by Dilly Court
The mist cleared as they left the marsh, and the ride was smoother now that they had left the rutted track and were driving on metalled roads. After weeks in the depths of the country it seemed strange to be back in the hurly-burly of city life. Horse-drawn vehicles clogged the streets and people bustled about their daily business. Smoke belched from factory chimneys and the once familiar stench of chemicals, tar, varnish and fumes from the gasworks came as a shock after the clean air they had grown accustomed to breathe without coughing and choking. The soot-blackened buildings looked grim even in the golden September sunlight, and Effie could only be thankful that it was a fine day. Had it been raining or foggy she thought she might have turned tail and returned to Marsh House.
After several stops along the way to eat and allow Champion to rest it was early evening by the time they reached the tavern. The horse was showing signs of age. Effie did not know exactly how old he was, but she knew that he had been working the canals for many years. He had cast a shoe halfway and they had had to find a farrier to replace it, which had taken up even more time. There had been no sign of the fair when they passed through Bow Common, and Effie was not sure whether to be relieved or saddened. A part of her wanted to see Frank again. She wanted him to tell her that it was all a mistake and he had walked away from the arranged marriage. But she knew in her heart that Toby had told her the truth, and to meet Frank face to face would only open up old wounds. He was lost to her forever and there was nothing she could do about it.
The bar was crowded with workmen slaking their thirst after a long day’s toil in the factories. Ben was behind the bar and his face split into a wide grin when he saw Effie. He finished serving a customer and came round the corner of the bar to greet them.
‘Where’ve you been all this time?’ He slapped Tom on the back, ruffled Georgie’s blond curls and kissed Effie on the cheek. His smile faded. ‘That bloke Salter was looking for you. It’s a few weeks ago now and I couldn’t tell him what I didn’t know, but he’d been asking questions all round the pub.’
‘He found us,’ Tom said, puffing out his chest. ‘But he didn’t catch us. We was too smart for Salter and his missis.’
Ben regarded him with a frown. ‘Don’t you be too cocksure, young ’un. He was in here spouting off that you’d burnt the boat and taken a watch or something that was rightly his. He’s a nasty piece of work and out for trouble.’
‘We won’t be staying long,’ Effie said hastily. ‘Could you give us a bed for tonight, Ben? I can pay.’
He shook his head. ‘I’m sorry, love. We’re full up with commercial travellers, and even if we wasn’t, I don’t think the missis would appreciate me giving you a room. You know how it is.’
‘It was just a thought. We’ll find a lodging house somewhere round here.’ She glanced down at Georgie as he tugged at her hand.
‘Hungry, Mama.’
Ben’s taut features dissolved into a grin. ‘He’s coming on, Effie. He was just toddling when I last saw you. Now he can speak up for hisself.’ He lifted Georgie onto his shoulders. ‘You’re a fine fellow and we can’t let you go hungry. We’ll see what Betty has for you.’ He headed for the kitchen, beckoning to Effie and Tom. ‘Come on, you two. I won’t let you leave without a bite to eat, and Betty might know of a place you can stay until you find something more permanent.’
Betty’s face lit up when she saw Georgie. She stopped what she was doing and hurried forward with her arms outstretched. ‘Why, here’s my lovely boy. How you’ve grown, young Georgie.’ She took him from Ben and sat him down on the table. ‘You look as though a slice of cake would go down well, young man.’ She cut a wedge of chocolate cake and he bit into it with a beatific smile on his face.
‘I’ve got to get back to the bar,’ Ben said, glancing anxiously over his shoulder as if he expected to see his wife standing behind him. ‘I’ll leave them in your capable hands, Betty. Give them what they want to eat and no charge.’
‘I should think not, master,’ Betty said, pursing her lips. ‘After all the work Effie done for you in the past she deserves a free meal.’ She ruffled Tom’s hair. ‘I don’t know about this one, though. As I recall he weren’t the most reliable pot boy.’
‘I’ve changed,’ Tom said stoutly. ‘I’m a good worker now, ain’t I, Effie?’
‘When you want to be,’ she said, smiling. ‘But we can pay, Ben. I don’t want charity.’
