by Evie Grace
Her nearest neighbour, who sat with her arms exposed to the elements, knocked her sieve against her padded apron, the contact between iron and leather making the hollow drumming sound that Rose had noticed when they first arrived at the brickfield.
One of the cheerful urchins swept up the piles of fine dust that fell through the women’s sieves and collected it into baskets, a separate one for each worker. When a basket had been completely filled, two girls dragged it to the set of scales that stood alongside the table. Abel weighed the basket, checked its tag and recorded the weight in his ledger, and the girls moved it aside where it remained until one of Abel’s gang members collected it and took it away.
Copying the other women, Rose picked up her sieve. A boy of Minnie’s age shovelled refuse into it, and she began to knock it against her apron, sending some of the dust spilling out through the mesh. The smell was revolting, and she was almost sick when she spotted some rotten orange peel and a piece of bone left in what Abel had called the breeze. She couldn’t stop retching.
‘This reminds me of the tannery,’ Minnie said, apparently feeling more at home than her sister. ‘We’ll get used to it.’
‘I hope so.’
The women in their coarse cotton gowns and battered black bonnets didn’t speak at first, but after a while their curiosity began to get the better of them.
‘Where have you sprung from?’ one asked, removing her grubby scarf from across her mouth.
‘Canterbury,’ Rose said, at which Minnie glanced up with a frown.
‘What’s yer name?’
‘Rose, and this is my sister, Minnie.’
‘She won’t last a day here. She isn’t strong enough. Look at her.’ The woman was young, Rose thought, only a few years older than she was. Her complexion was as brown as a berry from the sun, her hands were coarsened from manual labour and her arms were all sinew and muscle. Her hair fell in tangles from beneath her bonnet, a coppery colour dulled by a coating of dust. ‘My name’s Flo. This is Hope, my friend. Them over there’ – she pointed to two boys of about five and seven – ‘they’re my sons.’
‘Shouldn’t they be at school?’ Rose said.
‘School?’ Flo laughed. ‘Not while Abel pays them a penny or two here and there for sweeping up and fetching and carrying.’
‘It can’t be good for them, being brought up in the dust and the dirt.’ Rose spluttered as the wind swept the ash into her face.
‘Who are you to come and tell me how to bring up my children when you have none of your own?’
‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to offend you.’
‘What’s Abel doing hiring the likes of you anyway? There’s barely enough work to go round as it is,’ Flo’s friend said harshly. Rose didn’t take to her – she had a sly glint in her narrowed eyes, and her knuckles were scraped as if she enjoyed a good fight.
‘We came back four days running,’ she said. ‘The gaffer said there was someone who’d gone away sick.’
‘Yes, the poor angel. She’s been taken into the Union. I fear that the only way she’ll come out again is in the parish coffin.’ Flo seemed to wipe away a tear. ‘Isn’t there work to be ’ad in Can’erbury?’
Rose shook her head.
‘It’s the same wherever you go. There isn’t enough to go round.’ Hope gave her a hard stare. ‘It’s not paid well – they treat us like the dirt we sift. I barely earn enough to keep me out of the poorhouse.’
‘Oh, don’t listen to that one,’ Flo said. ‘She kept out of the poorhouse all last winter and the one before.’
‘Oi, keep at it,’ Abel shouted.
Rose noticed how Minnie winced at the sound. She had become a mouse, thanks to her aunt’s cruelty, and Rose wished she could find a way to help her rebuild her confidence.
As the morning passed, her fingers began to grow stiff and her wrists sore. The sun grew hotter, its rays warming the earth and sucking the stench of London’s waste into the air.
At noon, a barge drifted into the wharf-side on the high tide and the children went running down to the creek, laughing and waving, to greet it.
‘That’s the next lot,’ Flo said. ‘We can thank the Lord that we’ll never run out of dust.’
Rose continued sifting with half an eye on the men and boys who unloaded the refuse from London before loading the barge with bricks for the return journey. She wondered if any of them would end up in the hands of Arthur and Bert. The thought that it wasn’t impossible raised her spirits.
