I reckon once or twice a week for a month or two will just about pay your debt to me.’
‘Never!’ Hetty almost choked on the bile that had risen to her throat. She knew exactly what Clench intended and the thought of it sickened her. She hurried on as fast as she could, but his hoarse laughter followed her along the street. Mercifully, he allowed her to go on her way, and a quick glance over her shoulder reassured her that he had moved off in the opposite direction. Hetty abandoned her barrow at the side of the road and she dashed into a side alley to vomit.
She was late arriving at the market and George was already busy on his stall. She received a cheery wave from Brush and she managed a weak smile in return, as she began to set up her stall.
‘Hello, ducks. What’s up?’
Nora’s rasping tones made Hetty drop a cup and it shattered on the cobblestones. She knelt down to pick up the pieces. ‘I’m sorry I was late. I got held up.’
‘You look terrible. Are you poorly?’
‘N-no, I’m fine, ta.’ Hetty bit back a sob. Her hands shook and she yelped with pain as a shard of broken china cut her finger.
Nora helped her to her feet. ‘Come over to me stall, love. I’ll bind that up, and you can tell me what’s got you in such a state.’ She led Hetty over to her sweet stall where a ragged boy, who could not have been more than six or seven, was about to steal a handful of boiled sweets. ‘Get away with you,’ Nora screeched, cuffing him soundly round the head. He dropped the sweets and his small face, which was so blackened with grime that his features were indistinguishable, puckered as if he were about to howl. Nora popped a piece of fudge between his lips. ‘That’s enough of that, sonny. Pick up them sweets and take them away. I can’t sell nothing what’s been trodden underfoot. But if I catch you stealing again, I’ll tan your hide.’
The boy scrambled about on the ground, picking up the sweets and stuffing them in the pockets of his torn, threadbare breeches before scuttling off into the street. Nora pulled up a stool. ‘Sit there, Hetty, and you can tell me what’s up while I see to that cut.’ She bent her head to peer myopically at the wound. ‘It’s deep. I seen cuts like that turn green like rotten meat. You could lose your whole arm if the gangrene sets in.’ On this cheerful note, she lifted her skirt and tore a strip off one of her voluminous petticoats.