‘Sit down and eat. Talk later.’ Betty took a pie from the oven and served two generous portions. ‘It’s beef and ale; the best in the house.’
Tom grabbed his plate and sat down, tucking in with relish. Effie was more eager to speak to Ben than she was hungry and she took him aside. ‘I need to find somewhere cheap to rent. I thought you might be able to help.’
‘I’ll do anything I can, but I’m sorry to see you in this plight, Effie. I heard that the old man died when the barge went up in flames.’
‘He was a sick man, although I think the Salters might have quickened his end.’
‘It’s a bad business, Effie. What will you do now?’
‘I need work and I want to make a home for us so that we don’t have to keep moving from place to place.’
Ben scratched his head. ‘Things ain’t easy. The railways have taken a lot of the trade from the canals and I don’t need any help in the bar.’
‘I wasn’t asking you for work. I know Mrs Hawkins wouldn’t put up with having us around, but I’ll do anything to earn a respectable living. At the moment the most important thing is to find somewhere to live.’
Betty pushed a plate towards Effie. ‘I shan’t tell you again, Effie Grey. Sit down and eat. You can put up at my place tonight, although you’ll have to share a bed with my three girls and young Tom can sleep with the boys.’
Tom looked up with a mischievous grin. ‘How about I share a bed with the girls and Effie can sort herself out?’
Betty cuffed him round the head. ‘That’s enough of that talk, young man. Any more like that and you’ll sleep in the cellar with the rats and mice.’
‘Ben.’ Maggie Hawkins entered the kitchen, arms akimbo, glaring at Effie. ‘I might have guessed you’d turn up again. What is she doing in my kitchen?’
‘They’re just passing through, my love,’ Ben said nervously.
‘And eating our vittles by the look of it. We’re not running a home for paupers.’
Effie put her hand in her pocket and took out a shilling, tossing it onto the table. ‘That should cover the cost of the meal, Mrs Hawkins. We’ll be gone as soon as we’ve eaten and we won’t trouble you again.’
‘No, really,’ Ben protested. ‘There’s no need for payment, Effie. I’m sure we can treat our old friends to a bit of supper without breaking the bank.’
‘You’d take the food from our infants’ mouths and feed it to the poor if I let you.’ Maggie gave Effie a look that would have curdled cream. ‘I expect you to be gone by the time I come back.’ She marched out of the kitchen with an impatient twitch of her thin shoulders.
‘She don’t mean half of what she says, Effie,’ Ben said apologetically. ‘She gets tired of a night after a long day looking after five little ones. I’d best get back to the bar.’
‘I’m sorry, Ben,’ Effie murmured. ‘I didn’t mean to cause trouble.’
He hesitated in the doorway. ‘It’s not your fault. I’d like to help but you can see how it is. If there’s anything I can do . . .’
Effie thought of Champion, the faithful animal who had worked tirelessly pulling the narrowboat in all weathers for so many years. She knew that she would not be able to keep him now, but he was getting towards the end of his working life and she could not bear to think of him going to the knacker’s yard. ‘There is something,’ she said tentatively. ‘Could you look after Champion for me? Just until I can find someone who will let him live out the rest of his days at pasture.’
‘Gladly. I could use a docile animal to pull the trap when Mrs Hawkins takes the nip
pers out to visit their granny. My horse is fine with me but he’s a bit temperamental when my wife takes the reins.’
‘Thank you, Ben. I’m in your debt,’ Effie said, blowing him a kiss as he hurried from the room.
‘I’m on his horse’s side,’ Tom muttered. ‘I’d bite the old hag if she took a whip to me.’
‘I brought up ten nippers,’ Betty said, ‘and I worked here until I was fit to drop, but I never spoke to my old man like that. He’d have taken his belt to me if I had.’
‘She’s a mean old crow,’ Tom said cheerily. ‘Can I have some more pie, please, Betty?’
Betty piled his plate with food. ‘You’ve paid for it, so you shall have it.’ She turned to Effie with a frown. ‘I know you’re worried, love, but you must eat something.’
Effie sank down on the chair, staring at the rapidly cooling meal. ‘I should never have come here, Betty. We could end up in the workhouse again if things go wrong.’