‘I do this for my boys, nobody else,’ Flo said. ‘If it weren’t for them, I’d ’ave thrown myself in the creek many years ago.’
‘Serves you right for picking a bad ’un,’ Hope said.
‘Speak for yourself. Look at you. I know he beats you black and blue.’
‘He don’t. Not any more. I’ve told him. I won’t ’ave it.’
‘You should kick him out,’ Flo said. ‘What a pair we are. Are you married, Rose?’
‘No,’ she said.
‘Have you ever been kissed?’ Hope said with a sly smile. ‘You must have been by now, a pretty one like you.’
She kept her mouth shut. She wasn’t sure she could trust them with her business yet. She yearned to share the burden of her secrets, but she couldn’t risk letting slip a word about Donald’s conviction and whereabouts. It would wreck what they had achieved so far. She glanced towards her sister.
‘The cat’s got her tongue. She’s got something to hide, if you ask me,’ Hope said, revealing her stained teeth.
‘Oh, leave her alone,’ Flo said. ‘She’ll soon start talking when she’s used to us.’
‘Are you all right?’ she heard Minnie murmur.
Rose nodded. She wasn’t looking for friendship, just the means to survive.
The pile of waste kept growing and the dust coated everything, inside and out.
She began to see how the brickfield worked. The gangs dug out the red earth and chalk, and mixed them together with the sifted ash. They made bricks from the yellowish mixture and stacked them in clamps beneath which they lit kindling. The ash in the bricks burned and baked them, and when they were done, they were left to cool before they were loaded on to the barges, ready to be used for the great railway bridge at Greenwich, and the expansion of London.
‘Where are you living, Rose?’ Flo asked at the end of the day when the brickfield fell silent, the knocking stopped and the last of several barges that had come in that day slipped silently along the creek to the estuary.
‘Oh, not far away,’ Rose said, giving Minnie a warning glance, but it was too late.
‘We ran away from home and now we are sleeping in our barrow.’
Minnie couldn’t lie to save her life, Rose thought. She had once thought it a virtue, but now it seemed like a vice.
‘A barrow?’ Hope chuckled. ‘Hey, Flo, the snooty one ’ere – I thought she was lady of the manor, but it turns out she’s lady of the barrer. Oh, don’t look at me like that, Rose. A barrer? That’s tickled me half to death.’
In spite of her embarrassment, Rose smiled.
‘You’re one of us now and we’re goin’ to help you,’ Flo said. ‘It isn’t right that you and your crippled sister sleep in a barrer, so I’m goin’ to ’ave a word with my landlord about a room – it’s a new house near Abbeyfield.’
Rose thought quickly. ‘It will have to wait until I have my wages.’
‘He’ll accept a deposit in the form of any valuables you might have.’
‘I have nothing of any worth.’ They had left Overshill almost empty-handed.
‘Well, don’t worry about that now – I’ll let you know what ’e says. What were you running away from?’ Flo said.
‘There’s no need to be shy – you’re one of us now, no longer a virgin as such,’ Hope joined in. ‘We’re all running away from something … or someone.’
Rose told them a little of the truth, that they had been orphaned and forced to live with their aunt who had pushed
Minnie down the stairs.
‘It’s a shame about ’er limp. She’s a very pretty girl,’ Hope said. ‘It was lucky she didn’t land on her ’ead.’
‘Keep your sister close by,’ Flo said. ‘There are men around here who would pay a tidy sum for her company, if you get my meaning.’
‘You aren’t suggesting that—’ Rose exclaimed.
‘Oh no, I’m saying that you should take precautions.’ Flo lowered her voice. ‘She seems a little simple – I fear she could be easily led astray and taken advantage of. Rose, you’re frowning. You do know what I’m talking about?’
‘I’m afraid that I do.’ She blushed. She didn’t know exactly what happened between a man and a woman – Arthur never had enlightened her about the bedsprings – but she understood how easily a young woman – Ma, for example – could be ruined by a liaison out of wedlock. She assumed that their mother had had a choice, but Rose was quite sure that Flo was referring to a situation where Minnie wouldn’t be allowed to say no.
