‘What won the Derby the year before last? Who rode it? What was the distance it won by?’ They fired questions at her and she could always answer them. As far as proud Bill was concerned, she was a prodigy of learning.
In spite of the care they took of her, however, it was impossible to shield her completely from the realities of life in their corner of the metropolis. She soon learned which women in the bar were prostitutes; which were pickpockets or shoplifters. She knew which of the men were burglars and which were footpads or lived off women.
Many of the young women who crowded into Bill’s establishment at night were little older than Lark herself and as she stood behind the mahogany bar in her stiffly starched white apron, looking at their rouged cheeks and tatty finery, she felt amazement not unmixed with envy.
They were so self-possessed, so sure of themselves, and made her feel so young and incapable of looking after herself without Bill and Bella behind her. She tried to imagine what their lives were like and her imagination failed her.
One day Bella took her ‘up West’ to see the shops and buy her first grown-up dress. This was the sort of expedition that Bella loved, and they wandered slowly along Piccadilly looking in every shop window. To hurry was to spoil the outing. When they reached the entrance to Burlington Arcade, Lark suddenly spied one of the Queen’s Head regulars, a pretty young girl called Sadie.
But it was a Sadie she had never seen before, for the girl was all dressed up like a demure lady of fashion in a fine silken crinoline and wearing a straw bonnet with a delicate lace scarf over her shoulders. She looked lovely and very genteel.
Lark grabbed Bella’s arm. ‘Look, over there, it’s Sadie. Isn’t she fine? Let’s go and speak to her.’
She raised her hand to wave at Sadie but Bella gripped her arm like a vice and whispered urgently, ‘Don’t look at her, don’t say a word. She’s working.’
‘Working?’ Lark looked at Bella in amazement. ‘What at?’
‘Just watch,’ replied Bella with a note of amusement in her voice. ‘Stand back here and we’ll watch our little Sadie.’
They stood together in front of a large shop window and watched Sadie’s reflection in the glass as she sidled up to another fashionably dressed woman and adroitly slipped a hand into the woman’s casually carried reticule. It was so deftly done that everything was over in a second and the woman felt nothing.
‘Clever little Sadie, she’s got her beer money for tonight and a bit over, I’ll be bound,’ said Bella with an open giggle this time. ‘Come on, let’s go. She wouldn’t want anyone attracting attention to her right now, would she?’
* * *
‘I saw you in Piccadilly today,’ Lark said when Sadie came into Bill’s bar.
The Cockney girl, not smartly dressed now but in a plain grey dress and threadbare shawl, looked up at the speaker and grinned cheekily. She had a triangular-shaped face and twinkling hazel eyes that made her look like an imp. ‘What did you think of me in my working clothes?’ she asked.
‘I hardly recognized you. What a pretty dress you had on.’
Sadie giggled. ‘I hired it, ducks. It was pretty, wasn’t it?’
She moved a little way along the wooden bench and patted the seat beside her in an invitation for Lark to sit down. It was the first gesture of friendship she had received from any of the women who came into the bar.
‘Bella and I wondered if you did well,’ Lark said.
Sadie swirled the colourless liquid around in her glass. ‘Well enough to buy gin. Would you like one?’ she asked.
Lark shook her head. She had never tasted anything stronger than Aylie’s home-made elderberry wine. ‘No thanks,’ she said, and then sat silent, not knowing what to say next, overawed by Sadie whose sophistication and way of making a living struck her as very daring.
Sadie took a sip at her gin. ‘You’re a funny kid, how old are you?’
‘I’m nearly fifteen. How old are you?’ Lark replied.
Sadie laughed. ‘About the same age. I’ll be sixteen, I think, in the summer.’
‘You think? Why don’t you know?’
‘Because I don’t know when I was born or who my mother was. I was found in a box in the back of an alley up there. An old dame took me in – I was lucky, I guess.’