‘There, there, love. Don’t lose heart,’ Betty said hastily. ‘I’m sure it won’t come to that.’
Effie looked up, meeting Betty’s anxious gaze with a stubborn lift of her chin. ‘I’ll do anything to keep us from that dreadful place. I won’t let Salter see me beaten. I won’t give in.’
Chapter Seventeen
BETTY’S TINY TERRACED house in Phoebe Street overlooked the chemical works. The fumes from the factory had rotted the outside paint-work and eaten into the curtain material so that they hung in tatters at the windows. The whitewashed walls of the kitchen were yellowed by steam and grease from the range, and the ceiling was coated in a tarry mixture of tobacco smoke and soot. Betty’s husband, Fred, was employed in the factory as were their three elder sons, and they enjoyed a pipe of baccy after supper, sitting with their feet as close to the grate as they could get without setting the soles of their boots on fire.
Two of the daughters were in service and living away from home, and two of the three remaining sisters worked in the market gardens on Bow Common, bringing home little in the way of pay but a plentiful supply of vegetables deemed unfit for sale. The third daughter stayed at home to look after the two youngest boys who were not yet old enough to attend the board school. With most of the family in full-time employment, the Crooke family were comparatively well off. They had adequate food and clothing and none of the children went barefoot. Fred Crooke was a silent, stolid and dependable sort of man, who said very little but seemed amiable enough, and did not complain when his wife brought three strangers into their home.
Effie was grateful for their hospitality but she felt that she was imposing on the family’s good nature. As it was, the house seemed to be bursting at the seams, and the sleeping arrangements were cramped and uncomfortable. In the small back bedroom, the three sisters shared a double bed, with the two youngest boys sleeping top to toe in a truckle bed beneath the window. Effie and Georgie shared a straw palliasse on the floor, and Tom was relegated to the downstairs parlour where the older Crooke brothers laid their heads for the night. On their first morning in Phoebe Street Tom appeared tousled-headed and bleary-eyed at breakfast. He confided to Effie later that he had barely slept a wink, having been kept awake at first by the brothers smoking cigarettes and chatting about the events of the day, which excluded him entirely, and then, when they finally settled down for the night, two of them snored so loudly that it was like trying to sleep in a farmyard filled with pigs.
Later that morning Effie left Georgie playing happily with the youngest Crooke boys while she went out looking for a suitable place to rent. Tom went with her, studying advertisements in shop windows in the hope of finding work, but all the vacancies seemed to be for able-bodied men and there was nothing suitable for a boy of his age.
They scoured the streets of Bow all day but the premises they saw were either too expensive or too appalling even to consider. There were attics with leaking roofs housing poverty-stricken families and rats in equal proportions, or cellars stinking worse than sewers with ten or twenty people to a room. Effie and Tom were used to the confined conditions on the narrowboat and the caravan, but they found the way people lived in this part of the city was too dreadful to contemplate. They returned to Phoebe Street tired and dispirited.
Betty was sympathetic but unsurprised by their failure to find somewhere suitable to live. As to work, she shrugged her shoulders. There were many unemployed, especially amongst the very young and those advanced in years. Beggars on street corners and in shop doorways were a common sight and the soup kitchens did a roaring trade. She assured Effie that they were welcome to stay as long as necessary and were not putting the Crooke family out in the least. After a few days in the Crooke household Effie realised that Betty had been speaking the truth. The more the merrier was her favourite saying when the house was crammed to bursting point with friends and family. People seemed to gravitate to Betty and her stoical husband. There was always a fire burning and a kettle simmering on the range. Cups of tea and slices of Betty’s famous cake were dispensed with open-handed hospitality and no one was turned away from the door of number fifteen Phoebe Street.
The days turned into weeks and a balmy September gave way to a chilly October with rain and gales sweeping the streets almost clean, but not quite. Tom earned a little as a crossing sweeper and Effie did her best to help Betty in the house, although she spent most of the day tramping the streets in the hope of finding a home they could afford on the dwindling amount of money left in her purse.
