by Dilly Court
On the following Sunday, Eloise took the children to the Foundling Hospital gardens. After her last brush with the governor, it was the last place that she would have chosen, but she had promised to meet Annie there and she was not going to allow Mr Barton Caine to deflect her from her purpose. She sat on the grass while Joss and Beth played, and then, getting tired of sitting, Eloise took them for a walk along the gravelled paths between the beds of red, pink, white and yellow roses. Their scent was heady, but it did not disguise the stench coming from the fly-infested dung on the streets outside the gardens. After an hour, Eloise began to think that Annie was not coming. Perhaps Queenie had not given her the time off, or maybe she hadn't received her letter? The children were hot and thirsty and she bought them some ice cream from the hokey-pokey man, but by this time Eloise's head was beginning to ache. The sun bore down mercilessly and when the ice cream had gone Joss began to get crotchety. His mood seemed to rub off on normally sunny-natured Beth, who also began to snivel. Eloise decided then that Annie was definitely not coming and it was time to begin making their way back to Magpie Alley. She picked up Beth, who protested loudly, and she took Joss by the hand. They had just walked out of the gates when a shabbily dressed man barred their way. 'You are Mrs Eloise Cribb?' It was more a statement than a question.
Eloise held her breath. The man who confronted her simply had to be Pike. There was a touch of arrogance in his manner, and a sly look in his narrowed eyes that immediately put her on her guard, but she was not going to give him the satisfaction of seeing that she had guessed his identity. She met his gaze with a hard stare. 'Who are you, sir?'
'My name is Pike, missis. I think you know that well enough. You've led me a merry dance these past few weeks, but I'm on to you now.'
'I don't know what you're talking about, sir. Please allow me to pass.' Her heart was hammering against her rib cage and Eloise could hardly breathe, but she was not going to let this man intimidate her.
He planted his feet wide apart and leaned against the gatepost, pushing his face close to hers so that she was almost choked by the odour of bad breath mixed with stale sweat. 'I am ordered to take the boy back to his grandparents in Yorkshire. You will give him up to me without a fuss, or my client will go through legal channels and have the child made a ward of court.'
'You have the wrong person,' Eloise cried in desperation. 'I am not who you think I am. Allow me to pass, or I'll call a constable.'
'Oh, I don't think you'll do that, lady,' Pike sneered, thrusting his hand into his jacket pocket. He pulled out a tattered piece of paper and waved it under Eloise's nose. 'I knew you'd make a mistake one of these days, and that's just what you did when you sent this letter to the little skivvy in Nile Street. Mrs King intercepted it and passed it on to me.'
Eloise bit her lip. 'That is against the law.'
'I am the law, dearie, or a branch of it anyway.' Pike's wolfish smile was replaced by a snarl. 'Don't try to play games with me. I want the boy and I want him now.'
'You shan't have him. Leave us alone.' Eloise tried to push past him, but Pike barred her way.
'Run for it if you will, but I know now where you've been hiding. There's only two types of work in London where the dirt won't wash off the skin, and I don't think you've been working as a sweep's boy, so you must have been living close to a dust yard. Oh, yes, you was clever enough not to mention that detail to young Annie, but I'm paid to be observant. Even if you get away from me now, it won't take me long to find which yard you're at. You won't get the better of me, ducks, so you might as well hand the boy over now.'
'Never. You'll never take my son from me.' Eloise kicked him hard on the shin, catching him by surprise. Pike howled with pain and hopped on one leg, rubbing his bruised flesh. 'You bitch.'
Eloise didn't wait to hear the rest of her character assassination. Joss was crying from sheer fright and Beth was clinging round her neck. Eloise snatched Joss up under her arm and ran blindly along the pavement, neither knowing nor caring which way she was heading in her desperation to escape from Pike. She could hear him hurling abuse at her and the sound of his booted feet on the paving stones was getting closer all the time. Carrying both children slowed her down and she knew that Pike could outpace her. She looked round desperately for somewhere to hide; a narrow alley that she could dodge down or an open doorway where she could shelter, but there was nothing. As she rounded the corner into Guildford Street she cannoned headfirst into the arms of a tall man whose black frock coat and top hat were somehow familiar. Momentarily winded, she stared down at his highly polished black patent shoes as she fought to catch her breath.