Lark gazed at the girl with sympathy. She thought only unwanted kittens were found in boxes. It seemed impossible that anyone would casually throw away a baby.
‘How long have you been picking pockets?’ was her next question.
Sadie stared at her boldly and defiantly for a few seconds to see if there was any hint of disapproval in her face but, satisfied, she said, ‘Since I was about seven. The old woman who took me in ran a school for pocket pickers. She was a good teacher, wasn’t she? I can take things from right next to people’s skins and they don’t know what’s happening.’
‘But what if you get caught?’
‘I’ll go to jail, I suppose. It won’t be so bad. They feed you all right and you get a bit of a rest. But I won’t get caught, I’m too quick. Look, just watch me. You see that man over there? He’s a pickpocket himself but I bet I’ll take that watch off his chest without him knowing a thing about it.’
She got up from her seat and walked over to a group of men leaning on the bar. The tallest of them, a red-faced fellow in a curly brimmed bowler, smiled at her when she slid an arm round his waist and whispered something to him.
They stood together only for a few seconds before she passed on up the bar and even Lark, who was watching intently, did not see her new friend’s hands go anywhere near the big gold watch and chain. When Sadie disappeared out of the bar door, however, it was no longer shining on the man’s waistcoat.
Sadie came back to her seat, her face alive with cheeky merriment, and whispered, ‘There, I did it, look…’ She held open her skirt pocket to show the gleaming watch nestling in its depths. Then she shouted out, ‘Hey, Mally, that’s a fine watch you’re wearing. Where did you nick it?’ The tall man put his hand down to his waistcoat pocket and the expression on his face changed from pride of ownership to consternation when he discovered it was gone.
In a second he realized what had happened and called out, ‘You little bitch. You’ve got it. Give it back.’
He looked threatening as he walked towards them and Sadie rapidly fished the watch out of her pocket to hold it out to him, saying placatingly, ‘It was only a joke. I just wanted to show I could do it.’
‘You’d better not do it to me again or your fingers won’t be so nimble for long,’ he warned.
* * *
Lark grew up with Bella clucking round her like a mother hen. On her sixteenth birthday Hannah was in Marseilles and forgot to send a greetings card or letter, but Lark did not mind because she felt she was really the child of Bill and Bella, who gave her a privileged life compared to other girls of her own age in their little corner of London. When she stood in the cosy security of the bar, behind the bastion of the high mahogany counter, she was grateful to her adopted parents for their care and attention. Girls like her friend Sadie had no one to care for them, no one to worry whether they lived or died. If they became prostitutes, as so many did, or took to stealing, it was only in order to survive. She did not condemn them for it. The world of the East End lived by different rules to the fashionable society she saw when she went up to the West End on the horse-drawn tram with Bella.
Sadie was a teasing and amusing companion, worldly-wise in a way that Lark could never be. She felt it was her function to educate Lark.
‘You’re such a kid,’ she told Lark when they were sitting on the doorstep watching Bill’s white doves fluttering on the roof of the outhouse in the little yard. ‘You don’t know anything about real life, do you? You think everybody’s decent like Bill and Bella.’
‘I don’t think any such thing,’ replied Lark indignantly, ‘I know they’re not all decent but I think that inside everybody there must be something good…’
&nb
sp; Her grandmother had believed that whole-heartedly and her belief had rarely been abused by the people among whom she lived.
‘There ain’t,’ came Sadie’s sharp little voice. ‘Let me tell you there’s a lot of people that’s rotten right through like bits of mouldy old cheese.’
Lark stared at her friend’s solemn little face, which was set in frowning lines that made her look much older than her seventeen years. Sadie knew things that Lark hoped she would never have to learn.
‘I worry about you, you’re so green,’ Sadie said. ‘If anyfing happened to Bill and Bella, what would you do? What if your mother comes back and wants to take you away with her?’
