A Mother's Wish

by Dilly Court

  Large snowflakes tumbled like goosedown from a solid mat of grey clouds as Effie and Tom trudged along Bow Common Lane. It was mid-afternoon but soon it would be dark and the snow was settling on the rooftops and pavements in a thick white blanket. The streets had never looked so clean, but Effie knew that would all change in minutes, and the snow would turn to blackened slush when the men poured out of the factories and the gas works. Smoke and steam belched out in equal amounts, curling up to be absorbed in the clouds and turned into icy flakes that were sent fluttering back to earth like scraps of freezing lace.

  ‘Let’s go home,’ Tom muttered through the folds of his muffler. ‘My boots leak and my feet are blooming freezing.’

  Effie nodded her head. The air was so cold that it hurt to breathe and snowflakes clung to her eyelashes making it difficult to see. ‘I don’t think we can do any more today. The last place we saw was a midden. I wouldn’t put a pig in a place like that.’

  Tom shot her a sideways glance. ‘It ain’t so bad living in Phoebe Street. At least we get fed properly and old Fred’s a decent enough chap. If I can put up with Harry ribbing me all the time, I don’t see why you can’t encourage him a bit. It’s obvious he’s sweet on you.’

  ‘I know, but I don’t feel the same way about him. It’s going to upset Betty if she thinks I’ve been encouraging her son, especially when I haven’t done a thing to make him like me.’

  ‘You don’t have to, Effie. The blokes take one look at you and they’re smitten. I wish I had that effect on girls.’

  ‘You’re too young to think about things like that,’ Effie said, chuckling in spite of the bitter cold and the fact that she had lost all feeling in her fingers and toes. ‘Fred will come after you with a cudgel if you make eyes at young Agnes. I know you fancy her so don’t deny it.’

  ‘I like her a lot and she’s going to get me a job in the market garden when they start hiring again, only there’s nothing doing until they start planting in the spring.’

  Effie stopped, holding her side as a painful stitch made her gasp with pain. ‘Wait a moment, Tom. I need to catch my breath.’

  ‘The snow is getting thicker by the minute,’ he said, drawing her into the comparative shelter of a doorway. ‘At least we haven’t got far to go now.’

  ‘I just need a moment,’ Effie said breathlessly.

  ‘I’m starving. I wonder what Betty’s got for our supper tonight.’ Tom leaned his shoulders against the door, but it opened suddenly pitching him backwards into a narrow hallway.

  ‘Are you all right, Tom?’ Effie peered into the darkness, but all she could see were Tom’s legs thrashing about as he scrambled to his feet.

  ‘Bloody hell. I wasn’t expecting that.’

  ‘The door wasn’t shut properly,’ Effie said, too shaken to upbraid him for swearing. ‘Are you hurt?’

  ‘Only me pride.’ Tom rubbed his backside with a rueful grin. ‘This place stinks.’

  ‘And we’re trespassing,’ Effie said, tugging at his arm. ‘Let’s go before someone catches us.’

  He pulled away from her. ‘If they couldn’t be bothered to lock up, they can’t be too worried about their property. I’m going to have a nose around.’

  ‘No, Tom. You can’t,’ Effie protested, but too late. Tom had disappeared down the dark passage into the bowels of the house. She hesitated, wrinkling her nose. The smell was nauseating and being next door to the gas works did not improve things. The stench of coal gas together with other noxious odours was suffocating. When Tom ignored her cries, she ventured a little further into the house. She found him in the front room. ‘Tom, come away. This isn’t right.’

  He was standing in the middle of the floor staring at the chaotic jumble of old furniture, empty bottles and tin cans, yellowed newspapers and bundles of rags. Cold white light filtered in through the grimy windowpanes and cinders tumbled out of the grate, filling the hearth with ash. ‘It looks as though tramps have been living here,’ Tom said slowly. ‘I don’t think it can belong to anyone in particular or they wouldn’t have let it get into this state.’

  Effie jumped as a piece of plaster fell from the ceiling, narrowly missing her head. ‘Someone owns it. Every square inch of London belongs to someone.’

  ‘I’m going to have a look round.’

