A Mother's Wish

by Dilly Court

  ‘It’s Georgie’s inheritance,’ Effie protested. ‘I can’t let it go just like that.’

  ‘We’ll get it back when you sell your first brew. There might even be enough left for the omnibus fare to Clerkenwell. You could go and visit Toby in jail.’

  Effie looked down at Georgie who had returned to his toy and was marching the wooden animals into the ark, two by two. Tom’s words had struck home and she felt a glimmer of hope. ‘You’re right,’ she murmured. ‘Stay here with Georgie while I go to the pawnbroker. He might think it odd if a boy of your age turned up with an expensive gold watch.’ She forced her lips into a smile. ‘I don’t want to see you locked up in jail alongside Toby.’

  Three weeks later on a bright sunny April afternoon the rainclouds had been chased away by a frisky breeze. Reflecting the colour of the sky, Limehouse Cut flowed through the city like a blue satin ribbon. With the sun warm on her back Effie trundled her wooden barrow through the streets to wait outside the factory gates. The cart was a new acquisition. Tom had found the wheels on the canal bank and had enlisted Harry Crooke’s help in the construction of the contraption, which had to be strong enough to transport the heavy keg. Harry had been only too pleased to come round each day after work, and they had turned the back yard into a carpenter’s workshop. Effie had kept them supplied with copious amounts of tea, and when the light faded making it too dark to continue Harry had come indoors to sit by the fire and chat. He was as enthusiastic about the prospect of home-brewed ale as Tom, and they were eager to sample the results of Effie’s labours. She had turned the front parlour into a brewery and the whole house reeked of malt, yeast and hops.

  The gold half-hunter watch had fetched a reasonable amount at the pawnbroker’s but nothing like its real value. Effie had spent it wisely and had bought two more second-hand barrels and two dozen pint mugs which now dangled from hooks on the cart. She was nervous as she waited for the factory hooter to sound signalling the end of the shift. Would the men simply barge past her without stopping to refresh themselves with a pint of ale? Would they like her home brew or would they compare it unfavourably with the beer they could get in the pubs? She had feared that Ben might take exception to her selling beer in the street, but he had said it was unlikely to affect his trade since his customers were mainly bargees or people from the south side of the cut. He had given her another barrel and a dozen half-pint tin mugs that were only slightly dented.

  Effie shifted from one foot to the other as the steam whistles hooted a cacophony of sound, followed by the clatter of hobnail boots on concrete and cobblestones. The gates of the chemical works shrieked on their hinges as the gatekeeper swung them open. Effie stood aside as a stream of grime-encrusted men trampled the ground like a herd of stampeding cattle.

  ‘Slake your thirst, gents,’ Effie shouted in an effort to make herself heard above the din. ‘Home-brewed ale, a penny a pint. The best in Bow.’

  Harry Crooke was the first to stop. ‘I’ll try a pint, young lady,’ he said, taking off his cap with a flourish. He held his hand out and took a mug from Effie, sipping its contents with an exaggerated smacking of his lips. ‘Excellent ale.’

  Another man, equally dirty, stopped to give Effie a penny in exchange for a drink. Within minutes she was surrounded by eager customers holding out their money and clamouring for a pint. It was all she could do to wash and dry the mugs in an effort to keep up with demand, but the men did not seem to be too worried about cleanliness and they held out empty mugs they had taken from their mates, impatient to taste Effie’s brew. By the time the crowd had dispersed, she had an empty five gallon barrel and forty pennies in her purse. Exhausted but exhilarated, she trundled the cart homeward with the coppers clinking together like sweet music to her ears. As she reached the corner of Devons Road and Bow Common Lane she saw Harry leaning against a lamppost. He fell into step beside her. ‘You done well, Effie.’

  ‘You started them off,’ Effie said modestly. ‘I think I owe you a free pint or two for helping Tom with the cart.’

  He puffed out his chest and his saunter turned into a swagger. ‘I’m your man, girl. Anything you want doing just send for Harry Crooke.’

  ‘You’ve done enough already. I don’t know what I would have done without the Crooke family.’

  ‘I’d do a lot more for you, if you’d let me,’ Harry said earnestly. ‘What do you say to an evening out, Effie? How about a visit to a music hall and a dish of jellied eels or a fish supper? My treat, of course.’