Lark leaned her head on her clenched fist and said, ‘I wouldn’t go. I think the way she carries on is stupid. All that going on about blowing up people when she’s living off the rich… It’s them that give her money. It’s stupid.’
Sadie laughed. ‘She’s a card your mum, right enough. Every time I’ve seen her I think she looks like a highway robber. She shouldn’t have had a kid though, she’s not interested in things like that. I don’t expect my mother should have had me either. I’m going to make sure that doesn’t happen to me. I’m not going to have any kids to leave on doorsteps or give away to my friends.’
Lark glanced at Sadie. ‘How can you stop it? If you get married you’ll have children whether you want them or not.’
‘Don’t be daft. There’s ways. And you don’t have to be married to have kids. I could have one now if I wasn’t careful. Quinn and me’ve had plenty of tries at it.’
Lark had often seen Sadie in the company of Quinn, an open-faced young fellow who treated everyone in the bar to drinks when he was flush with money. He was very slim and fit and Bill had told her that Quinn was the most skilful cat burglar in London, who specialized in robbing big houses in prosperous parts of the city.
‘You and Quinn?’ she gasped. What a lawless pair they made, she thought with admiration.
Sadie giggled and nodded. ‘Yes, he’s my man. We’ve been together for four years now.’
‘But you were only thirteen then…’
Again Sadie giggled. ‘That’s old enough, kid,’ she said.
* * *
When Quinn and Sadie were flush with money, they did not work but wandered around London, dressed in their best and enjoying themselves. When the money was spent, they returned to pickpocketing or robbing houses of silver and jewellery.
In the first decade of the twentieth century the metropolis was bursting with prosperity and pickings were rich. Quinn was in fine form with money in his pocket and a happy Sadie on his arm when they paused one evening at the Queen’s Head and invited Lark to accompany them to pleasure gardens on the banks of the Thames at Southwark.
She was eager to go but Bella was doubtful. She eyed Sadie balefully. ‘Are you working tonight?’
Sadie shook her head. ‘No, honestly Bella, I won’t put a finger on anybody’s purse even if they throw it down at me feet. Quinn’s had a good week. We’re just out for fun. Let her come.’
‘You watch her then, she’s not used to places like that,’ warned Bella, and Sadie knew that implacable wrath would come down on her if she failed in her responsibility.
The flower-filled gardens were crowded with people who wandered around paths shaded by neatly trimmed trees. In the distance they could hear a band playing catchy melodies and Lark’s heart danced as she walked along with her friends, admiring the fashionable throng in their glorious clothes.
From time to time she was aware that Sadie’s eyes were fastened on a likely prospect, but when she saw Lark watching she grimaced and gave her irrepressible grin… Sadie was not working tonight.
With a girl on each arm and his hat cocked on the side of his head, Quinn strode along the path. As she clung to him, Lark felt the whipcord muscles ripple under her fingers and she could well understand why Sadie found him so fascinating. He exuded a sense of danger. Would she ever find a man like that, she wondered? Then her mind roamed off into one of the daydreams that had occupied so much of her waking hours lately.
She was startled back into full awareness when they reached the white-painted bandstand. It was surrounded by a dense throng listening to an orchestra that played away above the heads of the crowd. The music was popular songs and some people began to sing the words till the singing spread like a tide through the crowd. For the first time in years Lark felt an irresistible impulse to sing so she raised her head and really opened her throat, quite unaware that Quinn and Sadie were staring at her in amazement. People closest to them in the crowd had also fallen silent, stopping singing themselves so they could listen to the voice of the blonde-haired girl.
When the song finished some of the couples in the crowd turned towards her and clapped, which made her so overcome with embarrassment that the colour flooded into her cheeks.
Putting both hands to her face in shyness, she said, ‘Oh, let’s go. Everyone’s looking at me.’
‘My God,’ said an awestruck Sadie, ‘I didn’t know you could sing like that, Larkie.’
Tugging at Quinn’s arm, Lark said again, ‘Please let’s go. People are looking at us, what’s wrong?’
