by Dilly Court
Ma Johnson opened the door just a crack. 'Who's there?'
'It's me, Mrs Johnson. Eloise Cribb from number sixteen.'
'The snooty bitch moved away in January,' Ma Johnson muttered, squinting myopically at her.
Eloise ignored the insult. It was well known in the street that Ma Johnson was a bit doolally tap. Eloise attempted a smile. 'I've come back, Mrs Johnson. I was looking for Fanny Higgins, but it seems that there is someone else living there now.'
'That's right. She's not there any more. Don't waste my time, whoever you are.'
'Please don't shut the door. It's Eloise; you remember me. Please tell me where Fanny has gone and why she moved away.'
Ma Johnson opened the door a little wider. 'You won't find Fanny here, nor her nippers. Her old man got hisself killed on the railway; fell under a train, the silly bleeder. She's gone to the workhouse – they've all gone there. You won't see them again, and that's for sure. There's only one way out of that place – feet first.' With a shrill cackle of laughter, Ma Johnson slammed the door in Eloise's face.
Eloise stared blankly at the battered door panels and the iron doorknocker hanging by a single screw. She could hardly believe her own ears. Poor Fanny, who had been her staunch friend and ally through the difficult times, and now she was incarcerated in that terrible place, the mere mention of which cast terror into people's hearts. Eloise shuddered. She had not anticipated anything like this, and now she was completely at a loss. She looked round desperately, and was wondering what to do next when she saw one of Ma Johnson's sons strolling down the street towards her. She had always kept well away from Abe and Isaac Johnson, who shared the reputation of drinking too much on a Saturday night and getting into brawls. She attempted to pick up her luggage, but Joss hampered her every movement and the cases were heavy.
'Hold on a moment, ducks.'
Eloise had no alternative but to stay where she was. She was not sure whether it was Abe or Isaac who had quickened his pace and was advancing on her. She half expected him to rant at her for disturbing his mother, but as he drew nearer she saw to her relief that he looked more concerned than angry. 'Hello, Abe.'
He dragged off his cap, grinning. 'It's Isaac, Mrs Cribb. I thought as how you'd moved away from here.'
'I came to see Mrs Higgins, but your mother told me that she's gone to the workhouse.'
'The old girl's got it right for once, although most of the time you can't believe a word she says.'
Beth was howling with all her might now, almost deafening Eloise as she bent down to comfort Joss, who was also getting beside himself with hunger and exhaustion. Her mind had gone completely blank and she could think only of her two sobbing children. All she knew was that she must find them shelter for the night and a hot meal. She cast a wary glance at Isaac who was watching her with interest. 'Mr Johnson, Isaac, I have just returned from the north and I need to find somewhere to stay. Do you know where I can find a respectable lodging house that is not too far from here?'
'I know a place. I'll take you there.'
'That's very kind of you.'
'It's no trouble. The little fellah looks done in and you do too, if you don't mind my saying so.' Isaac scooped Joss up from the ground and set him on his shoulders. 'There, young 'un. Now you're bigger than me, so you can stop piping your eye and enjoy the ride.' With a cheery wink at Eloise, Isaac picked up the two pieces of luggage and set off down the street.
Eloise had no alternative but to follow him through the busy streets. Isaac strode on with Joss bouncing on his shoulders and gurgling with laughter, all his woes forgotten as he enjoyed this new experience. When at last Isaac came to a halt in Nile Street, it was outside a four-storey house in the middle of a late eighteenth-century terrace. Eloise stared up at the soot-encrusted brick façade, which might once have housed a prosperous merchant and his family, but was now looking decidedly shabby and run down. There were several pubs in the street which were quiet at this time of day, but, Eloise thought, would probably prove to be quite rowdy late at night. Dotted amongst them were a few small shops with dilapidated signs hanging above their doors and flies buzzing angrily on the insides of their grimy windows. Eloise was struck by the stark contrast between the Danbys' homely farmhouse and this grey forbidding place which looked more like a prison than a welcoming refuge. It was just temporary, she told herself as Isaac rapped on the front door. Tomorrow she would find them somewhere to stay in a more salubrious area. Isaac thumped the knocker again, and after a few moments the door was opened by a tiny maidservant. A white mobcap came so low over her eyebrows that she had to tilt her head back to look up at him, and the print dress she was wearing was several sizes too large for her so that it swamped her small frame. Eloise was almost too tired and distraught to care, but she could see that the girl was probably no more than nine or ten years of age.
'Hello, Annie,' Isaac said, patting her on the head. 'How's my best girl?'
'Leave off, mister,' Annie said, poking out her tongue in response. 'What d'you want?'
