The Best of Sisters

by Dilly Court

  One way or another, it had been a thoroughly upsetting day from start to finish and the thought of a party in the pub was more depressing than exciting. But Millie and Davy had their hearts set on celebrating her birthday and how could she explain to them that it was at this time of year when she missed Bart and Freddie the most. How could she tell any of them that it was on her birthday that she felt the loss of her mother and father all the more keenly? Even though Dolly and Ted had been the best of surrogate parents, and she loved Millie with all her heart, they were not blood relations. If she were to tell the truth, she would have liked to be quiet this evening instead of the centre of attention: sometimes, just occasionally, it would be nice to have some time to herself, when she could think and remember her lost loved ones without everyone fussing round and trying to cheer her up.

  At home in Hemp Yard, everyone seemed determined that she would have a splendid time and even Dolly had seemed to rally a little. Ada, who now came round every day to help take care of Dolly, had dressed her in her best print gown and had even managed to tame her cloud of white hair into a knot at the back of her head, although stray wisps kept popping out, giving her head the appearance of a dandelion clock. She chattered excitedly, making little sense, and Eliza automatically agreed with everything that she said; it was easier than trying to bring her confused mind back into the real world.

  Millie had put on her best dress and tied ribbons in her hair; her cheeks were flushed and her eyes sparkling with excitement. She kept running to the window every time there was the rumble of a cart in the street outside or the sound of hobnails on cobbles.

  ‘Four white horses,’ Dolly said, looking up expectantly. ‘Are they bringing me carriage now, Eliza?’

  ‘There’s no carriage, Mum,’ Millie said, casting an anxious glance at Eliza.

  ‘But we are going to the palace, aren’t we?’ Dolly’s bottom lip wobbled as if she were about to cry. ‘We are going to see the queen?’

  ‘That’s right, we’re going to see the queen,’ Eliza said, wrapping Dolly in her shawl.

  ‘What’s that about the queen?’ Ted came downstairs, struggling with his collar stud. ‘What’s she on about now? Help me, Liza. I can’t do up this damn stud.’

  Dolly rocked backwards and forwards in her chair, pointing her finger at Ted and giggling. ‘He can’t go to the palace looking like that. The queen won’t let him in. Pussycat, pussycat where have you been? I’ve been to London to look at the queen.’

  ‘If you can’t say something sensible, woman, keep your stupid remarks to yourself.’

  ‘Don’t,’ Eliza said, attempting to fix the collar onto the stud. ‘You know she can’t help it, Dad.’

  Dolly smiled up at them and began to sing the nursery rhyme in a tuneless falsetto. Ted turned his back on her, glaring at Eliza. ‘She’s gone barmy and I can’t stand it. Where’s my Dolly gone? I don’t know that mad woman sitting there.’

  ‘Hush, now. She’ll hear you.’ Somehow Eliza managed to secure the stud even though Ted was jerking his head this way and that. She cast a beseeching glance at Millie. ‘Go outside and see if they’re coming.’

  Millie nodded. She opened the door and peered out. ‘I can see them,’ she cried excitedly. ‘It’s Davy and Pete, and they’ve got a handcart.’

  ‘What’s the point of taking Dolly to the pub? She doesn’t even know what day it is.’ Pushing past Millie, Ted paused in the doorway. ‘I’m going on ahead to make sure we can get her into the back room before any of my mates sees her in that state.’

  An involuntary sigh escaped from Eliza’s lips as she watched him walk out of the small house that had once been such a happy home. She had never felt less like celebrating anything in her whole life, but Millie was obviously looking forward to the party and she didn’t want to spoil it for her.

  ‘Is the carriage coming?’ Dolly demanded. ‘Are there four white horses and a footman with gold braid?’

  ‘Yes, Mum,’ Eliza said hastily, seeing Dolly’s bottom lip starting to quiver. ‘It’s just as you wanted. Let me help you up. Give us a hand, Millie.’

  Somehow, they managed to get Dolly onto her feet just as Davy and Pete arrived.

  Davy walked past Millie without a sideways glance and he flashed an appreciative smile at Eliza. ‘You look good enough to eat, girl. Are you ready for the off?’

  ‘We’re all set.’ She could have shaken him for not noticing that Millie had made a special effort with her appearance. Even across the room Eliza could sense the hurt and disappointment radiating from her.