  She opened her mouth to protest but he had gone and the door swung drunkenly on a broken hinge. Effie hurried after him. She did not want to be left alone in such a place. It felt eerie, as though somebody had died in that room and might come back to haunt them at any moment. She felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end. ‘Tom, come back.’

  She heard him clattering about in the back room which turned out to be a kitchen of sorts with a rusty old range and a door leading into a back yard that looked out over the snow-covered expanse of Bow Common. Memories of the fair came flooding back as Effie stood in the doorway. It had been summer then, only six months ago but it seemed like a lifetime. She felt a shaft of pain cut through her as she recalled the first time she had seen Frank. He had looked so handsome and carefree with his tanned complexion and open countenance. It had been easy to believe him when he said he loved her, but she had to accept that it was all over now and fading into memory as if it had been a dream.

  ‘Look, Effie,’ Tom shouted, stamping about in the snow. ‘It’s got a pump and a privy. It only needs a bit of elbow grease and it would make a fine home. I think it could be ours if we find out who owns it and offer them a decent rent. They might pay us to live here and tidy it up. What d’you think?’

  Dazedly, Effie shook her head. ‘You’re mad. It’s beyond repair. I expect the floors upstairs are rotten and the ceiling will fall in at any moment.’

  Tom pushed past her, stamping the snow off his boots as he entered the kitchen. ‘I’m going upstairs. You stay down here and if I fall through the floor you can pick me up.’

  ‘No, don’t go up there. Someone might be asleep in one of the rooms. You could be attacked by the lunatic who lives here.’

  ‘Poppycock,’ Tom snorted. ‘I’m not afraid.’ He bounded out through the door and his footsteps reverberated throughout the house as he took the stairs two at a time.

  Effie went to the foot of the stairs, waiting anxiously. ‘Tom, can you hear me? Is everything all right?’

  He leaned over the banisters. ‘Come up and see. There’s no one here, and judging by the cobwebs it’s been empty for years. Come on up, Effie. It’s fine.’

  Against her better judgement, Effie allowed curiosity to win and she climbed the stairs, pulling a face as her boots crunched the carapaces of dead cockroaches and spiders’ webs caught in her hair.

  ‘Come into the back bedroom,’ Tom called excitedly. ‘It looks out over the common. It’s like being back in the country.’

  She crossed the narrow landing and found herself in a small room festooned with cobwebs and smelling strongly of mice. Tom had his back to her as he stared out of the window. He turned his head at the sound of her footsteps and even in the dim light she could see that he was smiling. ‘Take a look for yourself, Effie. This is the place for us. The market garden is on the other side of the common and it would be just the thing if I could get a job there. You’d be able to stay at home and look after Georgie and we’ll be a proper family again. Never mind Toby Tapper. We don’t need him. I can take care of you both.’

  Effie heard the wistful note in her brother’s voice and it cut her to the quick. Until now she had not given a thought to how Tom might have felt when Toby failed to return. She had never considered that he might be genuinely fond of the gypsy horse trader who came and went as he pleased. She experienced a rush of anger towards Toby that shocked her with its intensity, and she moved swiftly to Tom’s side, slipping her arm around his thin shoulders. ‘We are a family, Tom. You and me and Georgie, but Toby will turn up one day. He always does.’

  Tom’s downcast expression melted into a smile. ‘And this is just the place he might come to. When t
he fair comes back, Toby will be out there selling his old nags. Come the spring we’ll see him again, I know we will.’

  Effie gave him a hug. ‘Of course we will. Let’s go take a look at the front room. If we’re going to rent this old wreck of a house I need to see where I’m to sleep.’

  ‘I’ll make it nice for you,’ Tom said, bounding on ahead of her like an eager puppy. ‘There’s a bed in here, Effie,’ he shouted gleefully. ‘And it ain’t half bad. A new feather mattress and you’ll be sleeping like the queen.’

  Effie examined the room with a critical eye. The ceiling plaster was cracked and the wallpaper was peeling off, but it was a reasonable size and there was enough room for a truckle bed for Georgie in spite of the iron bedstead that took up half the floor space.

  ‘It will clean up a treat,’ Tom said enthusiastically. ‘We could get Betty’s girls to help.’

  His eagerness made Effie smile. ‘I’m sure Agnes would do anything you asked her to.’