'I've brought some new tenants. This lady and her children need a room for the night.'
'This ain't no hotel,' Annie retorted, standing arms akimbo. 'You brung her to the wrong place, cully.'
Isaac's smile was replaced by an ominous scowl. 'That's enough of your sauce, girl. You can let us in for a start and then I want you to fetch Mrs King, d'you hear me?'
Annie took several steps backwards and her pinched features assumed the look of a whipped cur. 'All right, all right. Keep your hair on, mister.' She turned and ran down a long and narrow passageway, calling out for her mistress.
'Step inside,' Isaac said, motioning Eloise to enter the hallway. 'This ain't Buckingham Palace, but Queenie runs a respectable house and it's clean.'
Momentarily forgetting her misgivings, Eloise stared at him in disbelief. 'Queenie King?'
Isaac nodded his head and chuckled deep in his throat. 'Aye, that's the nub of it. Good name, ain't it? And you'll find she's a queen amongst women, as long as you keep on the right side of her.' At the sound of approaching footsteps, Isaac set Joss down on the ground and he hid behind his mother as a large woman bore down on them like a brigantine in full sail. She was tightly corseted and her ample bosom was hung with gold chains and glass beads which clanked together with every step she took in her high heeled boots. She ignored Eloise but she smiled coquettishly at Isaac. 'Well, now. Isaac, me old cock sparrow, where've you been hiding these past few weeks?'
He moved forward swiftly to grab her round the waist and Eloise could not help noticing that his arms only just stretched round Queenie's great girth in spite of her corsets. He planted a smacking kiss on her cherry-red lips, which Eloise suspected were rouged; as were Queenie's cheeks which were unnaturally rosy for a woman of advancing years. It occurred to her inconsequentially that Papa would have been quite censorious about a woman who painted her face and wore a gown cut low enough to leave very little to the imagination. Eloise put the vision of her father's shocked face out of her mind. What did it matter, after all? She was just here to lodge for a night or two until she found suitable rooms to rent. She managed a smile as Queenie extricated herself from Isaac's arms and surged towards her with a questioning look on her face. 'So, you are a friend of Isaac's, are you, lady?'
Eloise shook her head. 'No, Mrs King, not really. We were neighbours in Myrtle Street and Isaac, I mean Mr Johnson, offered to help me find lodgings.'
Queenie shot Isaac a knowing glance. 'I'm sure he did. Well, as it happens you're in luck, my dear. I have a good room at the back of the house, which was vacated today by a commercial traveller – reluctantly, I may say. My rooms are much in demand, Miss – er – Mrs . . .?'
'Mrs Cribb,' Eloise said with a proud tilt of her head. 'I am a widow, ma'am.'
'Are you indeed? Well, Mrs Cribb, dear, you follow me, and you, Isaac Johnson, can go to my parlour where we will renew our acquaintance over a glass of blue ruin.' She flashed him a smile and th
en set off down the passage towards the back of the house.
Eloise held her hand out to Isaac. 'Thank you very much, Mr Johnson. I'm truly grateful for your help.'
He dragged his cap off his head with a bashful smile. 'It weren't nothing, ma'am. Glad to be of help. Goodbye, young Joss. Be a good boy for your ma.'
Joss plugged his thumb in his mouth and reached up to grasp his mother's hand. With a last grateful smile in Isaac's direction, Eloise lifted Beth to a more comfortable position on her hip and she hurried after Queenie.
'There!' Queenie said, throwing a door open with the air of a conjuror pulling a bunch of paper flowers from his coat sleeve. 'Now don't tell me this ain't the best room you've ever seen. I pride myself in keeping a clean house, so no muddy boots allowed.' Queenie eyed Joss severely and he buried his face in his mother's skirts. Eloise entered the room, wrinkling her nose at the smell of boiled fish that was wafting in through the open window. Queenie hurried past her to slam the sash down. 'The kitchen's below, but you'll get used to the smell of cooking. Friday is always fish for supper, not that I'm one of them Jesuits but all denominations are welcome here. I do me best to make everyone feel at home. Will you be taking supper tonight, Mrs Cribb?'
Eloise did not much fancy boiled fish, but she had not eaten since midday when she and Joss had shared a hunk of bread, freshly made that morning by Gladys, and a slice of cheese from the farm's own dairy. She felt suddenly quite homesick for Danby Farm.
'Supper is extra, of course,' Queenie continued without waiting for a reply. 'But you won't get better food in Shoreditch, I can promise you that.'
'Thank you, I will take supper, and breakfast too, if that's possible.'
