Elephants and Castles

by John Patrick

James placed another plank across the window and thumped the nails into the wood.

  'Very wise Mister Young!'

  'Ow!' James smashed his finger with the hammer.

  'Very wise indeed! There'll be riots in the streets, you watch! An' looters! They'll be everywhere you mark my words. We’ll all be safer if our 'ouses is prop'ly secure.'

  James sucked on his injured finger. In front of him was Elizabeth’s sister, Fran, clutching a rolled blanket under one arm and a cloth bag in the other. Her three young sons followed behind, weighed down with luggage. The youngest was no more than four years old and was dragging his bag behind him.

  'I ‘eard you an’ Lizzie were Lord an’ Lady of the ‘ouse now! Very posh! Thought you might like some new man-servants!' She nodded towards her boys, the older two now wrestling alongside her. She swung out her hand and slapped the nearest child across the head. '‘Ere, you behave if you wanna stay in this ‘ouse, else Mister Young will sling yer both out!'

  'No I wouldn't… Wait, a minute, who said…'

  'Come on, Billy, ‘urry up with that!' she screeched at her youngest. 'Now, where’s Lizzy then? Livin' it up in there, bein' a proper madam, I’ll bet.' Fran moved towards the front door. 'Terrible i’n’it!' she went on. 'I blame the Dutch. They’re real dirty they are. I reckon they sent this over ‘ere on purpose. Want to kill us all. I ‘eard in Dover everyone’s dead. Everyone! Can you believe it?' She entered the hallway, without pausing for breath. 'An' in Spain....Wow, what a lovely place! He’s got good taste, an' he. Lovely, real lovely, just 'ow I’d do it. Lizzie! Lizzie, where are you girl? …And them French is no better, we could teach them a thing or two... Lizzie!'

  A muffled reply came from below.

  Fran headed down the cellar stairs, James in tow. 'Half of St Giles have got it now, loads of ‘em prob’ly dead I reckon but, they ain't saying nothin’.'

  'Frances, it’s good to see you again but…' James interrupted.

  'It’s lovely to see you too darlin'. Real lovely.' Fran pushed open the door at the bottom of the cellar stairs. ''Ere she is! 'Ere’s my girl!'

  Elizabeth was sorting jars and tins of food. Alice was perched on her hip. Fran dropped her bag and blanket and ran across the kitchen, arms out ready to embrace. Elizabeth smiled tolerantly and took the hug.

  'Lizzie, my Lizzie! 'Ow are ya girl?'

  Across Fran's shoulder, James scowled his disapproval at Elizabeth.

  'An’ look at me little Alice. She’s pretty as can be she is! Ain't she grown?' She went to kiss the toddler’s cheek but Alice buried her face into her mother.

  'Fran, where are the boys?’ asked Elizabeth looking around the room as if they might just pop out from a cupboard. 'Are they with you? Are they alright?'

  'They’s fine. They’s ‘ere somewhere. Prob’ly explorin’.'

  Elizabeth grimaced at James. James looked to the heavens and trudged back up the stairs.

  'I didn’t expect to see you Fran. What brings you ‘ere?' Elizabeth hitched Alice higher on her hip.

  'Oh wait, look what I got!' Fran dashed back across the kitchen and dug through her bag. ''Ere it is.' She pulled out a child size white linen pinafore dress and brought it back to size up against Alice.

  'Oh Fran that’s beautiful!' exclaimed Elizabeth 'But you can’t afford that, ‘specially not with your three already.'

  'Hey, this used to belong to Jake, my Jake. I made it from one of 'is shirts, them ones that 'e shouldn’t o' had, if ya know what I mean. Any'ow, 'e don’t need ‘em no more, not where 'e is, so I thought, I know who can use 'em.'

  'Thank you Fran.' Elizabeth leant forward to kiss her on the cheek. 'But don’t tell James where it came from.'

  'You know me, sister!' smirked Fran.

  'So why the bags Fran?' asked Elizabeth rhetorically.

  Fran began peering into the storage jars. 'You stocking up with food, ain't ya, Lizzie. Gettin’ organised. That’s good that is. My young sister was always good like that. We’re gonna need plenty o’ food. Don’t know how long this thing’s gonna take, now, do we?'

  'We’re gonna need lots of food?'

  'Oh, and look at this, you’ll love this, you will. Matty carved it for you all by 'imself.' She returned to her bag and began to rummage again.

  The kitchen door burst open and two scruffy boys tumbled in. Behind them followed James, carrying Fran’s youngest.

  'You don’t want to know what these three were doing in the living room,' grumbled James 'we’d be out right now if Mister Jarvis knew. We’d be gone.'