  Tom’s cheeks flushed scarlet. ‘We’re just friends.’

  Effie gave him a hug. ‘Of course you are. Let’s go before someone walks in and tells us that it’s all a dream and they want us out of their house.’

  ‘It won’t happen like that. I’ve got a good feeling about this place, Effie. It was meant to be, that’s what Nellie would have said.’

  So many people and so many different places in such a short time; the memories crowded into Effie’s head as they tramped home through the deepening snow. The faces of Nellie, Seymour Westlake and old Jeffries flitted through her mind together with Zilla and Leah, Arnoldo and Ethel, Laila and Dr Destiny, and Frank, of course, but the one person who linked them all was Toby. Effie struggled with her feelings as the snow blinded her and the cold air felt like ice in her lungs. Whenever there had been trouble in the past, Toby had seemed to appear like the genie from the lamp in the story of Aladdin. She clutched her shawl around her, bending her head against the bitter wind, and she smiled to herself as she pictured Seymour in his exotic room rubbing one of the brass oil lamps to conjure up the son he refused to acknowledge. She felt a tug somewhere deep inside her at business left only half done. She wished that she could have united father and son as each one seemed in equal need of the other.

  ‘Come on, Effie. Best foot forward,’ Tom bellowed in her ear. ‘I want my supper, and I can’t wait to tell everyone we’ve found our new home.’

  ‘That’ll be Albert Place,’ Fred said, taking his pipe from his mouth. ‘Next to the gas works.’

  Betty stopped ladling stew into bowls for a moment. ‘It’s been empty for years.’

  ‘I know who owned it,’ Agnes said importantly. ‘It was a mad old man who worked in the market garden. They say he died there and no one found him for days. It weren’t until the flies was thick over the windows and round the door that the police ventured inside. They found his rotted corpse sitting in the chair with a month-old newspaper still clutched in his hands.’

  Bella let out a muffled scream and Betty brandished the soup ladle at her daughter. ‘That’s enough of that talk, Agnes Crooke. You’re old enough to know better than to scare the young ’uns.’

  Agnes shot a sideways glance at Tom and they dissolved into a fit of giggles.

  ‘He weren’t mad,’ Fred said, relighting his pipe with a spill from the fire. ‘He was old and lonely, young Agnes, and I’ll thank you not to spread tales like that.’

  ‘Sorry, Pa.’ Agnes hung her head, receiving a sympathetic pat on the shoulder from Tom.

  ‘Do you know if it’s up for rent, Mr Crooke?’ Effie asked, trying not to sound too eager although her heart was beating fast in anticipation of his answer.

  ‘I believe the terrace is owned by some bigwig up West. They don’t notice when the rent isn’t paid. I daresay it wouldn’t keep the toffs in cigars for a day.’ Fred stopped to puff at his pipe while the family waited patiently for him to finish his pronouncement. ‘Anyway,’ he said after a moment’s reflection. ‘the whole terrace is due to be torn down some time in the future, so they probably don’t think it’s worth letting the place.’

  ‘It’s been used by tramps and dossers for the past year,’ Betty said, shaking her head. ‘It’ll be in a terrible state.’ She angled her head, giving Effie a searching look. ‘But if your heart’s set on it, my girl, then we’ll see what can be done. You need a place of your own.’

  Having spent a rumbustious Christmas in Phoebe Street enlivened by the consumption of Effie’s home-brewed ale, the entire Crooke family helped Effie and Tom move into their new home. It had been scrubbed from top to bottom and Harry had patched up the fallen plaster while his brothers sanded down the paintwork and applied a fresh coat. Agnes and her sisters scrubbed floors and washed windows while Betty attacked the rusty range with a wire brush and grim determination to get it going as soon as possible. Betty could not work without her cup of strong, sweet tea and it was important to have some form of heating in the house as the temperature outside was still below freezing and the snow showers continued to fall.

  On Boxing Day, the Crookes marched in procession from Phoebe Street to Albert Place, each one bringing something that would help Effie set up home. Fred and Harry hefted a deal table that had been purchased from a second-hand furniture dealer in Limehouse for seven and six, and that included three ill-matched kitchen chairs which were slung over the older boys’ backs. The girls brought pots and pans that Betty had unearthed from a forgotten cupboard in the pub, and had been donated willingly by Ben, and the smaller children were the bearers of rush baskets filled with necessary provisions.

