Potato Factory

by Bryce Courtenay

  Hannah sighed and reluctantly took the blanket from around her and handed it to the urchin who grabbed it gratefully, wrapping his diminutive body into its warmth. Hannah wore a thick red woollen nightdress which reached down to her ankles which, in turn, were encased in bedsocks and a pair of fleece-lined slippers. Warmed by a second sip of the brandy, she rose and went to the kindling box and laid a fire in the hearth, adding a few lumps of coal to the twigs before lighting it.

  ‘Can I ‘ave some more, missus?’ Sparrer held out the pewter mug.

  The tiny boy had consumed a good half inch of brandy which, apart from having restored his voice and stopped his shivering, appeared to have had no measurable effect on him. ‘Got yer tongue back ‘as ya, boy? Sorry, no more, not ‘til after you’ve said what ya come for. What’s yer name?’

  ‘Sparrer, missus, Sparrer Fart, but they jus’ calls me Sparrer.’ He put the mug down on the table, licking the brandy taste from his lips. ‘I’m ‘ungry, missus, I ain’t et since yesterday mornin’.’

  Hannah sighed. She was growing impatient. ‘What ya think this is, a bleedin’ chop ‘ouse? I ain’t givin’ you nuffink to eat until ya tells me what ya come for!’ She pointed to the hat on the table. ‘Ya can start with that!’

  ‘It be Ikey’s. Ikey Solomon! Honest, missus, I wouldn’t tell you a lie!’

  ‘I know that, but where’d you get it, boy?’

  Sparrer, sensing Hannah’s anxiety for an answer, looked suddenly forlorn. ‘I’m ‘ungry, missus, real ‘ungry I is.’

  Hannah realised she’d get no more from the urchin until she’d fed him, so she fetched a plate of cold salt beef from the cupboard and cut two large hunks from a loaf of yesterday’s bread. Then she filled a bowl with curds and placed the offering in front of the small boy, who immediately began to devour the food.

  In between mouthfuls Hannah got the story from Sparrer. Hannah listened as he told her how, a day or two back, he’d attempted to lift a kerchief from Bob Marley’s pocket in the Hare and Hounds. How Marley had caught him at it and after boxing his ears for being clumsy had found that Sparrer was one of Ikey’s brats.

  ‘Maybe I could use ya, ‘e says. ‘Ow good are ya as a tooler, boy? I just caught ya, that ain’t a good sign. I’ll give ya a test, fail and ya gets yer arse kicked!’ Sparrer cleverly mimicked Bob Marley’s voice.

  Bob Marley had watched as Sparrer demonstrated his skill on several of the patrons of the house, returning with a cheap watch, two snot rags and no value except as a demonstration of Sparrer’s light fingers and a fob chain, also of little value, as it was made of brass. Marley had been sufficiently impressed to recruit Sparrer for what the urchin, imitating Bob Marley again, described as, ‘A little job what may or may not ‘appen, but is the very opposite to what you ‘as been trained to do.’ He had not said anything more except to instruct Sparrer to check into the Hare and Hounds late every afternoon to see if Marley had left a message for him.

  ‘Then Ikey comes back. One moment ‘e’s not nowhere and the next there ‘e is standing in the Academy in front o’ all the lads. Then ‘e says ‘e wants us to find Bob Marley.’ Sparrer stopped and thought for a moment. ‘No ‘e don’t, first ‘e starts puckering ‘bout cribbage, ‘ow we mustn’t ‘andle flats in the dark. Then ‘e asks us to find this cove Bob Marley. Ikey says to us there’s a sov for ‘im what finds this cove, and a shilling and a tightener for all what goes lookin’. ‘Cept he says Bob Marley will be in the Haymarket when I knows perfectly well that’s where ‘e ain’t!’ Sparrer, feeling very pleased with himself, looked up at Hannah.

  ‘So they all scarpers, pushin’ and shovin’ to get down the stairway first so it nearly come down!’

  ‘Yes, yes, go on,’ Hannah said impatiently.

  ‘So I goes back to where I seen me friend, Mr Marley, a couple o’ hours before. To me surprise, ‘e were still there an’ all! I taps ‘im on the back. Mr Marley, I says, Ikey Solomon asks for the pleasure of yer company.’

  Sparrer laughed. ‘ “‘Ow’d you know I was lookin’ for him?” Mr Marley says.’ Sparrer looked pleased with himself. ‘I didn’t know ‘e was lookin’ for Ikey, but I ain’t gonna tell ‘im that, am I? I stays stum, don’t I?’ Sparrer paused and Hannah nodded her approval. ‘ “Ikey, what’s picture is on all the posters, ya means ‘im?” Mr Marley asks again. I nods, the very same person, ‘e’s our kidsman. “Blimey!” ‘e says. “Miracles will never cease!” ‘

  Sparrer could see Hannah was intrigued. ‘Mind if I ‘as another drop o’ brandy, missus?’