'Good God, woman. What do you think you're doing? You could have hurt yourself and these infants.'
Gasping for air, Eloise looked up into the coldly handsome face of Barton Caine. 'I – I . . .'
Joss and Beth were howling with fright and their wails reached a crescendo as Pike came flying round the corner and skidded to a halt. When he saw that Eloise was not alone, his expression changed subtly and he tugged off his bowler hat. 'Excuse me, sir. Is this woman bothering you?'
Barton gave Pike a disdainful look. 'And who might you be? Why were you pursuing this young woman?'
'It's no matter,' Eloise said, backing away. 'It was a misunderstanding.'
'No you don't,' Pike snarled, reaching out to catch her by the arm. 'Not so fast, lady. You're coming with me.'
'It seems that the lady doesn't want to go with you,' Barton said icily. 'I suggest you go about your business, my good man.'
Pike bristled visibly, but he let go of Eloise's arm. 'It's a private matter, sir. A family argument you might say.'
'Then I suggest you continue your argument in private, but only after you've had time to calm down.' Caine turned his back on Pike to address Eloise in a stern voice. 'And you, madam, would do better to take your children home and leave your man to reflect on his duty as a husband.'
Eloise could not look him in the face. The utter humiliation of being taken for Pike's woman had momentarily cancelled out her fear, but now she saw her chance to escape and she took it. Without saying another word, she carried the screaming children down the street, leaving the governor of the Foundling Hospital to castigate Pike for his belligerent behaviour. When their raised voices faded into the distance she stopped to comfort the children, whose hysterical cries had quietened to dull sobs as they clung to her, soaking her blouse with their tears. Eloise found a quiet alley between shuttered business premises which led to a small court surrounded by warehouses. She sat down in the dust, rocking and cuddling the children until they were calm. Wiping their dirty faces on her sleeve, she kissed their tear-stained cheeks. 'There, there, my pets. It's all over now; we're safe from that nasty man.'
'Nasty man,' Joss murmured. 'Bad man.'
'Yes, darling,' Eloise agreed. 'A very bad man, but he won't find us again. Mama will see to that.' But even as the words left her mouth, she knew that she could not return to Magpie Alley. Although there were many dust yards in east London, she was certain it would not take Pike long to discover where she had been working, and that would inevitably lead him to the Tranters' cottage. The realisation that they were again homeless hit her with a sudden shock. They had only the clothes that they were wearing. Luckily she had brought her purse with her, but the rest of her possessions were in Magpie Alley and it would be madness to try to return there for a while. Gertie and Peg would no doubt be frantic with worry, but there was nothing she could do about that for the present.
Eloise fingered her purse and was reassured by the weight of the coins she had so carefully saved. Her main priority now must be to find cheap accommodation for the next few nights, or until she found a suitable living-in position. With a determined twitch of her shoulders, she set off again, keeping to the back streets. This was not a part of London that Eloise knew, but she was desperate to be far away from Clerkenwell and King's Cross and more especially from Pike's prying eyes. It was late afternoo
n, judging by the position of the sun in the sky, and the children were tired and hungry. With a few words of encouragement and the promise of something to eat soon she walked on, moderating her pace so that Joss could keep up with her, but she kept looking over her shoulder fearing that Pike might by some chance have followed them.
With no clear idea of where she was going, Eloise was relieved to see the familiar landmark of the British Museum, which she had once visited with her father. The sight of it brought back memories of a happy outing, but also a twinge of sadness as she remembered a life that had been so different and now seemed so far away. She realised that their dishevelled appearance was attracting curious glances from the well-dressed citizens of Bloomsbury who were out for a Sunday afternoon promenade, and she hastily moved on. Having reached New Oxford Street, she hesitated, uncertain which way to go. If she went east, she would be back in the area where Pike was probably still searching for them. There was no point in going towards the expensive West End, and north would lead her back towards King's Cross and imminent danger of discovery. She crossed the busy road, threading her way between hansom cabs, hackney carriages and horse-drawn omnibuses, and hurrying south she found herself in an area that was both foreign to her and frightening.