  That evening, when they were finally alone in their new home, Effie and Tom sat on either side of the range toasting their bare toes in front of the fire. Georgie was asleep upstairs on the truckle bed also found in the second-hand shop, and a flock mattress donated by Betty together with some blankets and a pillow.

  ‘This is the life,’ Tom said happily. ‘I never thought we’d have a proper house all to ourselves.’

  ‘You don’t remember the home we had before we went into the workhouse, but it was just like this. We were a happy family until that awful day.’

  ‘I’m glad I don’t remember it then. It would have made things worse. But we’re all right now, ain’t we, Effie?’

  She had not the heart to tell him that their money had dwindled down to a few pounds which would not keep them for long. The worst of the winter was to come and coal was expensive. She made a brave attempt at a smile. ‘Of course we are. We’ll both find work and then we’ll live like lords.’ She put her hand in her pocket to reassure herself that Jacob’s gold watch had not been lost in the move. The precious metal warmed at the touch of her fingers and the ticking of the mechanism was like a beating heart. If all else failed she might be forced to pawn it, but this was Georgie’s sole inheritance from his grandfather. It was little enough when all was said and done, but at least she had kept it from Salter’s grasping hands. She rose to her feet and went to the cupboard where Agnes had put the odd assortment of cups, bowls and plates that had also come from the pub, courtesy of Ben Hawkins. On the top shelf Effie found an empty tin that had once contained butterscotch. She laid the watch in it and closed the lid. It would be safe there, she thought, putting it back in its place.

  ‘It’s for Georgie,’ she said in response to Tom’s questioning glance. ‘It’s the only thing he will have that belonged to his grandfather. It will be Georgie’s only link to his pa, and it would be a black day if I was forced to part with it.’

  ‘We’ll manage,’ Tom said stoutly. ‘I’ll find work soon and so will you.’ He stretched his arms above his head and yawned. ‘Is there any of Betty’s meat pie left? I’m hungry.’

  Next morning, Effie could hardly believe it when she awakened to a silent house. After the constant chatter and sounds of everyday life in the crowded home in Phoebe Street, it seemed like paradise to open her eyes and find that she and Georgie had a room to themselves. There was n
o one shouting at the boys to get out of bed or the sound of the girls’ raised voices as they squabbled over their clothes, hair ribbons and whose turn it was to make the bed or tidy their room. There was no smell of tobacco smoke wafting up from below or of sweaty male bodies, but conversely there was no aroma of hot tea and buttered toast, and now that she was wide awake she realised that they were well and truly on their own. She had paid a month’s rent in advance and Georgie needed new shoes. She must look for work and hope to find it soon.

  They tramped the snow-covered streets together, Tom with Georgie perched on his shoulders and Effie holding her skirts above her ankles as her boots sank into the thick snow. While she knocked on doors or enquired at factory gates, Tom looked after Georgie. When it was Tom’s turn to seek employment, Effie allowed Georgie to play in the snow, but she regretted having shown him how to make snowballs as he proved to be adept at throwing and she found herself being bombarded mercilessly by a gleeful two-year-old. Despite the fun in the snow, neither Effie nor Tom had any luck in finding work. They returned home briefly at midday to snatch a meal of bread and margarine washed down with tea, and having dried their boots by the fire, they set off again in the afternoon. No matter how many places they tried, there was no work to be had for a boy and a slight young woman who were both deemed unsuitable for factory labour. Untrained in anything other than working the canals, serving behind a bar or assisting the Great Arnoldo in his strong man act, Effie was close to tears when the final door slammed in her face. It was dark and they had tried the varnish works, the bone factory, the metropolitan alum works and the tar factory, all without success. They were close to Bow Common Bridge and Tom suggested that they pay a call on Ben Hawkins. Recalling her last brush with Maggie, Effie was reluctant, but the factory gates had opened spilling men and women out onto the pavements as they rushed homewards. George began to whimper as they were pushed and jostled and Effie lifted him onto Tom’s shoulders, the decision taken out of her hands.