  ‘No more mecks, ya ain’t no use to me drunk!’ Hannah said, her lips tight.

  Sparrer picked up the mug and looked into it disappointed, but then continued to talk. ‘ “Want to make ‘arf a sov, Sparrer?” Mister Marley asks me. “Nacherly,” I says. “Righto, Mister Sparrer Fart, let’s see ‘ow good a tooler ya is!” An’ ‘e ‘olds up these two five pound notes.’

  ‘Two?’ Hannah interjected. ‘Two five pound notes?’

  ‘Yeah, that’s right, then ‘e give me instructions like, he says, “When we goes back and meets wif Ikey Solomon I wants you to plant these on ‘im, Sparrer.” Now I finks to meself, queer, even queerer than queer, all me life I ‘as been practising to lift stuff, now this cove wants me to plant perfectly good soft on Ikey Solomon, the same person what’s done all me trainin’ in toolin’. It don’t make no sense if ya asks me.’

  Hannah was breathing fast. ‘Well? Did ya do it?’

  Sparrer, grown more loquacious with the brandy and enjoying his own story, continued without replying. ‘ “I’ll try, Mr Marley, sir,” I says. ‘E grabs me by me coat. “No! Just don’t fail! If it don’t look like ya can do it, don’t take no chances, ya hear me boy?” ‘ Sparrer’s imitation of Bob Marley was near perfect. ‘ ’E ‘ands me ‘arf a sov. “Money in advance, win or lose, do it right or not at all! Ya understand?” ‘ Sparrer straightened up in his chair and unconsciously stuck out his chest. ‘Blimey, missus, ‘e’s paid me before I done the job. Win or lose I wins! “I’ll do me best,” I says. “Seein’ ‘ow you trusts me an’ all.” ‘

  Hannah grabbed the mug out of Sparrer’s hand and banged it down onto the table. ‘For Gawd sakes stop muckin’ about, did ya or didn’t ya?’

  Sparrer jumped and pulled his head back instinctively, expecting to be hit. ‘What did I do?’ he exclaimed in alarm.

  Hannah felt suddenly foolish but, unable to explain her agitation, attacked further. ‘Yer lyin’!’ she shouted, trying to recover her composure. ‘Ain’t nobody could plant nuffink on Ikey Solomon. Leastways, no tooler what’s just a brat!’

  Sparrer rose to the bait. ‘I did so! It were easy, missus!’

  Hannah laughed. ‘Easy was it? You think Ikey is some moocher what’s just come in town from Shropshire?’

  Sparrer explained how Ikey had tried to welsh on the sovereign he’d promised, offering him half a sovereign instead. Hannah nodded. This part was familiar enough.

  ‘So I starts to blub, see. “It ain’t fair!” I says and goes up and ‘angs onto Ikey’s coat, cos I seen this tear in the front what ‘asn’t been mended yet, so I keeps blubbin’ and pluckin’ on ‘is coat which he thinks is me beggin’ for the other ‘arf sov what he owes me. So I tucks the soft what Mr Marley give me inside the tear and right-away it falls down into the lining.’ Sparrer grinned. ‘It were easy as pie!’

  ‘So, tell me,’ Hannah asked, ‘Bob Marley gets ya to plant the soft on Ikey’s person, real money what’s valuable. Why would ‘e do that? It don’t make no sense now do it?’

  Sparrer scratched his head. ‘Buggered if I knows, missus.’ He thought for a moment. ‘Maybe it were a trick an’ all. A joke or summink.’

  Hannah said nothing until the boy grew uncomfortable under her steady gaze. Sparrer looked up and shrugged. ‘I don’t know why ‘e done it, missus,’ he said, ashamed that he could come up with no adequate explanation.

  Hannah began, her voice soft at first, then building in
volume, ‘Let me tell ya summink for nuffink, Mr Sparrer Fart!’ She pointed at the hat on the table. ‘I think ya found Ikey’s ‘at, I dunno ‘ow and I dunno where.’ She reached over and picked up the hat. ‘Look! It’s got dust on it, ‘ere look, on the brim, where it’s been lyin’ somewhere what’s dusty! Ya found Ikey’s ‘at and ya thinks, “‘Ullo, ‘ullo, this be worth summink”, so ya comes round ‘ere and makes up some cock ‘n’ bull story about fivers what ya planted on me ‘usband’s person, stories what is ridiculous and stupid even for a brat the likes of you!’ Hannah’s voice rose even higher.