  ‘You look nice too, Millie,’ Pete said, grinning sheepishly and shifting from foot to foot.

  Resisting the temptation to hug him, Eliza smiled. She had always liked Davy’s brother Pete, who at seventeen was a good-natured, gangly youth, with arms that seemed too long for his body so that his hands and wrists poked out like bundles of sticks from jacket sleeves that were several inches too short.

  ‘Some people wouldn’t notice if I was in me birthday suit,’ Millie said, scowling at Davy.

  ‘Course we would,’ Davy said, tweaking one of her hair ribbons. ‘You’d look like a skinned rabbit.’

  ‘I don’t like coney fur,’ Dolly said, swaying on her feet as Millie and Eliza tried to hold her up. ‘Fetch me ermine wrap, Millie. I don’t want to wear this old crocheted shawl. I got to look me best for her majesty.’

  ‘Let me have her,’ Davy said, scooping Dolly up in his arms. ‘Come along, Aunt Dolly, we got your conveyance waiting outside.’

  ‘I won’t go unless I got four white horses,’ Dolly protested, smacking the side of his head with her hand. ‘And where’s the footman with gold braid?’

  ‘I’m here, missis,’ Pete said grinning.

  ‘You’re not a footman. You ain’t got no gold braid.’ Twisting round in Davy’s arms, Dolly held her hand out to Eliza. ‘I need me medicine, Liza. Give us a drop or I’ll wet meself.’

  ‘Best do as she says,’ Davy said, jerking his head at the brown medicine bottle on the mantelshelf.

  Eliza hesitated. The doctor had insisted that they must cut down on Dolly’s medication; he had said that she was becoming addicted to laudanum, and it was making her illness worse instead of better.

  ‘For God’s sake, give it her,’ Davy hissed. ‘You know she’ll do it if you don’t give her a dose.’

  Before Eliza could say anything, Millie had taken the bottle from the shelf. ‘Here, Liza. Give her some quick. We don’t want to spoil your party and we can’t leave her here on her own.’

  Dolly had begun to kick and wail and there was nothing Eliza could do but uncork the bottle and hold it to Dolly’s lips. She drank thirstily, grabbing the bottle so that Eliza had to struggle to get it away from her greedy mouth. ‘She shouldn’t have that much,’ Eliza said, shaking her head. ‘It’s sending her doolally tap.’

  The effect of the laudanum was almost immediate and Dolly’s mouth curved in a beatific smile as her head lolled against Davy’s shoulder. ‘Tell the queen I’ll be there in two ticks,’ she murmured, closing her eyes.

  ‘Get her on the cart while she’s off with the fairies,’ Pete said, holding the door open. ‘She’ll never know it weren’t the coach and four but Greasy Harry’s handcart what he uses to take the pig carcasses from Smithfield to his sausage factory.’

  With Dolly slumped on the cart like a November effigy or a guy, Davy pushed and Pete pulled from the front; Eliza and Millie followed on behind as they made their way to Paddy’s Goose in Shadwell High Street. In the private room at the back of the pub, Ted was sitting on one side of the fireplace smoking a pipe and drinking a pint of beer while he chatted to Jiggins. Ada was attempting to control the younger boys, Eddie, Artie and Sammy, who were chasing each other round and round and in and out of the tables, while Ruth and Mary sat primly sipping their drinks, and obviously considering themselves too grown-up for such goings-on. Only Janet was missing but she was now married and living in Plaistow with her husba
nd and baby. Being heavily pregnant with her second child, she had declined the invitation, but had sent a basket of apples by way of a present.

  ‘That was kind of Janet,’ Eliza said, having admired the gift.

  ‘She sent it special, seeing as how she remembered you liked apples,’ Ada said proudly.

  Taking one, Millie bit into the rosy apple. ‘And her Len happens to be a porter at Covent Garden market. I bet he pinched these when no one was looking.’

  ‘Don’t be unkind,’ Eliza whispered, trying not to laugh. It was well known that Len was on the mean side of thrifty, but she would not hurt Ada’s feeling for the world.

  Having settled Dolly in a chair well away from his boisterous brothers, Davy made his way across the room to Eliza. ‘Happy birthday, Liza.’ Slipping his hand inside his jacket, he pulled a small package from his breast pocket. ‘It ain’t much but I’m sick of the sight of that mourning brooch. I thought it was time you had something a bit more cheery.’ Taking her hand, he closed her fingers around the crinkled brown paper.