Rose couldn’t bear the thought of anyone hurting her sister again. In spite of their occasional differences, she needed her. Without her, she would lie down, close her eyes and hope to die.
That evening when they were back at the barrow under the hedge with the blankets draped over the top, Minnie sewed two handkerchiefs together by moonlight.
‘That’s for you to stop the dust getting up your nose.’
‘Thank you,’ Rose said, touched by her sister’s kindness. ‘As soon as we can, we’ll find something better, I promise.’
Minnie looked at her. Rose knew what she was thinking. Don’t make promises you can’t keep.
What would they do at the end of the summer when the evenings drew in and the weather was no good for brickmaking? She thought of the times when she had sneaked stale bread out for the ducks, how Ma had warned her to waste not, want not. What would she give to have plenty, with enough spare for a bread pudding, succulent with raisins in the centre, crispy on the outside, and packed with mixed spice? All she could taste now, though, was waste and brick dust.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Gentleman or Rogue?
The next day it was raining. The dust was set and wouldn’t sift through the holes. The kindling wouldn’t light under the clamps, and a fierce easterly wind blew across the brickfields. Rose prayed that the rain would stop and the sun would break through the clouds, but it continued to pour down, turning the brickfield to a clay sludge that stuck to her boots and dragged down the hem of her skirts.
Having waited until their clothes were sodden, the men and the women gave up and set off home.
‘I expect the gaffer and ’is men will be on the booze later,’ Flo said, but Rose didn’t care. What about their money? She couldn’t afford to lose a single day’s income.
‘You get good days and bad days, Rose,’ she went on. ‘You need the money? Well, we all do. When I miss a day or two on the brickfield, I go hungry so my boys can have full bellies. It’s a hard life, but when it gets terrible bad, you can do as Hope does and go down the wharf. You can earn a few pennies there.’
Rose felt her stomach turn with disgust.
‘I’ve not tried it yet, but she says it i’n’t so bad now she has some regular fellows.’
‘You wouldn’t do it.’
‘I would if it was the only way I could feed my boys.’
‘Where is their pa?’ Rose asked.
‘He’s missing, lost at sea.’ A tear trickled down Flo’s cheek, mingling with the rain.
‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you.’
‘’E’s bin gone three summers, but there you go.’ She shrugged. ‘What can I do about it except pray that ’e’s at peace in Davy Jones’s Locker?’
‘I haven’t heard of that,’ Rose said, frowning.
‘It’s another name for the bottom of the sea.’
Rose shivered. It would be a cold, dark place, filled with monsters and strangling fronds of weed, but she couldn’t help wondering if it would be a kinder place than the brickfields of Faversham.
‘I’ve spoken to my landlord, old Poddy,’ Flo went on. ‘I’m lodging near Abbeyfield, and there’s a small room in the attic if you’d like it, but you’ll have to decide soon, or it’ll be snapped up.’
‘Well, thank you. If it’s still available next week, we’ll take it.’
‘Rose,’ Minnie nudged her. ‘Can’t we take it now? Everything in the barrow is soaked through.’
‘We can’t until we’ve been paid.’
‘Suit yourself,’ Flo said.
‘I really am grateful – I’m not just saying it. I don’t want you to feel offended …’ She bit her lip. ‘You have a heart of gold, thinking of me and Minnie like this.’
‘It’s all right, ducks. I understand. Just bear it in mind. It i’n’t much fun being homeless. People say there’s virtue in looking at the stars at night, but most of the time there’s too much cloud to see ’em. And the fresh air is supposed to be good for you, except that when you’re sleeping near the water, you can’t help breathing in the foul vapours. Only the other day, they found a mother and her littl’un along the bank over there’ – she pointed along the creek – ‘dead as doornails. They looked like they were sleeping, but they were gorn into the hands of the Lord. Someone sent for the coffin from the Union and had ’em buried in a paupers’ grave.’
‘Why didn’t the mother seek help from the poorhouse?’ Rose asked. ‘What a terrible thing to have happened to an innocent child.’