‘They enjoyed your singing, that’s why they’re looking. You’ve got a wonderful voice. I’ve never heard anything like it, not even on the halls,’ said Quinn.
‘Oh, don’t be silly, my singing’s nothing special. I’ve always been able to sing.’ She had never recognized her gift as anything extraordinary. Now she felt that she had drawn attention to herself in some unpleasant way.
‘I’m going to ask the band if she can go up and sing with them,’ said Sadie suddenly, and before Lark could stop her she rushed towards the bandstand and reached up to grab the coat tails of the bandleader. He did not seem too keen on her request at first but Sadie had a way with her and before long, she was back, red-faced with excitement. ‘He says you’ve to go up and he’ll play something you can sing. Come on!’
Lark nearly dropped dead with fright. ‘I can’t. I can’t go up there. All those people looking at me… I can’t.’
But Sadie was determined and she literally pulled her to the bandstand, saying, ‘You can. I’ve told that man you will. Come on. You can do it. Don’t be so silly.’
Lark looked at her face. It was obvious that the idea of appearing on a bandstand in front of a crowd held no fears for her and she expected her friend to feel the same way. ‘But what if I make a fool of myself? What if I sing wrong notes? I don’t know the words of many songs…’
‘Just make them up as you go along,’ said Sadie urgently. ‘Come on, he’s waiting.’
‘What do you want me to play?’ asked the bandleader, and Lark’s mind went blank. The only songs she could remember were the old ballads she’d sung as a child and some rollicking songs the customers of Bill’s bar belted out on Saturday nights. A music-hall song made popular by Vesta Tilley flashed into her head and she whispered to the bandleader that she’d sing it. In surprise he raised his eyebrows slightly but he started the orchestra playing and Lark was off…
‘For when a fellah has turned sixteen,
You bet your life he knows a bit,
It’s no good to take him to the pantomime,
When he winks at the principal lady all the time. When he talks, you know, of Maud and Flo,
And in the West End clubs he’s seen,
He’s no kid, for a fellah is a fellah
When a fellah has turned sixteen.’
Strangely enough, as soon as she began to sing, her nerves vanished and she felt music flowing from her. She discovered that she loved performing, she loved the feeling of people listening to her, she wanted to make them laugh and cry with her voice. She felt the power of the born performer stir inside her. As she sang, she so much forgot her shyness that she strutted across the front of the bandstand in imitation of a fashionable dandy, and the crowd loved it. When she finished they stamped their feet, whistled and cheere
d in approval. In the front she could see the delighted faces of Sadie and Quinn, who were basking in the glory of their protégée.
‘They want you to sing again,’ said the bandleader who, like the others, was astonished at the girl’s performance. ‘Do you know anything else?’
‘Only some Scottish songs. Do you know the one that goes “It’s oh but I’m longing for my ain folk…”?’
There was a Scotsman, a violinist, among the players who knew the tune and he said he would play it for her. With her hands folded in front of her skirt she faced her audience again and poured into the words of the old song all her poignant longing for the Borders, all her sense of loss and painful love for the countryside she thought she would never see again. The depth of her feeling reached out to the crowd and some of them, exiles too from various lands, felt tears rising in their eyes. Lark had inherited Jane’s power to stir the deepest emotions with music. When the last notes died away, there was a strange, stricken silence before the cheering began. And how they cheered! Hands reached up to help her down from the bandstand, people crowded round and asked her name. A few even asked where she was performing, so sure were they that she was a professional. Quinn and Sadie bore her home to Spitalfields in triumph, her head ringing with the compliments she had received.
* * *
The bar was crowded every Saturday night when Lark did her turn, and the sight of the entranced faces of her listeners filled her with a strange exultation, a wild and thrilling feeling of power. The whistling and stamping were sounds that she loved to hear. She did not realize how much she changed as soon as she began to perform.
Lark Returning Page 33