  Effie stopped, drawing the cart to a sudden halt that caused the mugs and glasses to clink together as if in a toast. ‘I don’t think that would be such a good idea, Harry.’

  He stared at her blankly. ‘Why not? You’re a free woman and I’m an unattached man. What’s to stop us getting together? I mean no disrespect, Effie. I can assure you that my intentions are strictly honourable.’

  ‘Oh, Harry, I know they are. I didn’t mean to insult you, it’s just that there’s someone else.’

  ‘What? D’you mean to say you’ve been stringing me along?’

  ‘Most certainly not. How dare you say such a thing?’

  Harry’s open countenance was suffused by a deep flush. His ears shone pink in the rays of the setting sun. ‘You led me to believe that there was a chance for me, Effie. All that tea and sweet smiles and you was just leading me on.’

  ‘I was not. It was you who got the wrong end of the stick. I was just being myself.’

  ‘And it’s you I care for,’ Harry muttered, staring down at his boots. ‘You must have realised that I had feelings for you. I thought women knew that sort of thing.’

  ‘I thought you were just being kind. I know you like Tom and I thought you were his friend as well as mine. I’m sorry, I really am.’

  ‘There’s plenty of girls who would give their eye teeth for an evening out with a chap like me.’

  ‘Of course there are, Harry. You’re a splendid fellow and I’m very fond of you.’

  ‘Not fond enough, it seems. I still think you was leading me on, and I thought better of you, Effie Grey.’ With a dispirited hunch of his shoulders, Harry turned on his heel and strode off towards Phoebe Street leaving Effie staring after him.

  Suddenly the pennies in her purse did not seem quite so important, and as the sun plummeted below the city skyline Effie pushed her barrow homeward. She should have seen this situation coming and put a stop to it from the outset but she had been too busy with her brewing and her thoughts had been elsewhere. Not an hour passed when she did not think of Toby incarcerated in the house of detention, awaiting removal to a prison where he would work out the rest of his sentence. She had planned all along to spend some of her earnings on an omnibus trip to Clerkenwell in the hope of being allowed to see him; now she had the money and tomorrow was going to be the day. She quickened her pace with renewed energy and hope in her heart.

  A week later, Effie stood outside the forbidding walls of Clerkenwell prison with Georgie in her arms. She had saved up her money for the omnibus journey from Bow and it had taken the best part of the morning. Georgie had been excited at first as if they were on a pleasure trip, but after the second change of vehicle, which had involved waiting in the pouring rain, he had become subdued and had fallen asleep in his mother’s arms during the final leg of their journey. A watery sun illuminated the grey stones of the prison walls but did little to cheer the dismal scene. Effie experienced a feeling of dread as she approached the gatekeeper’s lodge. She tugged at the bell pull and the sound reverberated around an inner courtyard. A face appeared at the grille. ‘Yes?’

  ‘I want to see my husband,’ Effie said, hitching Georgie a little higher on her shoulder so that the turnkey could see him better. ‘I’m Mrs Tapper and my husband is Toby Tapper.’ It was a desperate lie but she had banked on the fact that a young wife might be allowed visiting privileges whereas a mere friend would be turned away.

  ‘It ain’t visiting time.’

  ‘When i
s it allowed?’

  ‘That depends.’

  Effie slipped her hand in her pocket and produced a silver sixpence. The man shook his head. ‘Don’t take bribes, missis.’

  Effie replaced the sixpence with a shilling. ‘That’s all I got, mister. I’m a poor woman left to fend for herself by an unjust sentence.’

  ‘They all says that.’

  ‘Please, mister. Have pity on a poor woman and her child. My boy hasn’t seen his pa for weeks.’

  ‘He’s lucky if he knows who his dad is,’ the turnkey muttered, snatching the coin from her hand.

  The door opened and Effie entered the grim building. The walls seemed to shriek despair as she followed the turnkey across the forecourt, passing beneath a high arch into a deserted inner yard. Pale faces stared down from narrow windows and it seemed to Effie that the place housed ghosts of men rather than flesh and blood mortals. They entered a sullen-looking building that stank of human excrement and filth. Rats scurried along the walls, glaring at them with diamond-chip eyes. Hands reached out through iron bars and voices pleaded for help. Georgie began to whimper and hid his head against Effie’s shoulder as they passed deeper into the building, each long corridor more horrendous than the last.