  ‘Ta, but you shouldn’t have.’

  ‘Well, open it then.’

  Teasing the paper apart, Eliza stared down at the brooch, a lover’s knot made of twisted gold wire. ‘It’s lovely. But it’s real gold; you shouldn’t have wasted your money on me, Davy.’

  Davy frowned. ‘It’s my money and I saved up a whole year for that, Liza. Put it on; let me see you wearing it.’

  With her fingers touching the mourning brooch, Eliza looked up into Davy’s expectant face. She knew that he meant well, but he could not possibly understand what this brooch meant to her. To refrain from wearing it would be like casting her memories aside, and she couldn’t do it. She was about to pin the lover’s knot just below her collarbone when Davy stopped her. ‘Not there,’ he said, making a move to unpin the mourning brooch. ‘Take that miserable thing off.’

  Eliza slapped his hand away. ‘No.’

  ‘What’s the matter?’ Millie was at her side, looking anxiously from one to the other. ‘What have you done, Davy?’

  Shrugging, Davy turned away from them. ‘Nothing. She’s just being bloody silly.’

  Ada grasped him by the arm. ‘Don’t, Davy. Don’t spoil her day.’

  ‘I need a drink,’ Davy said, making for the door. ‘I’ll be in the taproom. Seems I’m not wanted here.’

  Eliza opened her mouth to protest but no words came. With her hand covering the brooch at her throat, she felt tears stinging the back of her eyes. Davy did not understand her at all: in this room full of people, she had never felt so alone. Even Millie was staring at her with a hostile expression in her eyes, a resentful look that spoke more than words. Ada was holding her arm, patting it and trying to soothe her feelings by telling her that Davy was a good boy and he meant well.

  A sudden sharp pain in the palm of her hand made Eliza uncurl her tense fingers and look down. A bead of scarlet blood oozed from the spot where the pin of the lover’s knot had pierced her skin. Before she had time to wipe it away, the door to the taproom opened and Davy burst in, followed by Pete. The expression on their faces caused a sudden hush in the room and even the small boys paused in their wild game.

  ‘Fire,’ shouted Davy. ‘The chandlery and the sail loft are on fire.’

  Chapter Twelve

  The air was thick with acrid smoke billowing from the building and belching in great clouds from the broken windows. Burning pitch, paint and paraffin filled the air with noxious fumes. The explosive power of the fire had shattered the windowpanes and shards of glass covered the street like jagged hailstones. With her lungs bursting and her muscles screaming from the effort, Eliza worked in the human chain, handing bucket after bucket of water to Davy as it came along the line that stretched down to the quay wall. Her eyes watered from the stinging effects of the smoke, but there was no time to feel pain or to acknowledge physical discomfort; the fire must be put out at all costs or the whole row of warehouses and shipping offices would be razed to the ground.

  ‘Take a rest, Liza,’ Davy said, peering at her anxiously over his shoulder as she handed him an overflowing bucket. ‘This is man’s work.’

  ‘It’s my business that’s going up in flames,’ Eliza said, shoving the bucket into his hands. ‘Never mind me.’

  At the front of the chain she could hear Ted’s voice ringing out loud and clear directing the operation and controlling the crowd of onlookers that had collected to watch the spectacle. All the men in the pub had turned out to help put out the blaze, and above the roar of the inferno there was the sound of horses’ hooves as the owners of the neighbouring premises arrived. Word had spread quickly in this close-knit community and now everyone, from the boy apprentices to the owner of the warehouse adjoining the chandlery, had rolled up their sleeves and joined together to battle the fire. With its bell jangling the horse-drawn wagon of the fire brigade, K division, clattered onto the cobbles and the firemen went into their well-practised drill.

  ‘Stand back,’ Ted roared, spreading out his arms and urging the crowd to move away. ‘It’s going to go at any minute.’

  The ground beneath Eliza’s feet began to shake. A low rumbling sound evolved into a mighty explosion of tumbling masonry as the walls collapsed and the roof caved in, sending up a choking fog of dust, sparks and flying debris. Eliza’s knees buckled beneath her as a wave of dizziness swept over her. She would have crumpled to the ground if a strong pair of arms had not dragged her clear of the danger and continued to support her. All around them there was a moment of stunned silence; buckets of water fell from nerveless hands, spewing the muddy water from the Thames onto the cobbles where it hissed and evaporated in the intense heat. Then pandemonium broke loose all around them as the human chain dispersed, men and woman running for cover as bits of brick and mortar hailed down on them.