  ‘I don’t think you’ve seen Ikey Solomon. I think you’ve only seen ‘is ‘at!’

  ‘It ain’t true! It ain’t true what ya says, missus! I knows where Ikey is, where ‘e be ‘iding. I can show ya!’ Sparrer protested.

  ‘I suppose Bob Marley showed ya?’ Hannah sneered.

  ‘No! I followed them two. When they left the Academy last night. I followed them to the Isle! It were snowing, they didn’t see me.’

  ‘The Isle?’

  ‘Jacob’s Isle, Ikey’s got a deadlurk there.’

  ‘Ha! Jacob’s Island! Fat chance! That be docks and ‘ouses what’s mostly condemned!’

  ‘C’mon, then, I’ll show ya, missus!’ Sparrer challenged, caught up in the argument and forgetting that his purpose for coming was to try for a couple of sovs in exchange for Ikey’s whereabouts.

  Hannah’s expression changed suddenly and she smiled disarmingly then gave Sparrer a supplicating look. ‘Please, Sparrer, don’t fool with me poor broken ‘eart. I loves me ‘usband. I know ‘e ain’t much, but I loves ‘im. If ya knows where Ikey is, I must go to ‘im, ‘e needs me.’ She leaned forward and took Sparrer’s dirty little hand in both her own. ‘Look at me, a poor woman what’s ‘usband is in mortal danger. Please Sparrer, if ya ‘as any loyalty to Ikey what’s taught ya all ya knows, you’ll let ‘is poor, miserable wife visit ‘im.’

  Hannah’s change of mood quite took Sparrer by surprise. The fact that she appeared suddenly to believe him, combined with the feel of his hand cradled in the warmth of her own, caused his eyes to fill with tears of relief.

  ‘I can show ya, missus, the exact place,’ he said.

  Hannah went to the cupboard and returned with the plate of salt beef and what remained of the bread. She placed a knife beside Sparrer. ‘ ’Elp y’self, love, I won’t be long.’ She took the bottle of brandy and locked it in the cupboard, replacing the key around her neck and tucking it into the bodice of her nightdress. Then she took Ikey’s hat. ‘I’ll be back in two shakes of a duck’s tail. Be me guest, make y’self completely at ‘ome.’

  By the time Hannah had dressed for the street and returned to the kitchen, Sparrer was asleep, his arms on the table with his head cradled within them. It took a considerable amount of prodding and shaking to wake him. Hannah was anxious to be away before the early morning market crowd began to fill the streets. At last she got the urchin to his feet and escorted him to the front door.

  ‘Ya go first, Sparrer, to the Pig ‘n Spit and wait for me outside. I’ll be along shortly in a hackney. We’ll ride most o’ the way, then, when we gets near the Isle, we’ll walk.’ Hannah gripped Sparrer’s shoulder at the door. ‘Be sure ya isn’t followed, pigs in any number could be watchin’ the ‘ouse.’

  Sparrer, after running most of the way to keep warm, had not long been waiting at the Pig ‘n Spit when Hannah called to him from the interior of the hackney. The driver slowed down and Sparrer jumped into the small cabin and sat beside Hannah.

  ‘When we gets close, but not too close, give me a nudge and we’ll get out and walk. ‘Ere, sit up close to me so I feels ya,’ Hannah whispered. Sparrer moved up against Hannah’s heavy woollen coat. Warmth and comfort seemed to emanate from her plump person. It stirred long forgotten memories in the child so that the tears began to run down his dirty cheeks and he became momentarily lost in the past. Consequently they found themselves closer to Ikey’s deadlurk than was perhaps prudent before Sparrer finally nudged Hannah.

  They walked onto the Isle and Sparrer led Hannah by a circuitous route to an area where the houses seemed deserted and were so closely packed that they appeared to be leaning on each other for support. They walked down an alley, wide enough to take a wagon, which was strewn with debris and foul with mud and evil-smelling puddles some of which appeared to carry a thin veneer of ice. Hannah had cause to lift her skirt and, despite the care she took, her boots sank into the stinking ooze, often almost to their tops. Sparrer, who walked ahead, came to the end of the alley and put his hand up to signal Hannah to stop. Then he called her forward with a flick of his fingers, indicating that she should move slowly and without making a sound. Hannah came towards him more carefully than ever, though the squelch and sucking of the mud, and crunching of thin ice under her feet seemed to be announcing her every step.

  When she reached the far end of the alley Hannah discovered that it led to a small loading yard in the form of a quadrangle. It appeared to have once been paved with flagstones, though most of these had been removed and were piled high into one corner and partly covered with snow. The building which occupied three sides of the quadrangle had once been a fairly large warehouse backing on to the river. The warehouse seemed to have been deserted for a long time and its few windows and the main doors, big enough to take a horse and cart, were boarded up. The urchin put his finger to his lips and pointed to the pile of snow-covered flagstones.