  The turnkey stopped, produced a bunch of iron keys and unlocked a door. ‘Five minutes only,’ he said, stepping aside.

  The cell was small and only dimly lit by a barred window set high up in the wall. She hardly recognised the unshaven, tousled-haired man who leapt to his feet, staring at her as if he had seen a ghost. ‘Effie, my love. Is it really you?’

  ‘Toby.’ Her voice broke on a sob.

  ‘Toby,’ Georgie repeated, holding out his arms.

  His unquestioning acceptance of Toby’s dishevelled state seemed to break the tension. Smiling, Toby ruffled Georgie’s hair. ‘I’ve missed you, little fellow.’

  Effie set her son gently down on the only chair in the cell. ‘This is a dreadful place. I can’t bear to see you here, Toby.’ She would have walked into his arms, but he laid his hands on her shoulders, holding her away from him with a rueful grimace.

  ‘Don’t get too near me, darling. I’m alive with fleas and lice, and I must smell like the Thames mud at low water.’

  His wry expression brought a reluctant smile to Effie’s lips although her eyes were moist with tears. ‘I don’t care. I’m just glad to see you. It was worth a shilling,’ she added in an attempt at levity. She could see that Toby was battling with his emotions and she could not bear to see him in such a weakened state.

  He brushed his hand across his eyes, making an obvious effort to appear calm. ‘The old devil took money from you?’

  ‘I expect he does it to everyone. I said I was your wife.’

  ‘You are the wife of my heart, Effie,’ he said softly. ‘But you are young and you are free. I’m going to be in prison for a long time and you must make a life for yourself and Georgie without me.’

  ‘Never,’ Effie cried passionately. ‘Don’t talk like that. What has this place done to you to make you give up so easily?’

  ‘Salter was convincing. The judge believed him and there was nothing I could say to change his mind. If Mr Grey had lived it would have been a different matter, but there was no one to speak up for me. My gypsy blood alone makes me guilty in the eyes of some people.’

  ‘That is so unfair. I won’t let you be punished for something you didn’t do.’

  ‘Listen to me, my love. There is nothing you can do that will get me out of this place. Your word alone won’t carry any weight and you are the only living witness to what happened that day.’

  ‘I’ll get a brief, Toby. A good solicitor will put in an appeal and get you off. The law must be on the side of an innocent man.’

  ‘I wish I could believe that, but more important to me now is how you are faring. How have you managed these last few weeks?’

  ‘Time’s up.’ The turnkey threw the door open and stood with his arms folded across his chest. ‘You’ve had your bob’s worth, lady. Now take yourself off.’

  Effie stood on tiptoe to kiss Toby on the lips. ‘I will get you out of here, Toby. Don’t give up hope.’

  The turnkey took a menacing step towards them. ‘Do I have to throw you and the brat out, lady?’

  Effie snatched Georgie up in her arms and backed out of the cell. ‘Trust me,’ she called as the cell door slammed, the sound echoing off the stone walls like the tolling of a death knell. She followed the turnkey in a daze. The place where Toby was incarcerated was far worse than she could have imagined. She felt as though her heart had been torn from her breast and locked in the cell with him.

  ‘I don’t see a wedding band,’ the turnkey said conversationally as he led her across the courtyard. ‘Jumped over the broomstick, did you? Ain’t that what you didicoi people do?’

  His sarcastic words and curled lip brought her back to the present with a jolt. ‘No such thing,’ she retorted angrily. ‘I had to pawn my wedding ring to pay a bloodsucker like you.’

  He unlocked the outer door. ‘Don’t bother coming back, lady. Your man won’t be here long. He’ll be sent to Millbank soon, or somewhere worse.’

  Effie marched past him without dignifying his cruel jibe with an answer. Outside the prison she took a deep breath. The stench of the city streets was like fresh country air compared with the stink of despair and corruption within the prison walls.

  ‘I don’t know what to do,’ Effie said, shaking her head.

  ‘Have another cup of tea, ducks,’ Betty suggested, casting an anxious glance at Ben who was hovering beside Effie with a concerned look on his face.