Even though it was Sunday, groups of slatternly, drunken old women stood about on street corners, smoking clay pipes and drinking out of stone bottles. Gangs of ragged children roamed the streets like packs of wild wolf cubs, looking no doubt for a pocket to pick or a purse to snatch. Avoiding a particularly ferocious looking band of youths, Eloise dodged into Hampshire Hog Yard, but a burly man wearing corduroy breeches and gaiters staggered towards her. He was obviously under the influence of alcohol or even opium, and she fled, dragging a protesting Joss behind her. Beth joined in with his miserable caterwauling and in desperation Eloise turned into a road that bore the reassuring name of Church Lane.
She could still hear the thunder of traffic from New Oxford Street, but Church Lane might have been another world. It was narrow and cobbled and presented an odd sight indeed. Eloise paused for a moment to catch her breath and to stare. Suspended from the windows of the three-storey terraced houses were wooden rods festooned with wet washing. The garments, which hung limply in the still air, were worn and shabby, some of them patched and others little more than rags and tatters. There were several shops, closed for the holy day, and a pub which, despite its being a holy day, was obviously doing a brisk trade. The doors were open and men hung about outside with pint pots in their hands and clay pipes stuck in their mouths. Groups of women stood outside their houses, enjoying the late afternoon sunshine that filtered through the gaps in the tall buildings, and barefoot children played in the road, the girls skipping or whippings tops and the boys play-fighting. Although the area was poor and run down, Eloise did not feel threatened when a tawdrily dressed young woman sauntered over to her. 'Are you looking for someone, love?'
Eloise was wary. The woman was obviously the sort that Ronnie would have scathingly referred to as a dollymop, but her smile seemed genuine enough, and surely it was wrong to judge a person because they dyed their hair and rouged their lips? Eloise shook her head. 'No, but we do need cheap lodgings. Do you know of anywhere near here? My little boy is too tired to walk much further.'
'Poor little sod,' the woman said, ruffling Joss's hair. 'He looks done in and so do you. I reckon I could find you a bed for the night. Old Mother Hilton keeps the cleanest kip-shop in the street. C'mon on, it's not far.' Without a by-your-leave, she bent down and lifted Joss off his feet. 'You be a good boy for Auntie Poll and stop that bawling. You're giving me a headache.'
Joss was obviously taken by surprise at this sudden turn of events and he stopped crying, but he sent a mute appeal for help to his mother as Poll carted him off down the road. Eloise hurried after them. 'Don't worry, Joss, I'm coming.'
Poll stopped outside a house at the far end of the street and she opened the door and went inside. Eloise followed her down a passage whose walls did not appear to have had a lick of paint since the day the house was built. There was no covering on the floorboards other than a sprinkling of white sand, but at least the premises seemed clean and the pervading smell was of carbolic soap. Poll carried Joss down a narrow staircase to the basement kitchen where a fire burned in the range and a large boiler on either side of it bubbled with hot water. A fat woman wearing a faded cotton-print frock and white mobcap sat by the range with her feet up on a stool.
'Mother Hilton, I found this woman and her nippers wandering the street. Any chance of a night's lodgings?'
'Let's see your money,' Mother Hilton said, eyeing Eloise suspiciously. 'I got a room if you've got the cash, but you'll have to share.'
Eloise put Beth down on the floor and she took a few tottering steps before going down on her hands and knees to crawl over to Joss, who had been set down on a stool by Poll and was sitting quite still, staring wide-eyed at the strange surroundings. Eloise flexed her stiff fingers and took out her purse. 'How much do you charge for one night?'
'One and four pence, take it or leave it. Food is extra.'
'That's a lot for a shared room,' Eloise protested.
'You'd pay three shillings in the City, and three times that in one of them posh hotels up West. This is a clean and respectable establishment.'
Poll snorted with laughter. 'Pull the other one, Mother. Your lodgers are magsmen, coiners and prostitutes.'