  ‘Entrance be there, missus,’ Sparrer whispered. ‘Be’ind them stones.’

  Hannah’s heart pounded furiously. She stood a few feet back from the entrance and deep within the shadows so that she could not possibly be seen, but she nevertheless imagined she could feel Ikey’s eyes boring into her from a gap between two planks which boarded up the hoist door, set high up into the roof of the three-storey stone building. Hannah could sense Ikey crouching on his knees, wild strands of greasy hair flying from the sides of his head, his shiny bald pate vulnerable for want of the security afforded by his broad-brimmed hat. She could almost feel his eyes glued to the gap between the boards, willing her to come to him, though too fearful to call out lest her presence be some sort of trap.

  She waited until she felt her breathing grow calmer then placed her hand on Sparrer’s shoulder and gave it a tiny squeeze. Sparrer turned his head and looked up at her.

  ‘Come!’ she whispered and, turning about, began to retreat down the muddy alley. She walked ahead of Sparrer until they were well clear of the buildings. Not a soul had appeared in all the while they had been in the vicinity of the derelict row of houses. The part of the island they were on seemed to be totally desolate and their footsteps showed clearly in the snow, but it had begun to snow lightly again and they would soon be concealed. A low pewter-coloured sky added to the sense of isolation and misery of the broken-down surroundings. Hannah let out a discernible sigh of relief once she considered they had retreated sufficiently far from the deserted houses to communicate.

  ‘Ya sure that be it, Sparrer? Gawd’s truth, that old ware’ouse be Ikey’s deadlurk?’

  Sparrer looked hurt. ‘Yes, missus, ‘course I is. I knows these parts like the back o’ me ‘and. Before I growed up, Jacob’s be where I come from.’

  Hannah walked with Sparrer to the small causeway connecting Jacob’s Island to the city side of the Thames. Here she opened her purse and took out two single pound notes and held them up in front of Sparrer.

  ‘Ya never seen me, ever, ya understand? If ya tells a single livin’ soul about Ikey’s deadlurk I’ll tell Bob Marley ya followed ‘im and ‘e’ll come after ya with ‘is razor and cut yer bleedin’ throat from ear to ear!’ Hannah ran a mittened hand across her throat for emphasis. ‘You ‘as never seen me, we’s never met, ya understand, Sparrer?’ Sparrer nodded, his eyes fixed on the money she held in her hand. ‘Good!’ She handed him the one pound notes. ‘ ’Ere, for yer trouble. Now disappear, scarper, I never seen ya, whoever yo
u are.’

  Sparrer placed one of the pound notes between his lips which were beginning to tremble from the cold again, then using both hands, he held either end of the second note and brought his fists together then snapped them suddenly apart pulling the banknote taut to test its strength. Satisfied as to the quality of the bank paper he held the note up to the sky to examine the Bank of England watermark. He seemed pleased with what he saw, but opened his mouth, the remaining note sticking to his bottom lip as he wet his fingers with spittle and rubbed the watermark on the note with his wet fingers to see if it would disappear. Sparrer then tried to remove the remaining note from his bottom lip, but it had frosted to the skin and he pulled gingerly until it finally came away, leaving a bright smear of blood where the paper had removed the skin. He folded both notes together and pushed them somewhere deep within the interior of his tattered coat.

  Then, his breath making smoke in the cold air, Sparrer scanned the desolate surroundings at some length, then brought his gaze back to Hannah’s face, his eyes showing no recognition.

  ‘I must ‘o been dreamin’,’ he declared in an exaggerated voice, ‘ ’cause I could o’ sweared there was a woman standing right ‘ere in front o’ me not a moment ago!’ He turned and began walking away from Hannah, not once looking back.

  Hannah crossed the causeway and stopped at a hoarding where a man was busy pasting up a poster for Madame Tussaud’s Travelling Waxworks. She purchased a handful of torn poster paper for a halfpenny and, seated on a low stone wall, she commenced to clean her muddy boots. Soon thereafter she hailed a hackney. ‘Take me to Threadneedle Street, Bank o’ England,’ she instructed the driver.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Ikey was arrested by the City police in the early afternoon of the day Hannah visited Jacob’s Island with Sparrer Fart. He was taken to Lambeth Street Police Office and bound over. After a thorough search of the inner parts of his body and clothes the two counterfeit five pound notes were discovered in the lining of his overcoat. Thereafter he was taken to Newgate, where he was lodged in a single cell reserved for prisoners thought to be dangerous.