‘At first we thought they was murdered, but the doctor said no, they expired from the bad air getting into their chests,’ Flo explained. ‘People who knew her said the mother was a lunatic – she’d been directed to the Union, but she didn’t get there. I reckon it would ’ave bin her salvation.’
Rose wondered if she’d been too addled to find her way, or if she’d made the choice to die beside the creek rather than suffer the shame of accepting the hospitality of the poorhouse. What would she have done in that situation? Her grandmother had chosen the latter, and Rose was grateful for that, because if she hadn’t, she might well not have been born.
The rain stopped and the sun crept out from behind the clouds as they made their way back to the barrow. Rose pulled the oilcloth from over the top and spread it out on the bushes to dry.
‘As soon as we’re paid, we’ll rent a room, I promise,’ she said, feeling a little more cheerful as steam began to rise from the rest of the blankets and clothes she’d put out. ‘Minnie, pick some of that mint over there. I have a fancy for some tea.’ She lit a small fire, warmed the water they’d carried back from the pump in the town, and made tea with fresh leaves of wild mint.
‘This must be what heaven is like,’ Minnie said, lying back in the barrow and looking up at the sky as they ate bread and jam.
‘I hope so.’
‘I think it must be a place where the sun is always shining,’ Minnie smiled.
The next day, the sun came out again, and they went back to work at Kingsfield. Abel paid their wages and extended Rose’s credit for another week, so she had just enough for the rent on the room in Flo’s lodging-house.
‘You’re lucky – I’ve had another family interested in the place,’ Flo’s landlord said, showing them up three flights of stairs to the attic. It was hot, there was no fireplace and the privy was at the end of the garden, but it would do, Rose thought. Beggars couldn’t be choosers.
‘How much is it?’ she asked.
Old Poddy named a price. ‘I can’t go any lower.’
‘Are you sure you won’t take a shilling less, half a shilling?’
‘You’re wasting my time,’ he said crossly.
‘It’s a high price to pay, but we’ll take it, thank you. I’m sorry if I’ve caused you offence, but’ – she smiled – ‘I had to try.’
‘I know you did, but I have to make a living too,’ he said, holding out his hand for payment.
Rose gave him almost
all of her money in return for the key before she and Minnie went to fetch the barrow from where they had left it among the bushes near the gravel pits.
On their way back, they bought leftovers – cheese, bread and broken biscuits – from the stalls at knock-down prices because it was the end of the day. At the house, they parked the barrow at the rear where the privy stank and a big fat pig terrorised them, chasing them around the garden before they unpacked their belongings and carried them up the stairs.
Rose opened the window to air the room and made the bed while Minnie prepared a meal from their purchases.
‘I’ve cut the cheese into the thinnest slices possible,’ she said, chuckling. ‘Don’t you think that looks like a dinner fit for Queen Victoria herself?’
‘It looks … wonderful.’ Rose sat on the edge of the bed and they shared the meagre offering, pretending it was boiled beef in gravy, the scent of which was drifting up through the house from another room.
‘Let’s leave our clothes on,’ Minnie whispered when they were getting ready for bed.
Rose forced a smile. ‘We’ll pretend we are wearing our best silk nightgowns.’
‘And this is our grand house – just like Churt House in Overshill.’
‘I think that might be a stretch of the imagination too far.’
They prayed for their dearly departed parents, and for their brothers, and Aunt Marjorie, and then huddled together on the lumpy mattress with another person’s smell on the pillows and their stains on the coverlet. It was painful to recall how comfortable they had been at Willow Place and how far they had fallen.
The next morning, they ate cold porridge flavoured with a sprinkling of sugar, from three days before.
‘Eat, Rose,’ Minnie urged her, handing her the spoon. ‘You must eat. That’s what you’ve been telling me.’
She had no appetite. She picked up a spoonful and let it slide back into the bowl. Arthur could have used it as mortar for his bricklaying, she thought.
‘You have it.’ She pushed the bowl towards her sister. ‘Your need is greater than mine.’