'Shut your trap, Poll. I don't care what trade or profession my clients follow, just so long as they don't cause no trouble and they pays up on the nail.' Mother Hilton heaved her large frame from the chair and she glared ominously at Joss and Beth. 'And I don't like nippers. They make a noise and they make a mess.'
'Perhaps I'd better go elsewhere,' Eloise said hastily.
Mother Hilton put her hands on her hips and mimicked Eloise's voice. 'Perhaps I'd better go elsewhere.' Her mocking smile darkened to a scowl. 'Perhaps you had, my lady. I dunno who or what you're running from, but I don't want no trouble from irate husbands or the law.'
'Oh, calm down, you old cow,' Poll said, snatching the purse from Eloise's fingers and shaking it so that the coins jingled. 'She can pay, so what's the fuss about?'
Two nights in advance then,' Mother Hilton said, holding out her hand. 'And two nights in advance after that, if you're still here.'
Eloise glanced down at her exhausted children huddled together on the stool, and she nodded her head. 'All right, two and eight it is, but I'll be looking for alternative accommodation.'
'I hear they're all booked up at the Hotel Cecil,' Mother Hilton said, chuckling. 'Show her where to go, Poll. I'm going to put me feet up afore the rest of them comes in demanding supper, which is one shilling extra.'
'Come on, love,' Poll said, heading for a door at the back of the kitchen. 'I'll show you your room. It ain't Buckingham Palace, but I'll say this for the old bitch, she keeps a clean house.'
With Beth in her arms and Joss toddling on behind Poll, Eloise followed wearily, forcing her tired limbs into motion. Poll led them through an area that seemed to be used purely as a storeroom, where sacks of potatoes, flour and dried peas were stacked along the walls together with cans of paraffin and boxes of candles. At the far end was another door and this led into a room about eleven feet square with a small window that looked out onto the area. It felt damp and the light was poor, but Eloise could just make out the shape of four lumpy mattresses lined up side by side. There was nothing else in the room, not even a table or a chair.
'This can't be right,' Eloise said in despair. 'I'm not paying one and four a night to sleep in a room like this, cheek by jowl with strangers.'
Poll folded her arms across her chest, shaking her head. 'Look, love. I can see that you ain't used to this sort of thing, but let me give you a word of advice. Take it! That's what I say. At least Mother Hilton's beds are reasonably clean. You won't find no bed bugs here and she ain't mean with the victuals. You could get similar in
any one of the lodging houses round Seven Dials, but you'd pay more and you never know who's sleeping in the next bed. At least I can tell you that only two of these cots is took, one by old Aggie who falls into a drunken stupor every night and don't wake up till noon, and the other by Ivy who was a maidservant in a big house until she fell pregnant by the butler and then she got thrown out on the street. She lost her baby but without a reference she can't go back into service and so she does the next best thing.'
Eloise laid Beth down on one of the mattresses. 'And what's that?'
'She's a woman of the town, like me.' Poll raised her eyebrows and chuckled. 'I see you don't understand me. Young Ivy is a prostitute.'
'Oh!' Eloise sank down onto the bed beside Beth and Joss. 'I see.'
'When it comes to it, love, there ain't many ways that women like us can earn enough to pay for their food and lodgings.'
'But there must be other things you could do.' Eloise stopped short and bit her lip. Poll had been kind and the last thing she wanted to do was upset her. She tried again. 'I mean, there's factory work and serving in shops.'
Poll chuckled. 'You have to speak proper and dress right to work in a shop. And as to factory work, well, there's phossy jaw for them what makes matches and lung rot for them that works in the flour mills, just to mention a couple of things that can kill you slow and painful like. To be honest, love, I'd rather do what I do and risk the pox or the occasional beating than waste me life working ten or twelve hours a day for nuppence and a nasty disease at the end of it.'
'But surely there must be honest work a woman can do?' Eloise said desperately. 'I'll be straight with you, Poll. I have to support my children and I must find work.'
Poll took a baccy pouch and a box of matches from her skirt pocket. She proceeded to roll a cigarette, staring thoughtfully at Eloise and the children. 'I'm sorry, ducks, but you got no chance, at least not with them two nippers in tow. Ain't you got no one who would take them in?'