  ‘Or maybe a drop of brandy,’ he suggested lamely.

  ‘You’re both very kind, and I shouldn’t have come here to bother you with my troubles.’ Effie rose from the chair by the kitchen table but was pushed gently back onto her seat by Betty.

  ‘Of course you should, love. We’re your friends and we’d do anything to help, wouldn’t we, Ben?’

  He nodded his head emphatically. ‘Yes, you know we would, Effie. But I think you’ve got to accept the fact that young Toby won’t get out of jail before his sentence is up. Are you prepared to wait for him?’

  ‘Forever and a day.’ Effie looked up into his good-natured face with an attempt at a smile. ‘You’ve been a true friend, Ben.’

  His cheeks flushed a dull brick red and he cleared his throat. ‘You’ve had a rough time of it, Effie. I wish I could do more.’

  ‘And so do I,’ Betty said, refilling Effie’s cup with tea. ‘If there’s anything I can do, anything at all, just say the word. The whole Crooke family are behind you, love.’

  ‘I think I’ve upset Harry, and it was the last thing I meant to do.’

  Betty pulled a face. ‘He’s just a boy at heart. He’ll get over it and be soft on another pretty face before you can say Jack Robinson.’

  Effie sipped her tea and as if by some divine intervention an idea came to her in a flash. ‘Would you look after Georgie for a day or two, Betty?’

  ‘Yes, of course I would. The girls love him and he’s a good little chap. But what are you going to do?’

  ‘Yes, what’s going on in that pretty head?’ Ben demanded. ‘You’re not planning anything silly, are you?’

  ‘No, not at all. I wonder I didn’t think of it in the first instance. I’m going to Marsh House to put Toby’s case to his father.’

  ‘His father?’ Ben exclaimed, frowning. ‘That’s a new one on me.’

  ‘He never mentioned his pa,’ Betty added, her eyes gleaming at the prospect of a tasty morsel of gossip. ‘Who is he?’

  ‘That’s what I’m going to find out once and for all,’ Effie said, helping Georgie onto her lap as he clamoured for her attention. ‘Will you be a good boy and stay with Betty and the girls for a little while, darling? Mama has to go away for a day or two but I promise I’ll come back very soon.’

  Georgie wrapped a lock of her hair around his small fist
and grinned up at her. ‘Betty,’ he said happily. ‘Aggie and Bella.’

  ‘That’s settled then.’ Effie dropped a kiss on his curly head. ‘All I need now is a horse. Could I borrow Champion tomorrow, Ben?’

  March House shimmered in the sunshine after a heavy shower. Raindrops hung like jewels from the brambles and the branches of the trees that were just bursting into leaf. Steam rose from Effie’s damp skirts and Champion’s wet pelt, and the marsh and damp hedgerows smelt like Christmas pudding. Effie had the strangest feeling of coming home, an emotion that she pushed to the back of her mind. She was on a mission that had everything to do with Toby and related to herself only in the fact that she needed him and wanted him by her side.

  Champion seemed to know his way and he ambled into the stable yard, whinnying when he spotted Jeffries standing by the pump.

  ‘Good Lord, missis. What brings you here? I thought you’d gone back to the city.’

  Effie slid from the saddle, handing him the reins. ‘I came to see the master. Do you know where I might find him?’

  ‘He’ll be in the walled garden, I daresay. That’s where he spends most of his days now that the spring sowing is finished.’

  Effie stared at him in surprise. ‘Mr Westlake has turned farmer?’

  ‘Aye, that’s about the nub of it, missis. You started him off, it seems, and he’s trying to set the old place to rights.’

  ‘I’m glad to hear it, but perhaps I’d better see Nellie first.’

  ‘You’ll find the old besom in the kitchen. She don’t change.’

  Jeffries led Champion into the stables, leaving Effie alone in the yard. She found it hard to believe that Seymour Westlake would be getting his hands dirty, and she wondered if the old groom’s mind had begun to wander. She made her way to the kitchen to seek confirmation from Nellie.

  ‘Why, just look what the cat’s dragged in,’ Nellie exclaimed with a wide smile that belied her sarcastic words. ‘Where’s the little lamb? Where’s my boy?’ She craned her neck as if expecting to see Georgie following his mother into the room.