  Fran looked up from her bag holding a small carved wooden figure. 'Matt, Isaac, you been up to no good again ‘ave ya? I warned ya ’bout behaving yourselves, d’in I? If your father was here now he’d take his belt off to ya he would!'

  Fran stood up and reached for her middle child Isaac. He ran behind the table.

  'Well 'e ain’t here, is 'e?' Isaac shouted ''E's never ‘ere!'

  'Well your uncle is! An' e’ll give ya what for!'

  ''Ere, that’s mine, gi’ me that!' Matthew snatched the wooden figure from his mother.

  'Oi, you said that was for your Aunt Lizzie....an' yer uncle.'

  'No you said it was for ‘er, not me!' bawled Matthew and shoved the figure down the front of his grubby shirt.

  James was still holding on to four-year-old William and the boy was getting restless. He kicked and wriggled to get free. James leant over and placed him carefully on the ground. William span around, booted him squarely on the shin before scooting away under the table out of reach. 'It’s not yours, it’s Maffew’s!' he shouted.

  James gritted his teeth.

  'Elizabeth, come with me please.' James ushered his wife into the pantry and closed the door behind them.

  'What they doin’ Momma?' asked William.

  'They’re prob’ly just workin’ out where we gonna sleep darlin’.' Fran went back to the jars and began opening lids and tasting the contents.

  'She can’t stay here Liz. I’m sorry, I know she’s your sister but she can’t.' James spoke with a hushed voice. 'We haven’t enough food, and anyway, the more people that stay here the more chance someone’s gonna get sick and bring that disease in here. Then we’re all dead. It’s not just because of those boys. We gotta put ourselves first if we’re going to live through this. We can’t take chances.'

  'Oh James, you know how they live! That house of theirs, that whole part of town is so dirty, so many people. And she’s got no man there. We can’t send them back, they’d be sure to get sick living there.' Elizabeth softened her voice. 'I’ll help her look after the boys. They could sleep in the attic. We wouldn’t hear ‘em up there. We could even lock the door if you want, just pass the food in.'

  'Lizzie I’m sorry, no. We agreed, no more people here.' James placed a hand onto Elizabeth’s shoulder. Elizabeth swept it away.

  'No James you agreed, not me. They’re the only family I’ve got left alive and you're asking me to throw them out to die in that slum when we’ve got a house here big enough for everyone!'

  'Elizabeth, we’re you’re family whether you like it or not and you’ve got to start thinkin’ about protecting your own. You want to be responsible for killing our kids? You want to watch Alice and Samuel and Mary die of this God-awful disease. You start bringin’ people in ‘ere from the slums and family or not they’re gonna kill us. It’s not happenin’ Lizzie. An’ if you’re too weak to protect your own children, I’ll do it for you.'

  Elizabeth looked back at James in exasperation, her eyes red and full. She searched her head for the argument that would prove James wrong, but deep down she knew it wasn't there. She had daily nightmares of her children dying from this terrible sickness. Everyday she'd scour their bodies in dread of finding the marks. And she knew that more people in the house meant more risk of them catching it. It may be her sister and her nephews that they were talking about but sadly James was right; they came from slums ridden with filth and disease and the cloud of miasma
followed them everywhere, you could smell it. Protecting Fran's family could come at the price of her own children's lives.

  She spoke quietly; 'You’ll have to tell her then. I can’t.'

  James left Mary standing in the pantry. Fran was sitting at the table eating from a bowl. James pulled up a chair and sat alongside her.

  'Broth good?'

  'Very good. Reckon I’d ‘ave put a bit more salt in tho’.' She shoved in another spoonful.

  'Liz made that.'

  'Always was a good cook.' Fran ripped off a piece of bread and pushed it into her mouth.

  'Fran, this house…'

  A jar fell from the side and broke at Matthew’s feet.

  'Matt! What you doin’ there, you mongrel?' spat Fran.

  Matthew looked back unperturbed. He opened another jar.

  William’s head appeared over the side of the table. A lightning-quick hand shot out, seized Fran’s bread and then disappeared back underneath.

  'Oi, Billy! Gimme that back! You little...'

  'I’ll get it!' Isaac charged across the room and dived under the table, crashing into the leg and causing the broth to slosh over the side of the bowl.

  'On my life - I am gonna flog you two!'

  Fran jumped to her feet, sending the chair tumbling backwards. Isaac and William were battling for the bread under the table. Fran got down on all fours and joined in.

  'Gimme that back you little sods!'

  The kitchen door swung open. Miss Pewtersmith’s bulk filled the doorway. She stood open-mouthed. 'Oh my Good Lord! What the bloody ‘ell is ‘appenin’ ‘ere?'

  Chapter 7