  As she fought for breath in the thick cloud of dust and smoke, Eliza realised that she was being held in the arms of a complete stranger.

  ‘Are you all right?’

  The voice that penetrated her consciousness was deep and pleasant and the accent was that of an educated gentleman. The hand that was chafing hers was soft and smooth as a lady’s. With a huge effort, Eliza fought off the feeling of nausea and faintness that was threatening to engulf her. Murmuring her thanks, she drew herself upright, peering into the flaming abyss that had once been her home and her livelihood. ‘It’s gone – all gone.’

  ‘Let me take you home. It’s not safe here.’

  ‘Who are you?’ Rubbing her eyes with the back of her hand, Eliza squinted through the pall of smoke at the man who, minutes ago, had simply been part of the anonymous chain of people trying to save the building. In the fiery glow of the flames she saw that he was tall, thin and as sooty as a chimney sweep. Then, as she fully regained her senses, the identity of the stranger did not seem to matter. ‘Davy, where’s Davy?’ Turning away, Eliza scanned the faces in the crowd milling around her. ‘Davy, where are you?’

  ‘Liza, I’m here.’ Davy’s familiar figure pushed through the crowd and he swept her up in a hug that lifted her feet from the ground. ‘Thank God. I thought you was buried underneath that mass of bricks.’

  ‘No, I’m fine, thanks to this gent.’ Eliza turned to her rescuer, but he was nowhere to be seen. ‘He’s gone.’

  ‘Never mind that now. Let’s get you home.’ Davy took her by the hand and began pushing his way through the crowd.

  ‘Bad do, Davy,’ Jiggins said, slapping him on the back. ‘But at least we saved the rest of the street.’

  ‘Wait.’ Eliza came to a halt, refusing to budge. ‘I can’t just leave it like this. I might be able to salvage something from the store.’

  ‘It’s nothing but ashes, love. It’s all gone, including the sail loft and everything in it. There’s nothing we can do tonight.’

  Staring into the glowing embers with tongues of flame licking round the fallen beams, Eliza shook her head. ‘I’ve lost everything. Everything.’
r />   ‘Don’t think about it now.’

  ‘They all turned out to help,’ Eliza said, gazing round at the familiar faces in the crowd as they began to disperse. The scarecrow-like figures, blackened, wet and with their clothes singed and torn, were slowly ambling off to their respective homes. Even in their exhausted, dirty state, most of them managed a wave or a weary smile of sympathy as they filed past her.

  ‘If you need anything, feel free to call on me.’ A portly man with his face beaded with sweat was shrugging on his jacket. Eliza recognised him as Aaron Miller, the corn merchant who owned a large warehouse in Pennington Street and a fleet of ships. Although she had never dealt with him direct, she had supplied his company with much of their chandlery requirements. Deeply touched that such an important man should have come to her aid, it was all she could do to acknowledge his kind words. In spite of her distress, Eliza could only wonder at the spirit of the people who had turned out to help quench the fire regardless of their own safety. The human chain had been manned by shopkeepers, costermongers, dockers, bootblacks and even gentlemen, like the young man who had probably saved her life and then disappeared into the darkness without even revealing his identity. They had nothing in common except the East End spirit that always seemed to come alive in times of crisis. Old grudges were forgotten, gang wars set aside and the dark river gave up its waters to save life instead of taking it away.

  ‘Come on, Liza,’ Davy said, placing his arm round her shoulders. ‘We won’t let this beat us. Let’s go home.’

  ‘Yes, I suppose so.’ Eliza allowed him to lead her away from the smouldering building with the firemen still in attendance dousing the embers to prevent the fire rekindling. ‘We left Dolly in the pub. We must fetch her; she’ll be scared to death.’

  Davy gave her shoulders a comforting hug. ‘Mum and Millie will have looked after her.’

  ‘Yes, of course,’ Eliza said, rubbing her eyes. Now that the danger was past, the whole scene was taking on a nightmarish quality. ‘We’d best find Ted. He was a proper hero tonight. Just like his old self.’