'Breakfast is served in the dining parlour at eight o'clock on the dot, and supper is at seven. Those who don't sit down on time go without. I have to have rules, Mrs Cribb.'
'Yes, I'm sure.' A wave of tiredness swept over Eloise, but Joss seemed to have found his second wind and he clambered onto the iron bedstead and began rolling around on the coverlet.
'Not with his shoes on, if you please,' Queenie said, frowning. 'I don't hold with nippers running riot, Mrs Cribb. I hope you will keep the young rascal under control.'
'Of course,' Eloise said, setting Beth down on the bed and shaking her head at Joss. 'Don't bounce on the bed, dear. You know Mama doesn't allow it at home.'
Queenie nodded her head. 'Quite right. A firm hand is what is needed from the start. There's just one thing before I leave you to settle in, ma'am. Money!' Queenie held out her hand. 'I charge three shillings a night and that includes breakfast, but supper is extra. However, I'm a generous woman and I won't charge you for the nippers, but you'll have to buy their milk from the dairy on the corner. I don't usually take in children, but I'm making an exception as you're a friend of Isaac's. Money in advance if you please, and an extra shilling for supper. Only the best food is served in my dining parlour.'
Eloise took out her purse and counted out four shilling pieces, but Queenie raised her eyebrows and extended her plump hand a little further in a gesture suggesting that this was not enough. 'You'll be staying more than the one night, I suppose. Cash strictly in advance, Mrs Cribb.'
'Two nights at the most, ma'am,' Eloise said, counting out another four coins. 'I'm obliged to you.'
'I'll have your luggage brought to you. And the privy is in the yard at the back of the house. We have the usual conveniences, and the girl will bring you warm water for washing in the morning. I run this establishment like a high class hotel, as I am sure you will soon see.'
Just as Queenie was about to leave the room, Eloise called her back. 'Do you think we could have coal for the fire, ma'am? It still gets a bit chilly at night and my children have only recently recovered from an illness.'
Queenie's pencilled brows shot high up into her coiffed head. 'Nothing catching, I hope?'
'Nothing to worry about, Mrs King.'
'Fires lit in the rooms from October to the end of April only. I cannot make exceptions, Mrs Cribb, or all my lodgers would want the same.' Queenie swept out of the room, closing the door behind her.
Eloise sank down on the bed to cuddle Joss and Beth, rocking them in her arms. 'We'll get through this, my darlings. Mama will make everything better, you'll see.'
Supper was served, as Queenie had promised, promptly at seven o'clock. Eloise took her seat at table, with Beth on her knee and Joss sitting on a pile of cushions at her side. The dining table would have seated ten quite comfortably, but to her relief there were only two of the residents present on this particular evening. One was an elderly gentleman who was obviously extremely deaf, but even with the use of an ear trumpet it was clear that he could barely make out what Annie was saying when she yelled at him. She seemed to be the maid of all work and came tottering in with a large tureen of soup. She served the elderly gentleman first. 'It's oxtail soup, Mr Wallace,' she shouted into his ear trumpet. 'Eat up. Eat up.'
'Eh, what did you say?' Mr Wallace demanded crossly. 'Speak up, girl, don't mumble.'
'Daft old bugger,' Annie muttered, slopping soup into the plate of the bespectacled gentleman sitting at the far end of the table. His starched wing collar and shiny black suit suggested to Eloise that he held some kind of clerical position, but he seemed very reserved and did not speak at all unless spoken to. He did not even complain when Annie spilt some of the soup on his hand; he merely gave her a reproachful look and wiped it off on his table napkin.
'Soup for you, missis?' Annie demanded, hovering at Eloise's side with the tureen.
'Yes, please, and just a little for Joss.'
'You could sop some of it up on a bit of bread for the babe,' Annie said, eyeing Beth with interest. 'I used to feed the little 'uns when I was in the Foundling Hospital. I'm good with babies, I am.'
'I'm sure you are,' Eloise said, smiling at this proud statement. 'How old are you, Annie?'
'I ain't too sure, but I think I might be ten or thereabouts. I was left on the doorstep, I was. Another hour and they said I would have froze to death, but I'm a tough 'un – it would take more than that to kill me. I've had measles, mumps and scarlet fever and I'm still here to tell the tale.'
'Well, you're very lucky then,' Eloise murmured, dipping bread into the soup and feeding it alternately to Joss and Beth. 'You must be tough indeed, and I'm sure you work very hard too.'