Georgie’s second birthday came round all too quickly in late November and Betty baked him a chocolate cake. The Crooke children made paper hats from old newspapers and Effie bought him a warm jacket from a dolly shop. It was slightly too big but Betty said cheerfully that he would soon grow into it. The cuffs were a little frayed but Effie stitched them so neatly that the garment looked almost like new. Tom had spent some of his earnings on a tin monkey that climbed a pole when its strings were pulled. He had found it at the bottom of a box filled with junk in the pawnshop in Limehouse, and the other children eyed it enviously. After supper, which had to be taken in shifts as there was only room for six people to sit at the table at any one time and even then it was a bit of a squash, the women washed the pots and pans in the scullery and the men sat round the fire smoking their pipes and roll-up cigarettes.
‘That was a good meal, Betty love,’ Fred said, patting his stomach. ‘Boiled mutton is my favourite dinner.’
She smiled, dropping a kiss on his bald pate as she walked past his chair. ‘I know that, ducks. It was a bit of an extravagance, but it’s the nipper’s second birthday and we all deserve a treat.’
‘A pint of ale would go down nicely,’ Fred said, receiving a grunt of assent from his sons.
‘And I’d say you was welcome to go to the pub and down a couple,’ Betty said, shaking her head. ‘But we’re saving up for our Elsie’s wedding in January. We’ve got to send her off in style.’
This statement brought another murmur of agreement from the brothers and their father. Effie had been wiping Georgie’s sticky hands and face with a damp cloth during this conversation and she was struck again by a feeling of guilt. She paid her way, but she still felt beholden to the family who had taken her in, and there was still no sign of either work or a house they could afford to rent. It was then that an idea came to her in a flash of inspiration. She smiled to herself and she kissed Georgie’s rosy cheek as she set him down on the floor. She knew exactly how she would repay the Crookes’ kindness.
Next day she wrapped her shawl around her head and shoulders against the bitter wind blowing in from the east. She knew the streets well by now and she made her way across Bow Common Bridge to the market in Randall Street, where she found costermongers vying for position in front of the more fashionable lock-up shops in the covered marketplace. What might be bad for trade for the shopkeepers proved to be a boon to someone with only a little money to spare and Effie returned to Phoebe Street laden with parcels. With a project in mi
nd, she felt her spirits rise. Ignoring the inquisitive questions from Bella, the youngest Crooke girl, Effie went outside to the washhouse and filled the copper with water from the pump. She lit a fire and stood back to wait for the water to reach the correct heat, which Nellie had told her was when she could see her face reflected on the still surface as if she were looking into a mirror. She had been an apt pupil in the art of brewing and had taken Nellie’s teaching very much to heart. When she was satisfied that the time was right, she drew off the water and added malted barley, stirring vigorously. She had begun her first brew of ale since she left Marsh House and she hoped it would be ready in time for Christmas and the feast that she knew Betty was planning to give her family.
It was impossible to keep such a project secret. The smell of the malted barley alone was enough to have the Crooke men sniffing the air like hungry hounds. One by one they ventured into the washhouse, eager to find out what Effie was preparing that smelt so appetising. She had many hands willing to help her strain the liquid into a washtub, and they stood back watching with interest as she added sugar, yeast and dried hops. Everyone wanted a stir and things were getting a bit out of hand in the tiny outhouse with everyone talking at once. Effie was relieved when Fred opened the door and demanded to know what was going on. His craggy features broke into a delighted smile when she told him her plan and he shooed his family out into the yard.
‘Is it too soon to have a taste, Effie?’ he asked eagerly.
‘Much too soon, Mr Crooke, but it will be ready in time for Christmas.’
He patted her on the shoulder. ‘We’ll have the best time ever.’ He shuffled out of the steam-filled building and Effie found herself alone for once. She smiled, shaking her head. She loved the noisy, boisterous family who had made them feel that they belonged, but recently she had become aware that the eldest son, Harry, was paying far more attention to her than he did to his sisters. The girls had commented on it too, and although Effie liked Harry well enough there was nothing about him that made her pulses race or caused her heart to miss a beat when he came through the door. In short, she knew that their time in Phoebe Street must come to an end soon. She did not want to cause upset amongst the family that she had come to love and think of as her own, but it was now imperative to find somewhere else to live. She made up her mind to go out next day and accept the first dwelling that was reasonably habitable and also affordable.