'That I do, missis.' Annie pulled out the chair next to Eloise and sat down, warming to her theme. 'I'm up at five and I light the fire in the range. Then I cleans the grate in the fat old cow's parlour, although don't let on that I called her that, or she'll skin me alive. I help Cook with the breakfasts and I clean the men's boots. I'm a real slave, I am. Here, let me feed the baby while you get some food inside you.' Without waiting for an answer, Annie took a chunk of bread and broke off tiny pieces, which she popped into Beth's eager mouth. 'She's a pretty little thing. What's her name?'
'Oy, you, girl.' Mr Wallace waved his ear trumpet at her. 'I want some more soup.'
Annie waved back at him. 'Shut your gob, you silly old goat.' She looked up at Eloise and grinned. 'He's deaf as a post, but so long as I keep smiling and let him pat me bum occasionally, it keeps the old fool sweet.' She blew him a kiss. 'Daft old squit.'
'Annie, please,' Eloise murmured. 'Watch your language in front of Joss; he's just learning to talk.'
Annie wrinkled her snub nose and pulled a face. 'He'll learn the bad words long afore he learns to speak proper, but I'll try to watch me mouth. I like you, missis. You talk to me like I was a human being and not something what someone scraped off the bottom of their shoe. Not like her, the fat old crow. She beats me black and blue if I don't do just what she says, but I get me own back. I spit in her hot chocolate before I gives it to her, and I put maggots in her mashed taters. She's so blooming greedy that she munches them up without even noticing.'
Eloise swallowed a mouthful of soup with difficulty. She was so hungry that she would have eaten almost anything
, but surprisingly the soup was very tasty. 'I hope you didn't. . .'
Annie threw back her head and roared with laughter. 'Not for you, missis. I only does it to them as gets on me wrong side.' She paled and leapt to her feet as the door opened and Queenie entered the room. 'I was just helping feed the baby, missis.'
'That's not part of your job, you idle little slut. Get back to the kitchen and help Cook serve up the boiled haddock or it'll be the worse for you.' Queenie's scowl dissolved into an ingratiating smile as she glanced round the room. 'I hope everything is to your satisfaction, gentlemen and lady?'
'More soup,' roared Mr Wallace. 'I want more soup.'
Queenie clipped Annie round the ear. 'Serve Mr Wallace with more soup, and then go about your duties.' She turned to Eloise. 'And you, Mrs Cribb? I trust you are satisfied.'
'I am, thank you, but I have to say that the girl was just being helpful.'
Queenie's bright smile vanished. 'She isn't paid to be helpful to you; I pay her to do as I say.'
Later that evening, while Joss and Beth slept in the bed at her side, Eloise lay wide awake. She was exhausted, but her mind was racing round in circles and sleep eluded her. Harcourt had given her twenty pounds when she left Cribb's Hall. She had thought it was generous and that it would last her for several months at least, but it was dwindling much faster than she could have imagined possible. She knew that she would not be able to afford Queenie King's prices for very long, and that she would have to look for rooms in a cheaper establishment. She must find work, and she would need someone to mind the children. Eloise lay, looking up at a maze of cracks in the ceiling. Her life seemed like that maze and she was stuck in the middle unable to find the way out.
Chapter Eight
Next morning when she went into the dining parlour, Eloise came face to face with the rest of Queenie's lodgers. Apart from the two gentlemen who had been at supper, there were six more males of varying ages and differing occupations, judging by the way in which they were dressed. They mostly seemed to be commercial travellers or clerks, but there were two who were garbed in more practical attire, suggesting that they were involved in some kind of manual labour. Whatever their occupations, they had one thing in common, and that was the way in which they were applying themselves enthusiastically to their meal of bacon, eggs and a small mountain of toast. The room was filled with the sound of their jaws champing on their food and a certain amount of appreciative lip-smacking. They barely looked up as Eloise took her seat at the table. Apart from asking her to pass the toast or the butter, no one spoke to her and she concentrated on feeding the children. Annie brought in a plate of scrambled eggs especially for Joss and Beth, and when one of the men demanded the same she slapped him on the back of his hand and told him that this was food for the nippers and not for great hulking men who worked on the railways. The man subsided with a scowl and Eloise tried to ignore the black looks he was sending in their direction. She felt very uncomfortable and out of place in this male domain, but Joss was obviously fascinated by the variety of table manners exhibited, from the bird-like pecking of the prim office clerk in the shiny suit, whom Annie addressed as Mr Potter, to the rather disgusting slurping sounds made by a bald man with a shiny pate who did not seem to have any teeth in his head, and who dipped his bread in his tea and then sucked it noisily. Joss was staring openmouthed at the display, and Eloise was heartily glad when the meal was over and the men filed silently out of the room, leaving them alone with a pile of dirty crockery and cutlery.
