A Mother's Wish

by Dilly Court

  He strolled past her, looking around with a calculating eye. ‘Nice little place you’ve got here. It’s a step up from a caravan.’

  Tight-lipped, Effie led the way down the narrow hall to the kitchen. The air was still heavy with the smell of tobacco smoke, cheap perfume, beer and hot tea. She went to the window and flung it open.

  ‘A glass of beer wouldn’t go amiss, Effie. I hear you make the best brew in Bow.’

  She turned her head to look at him and was momentarily dazzled by his charming smile. This was the Frank that she had fallen in love with, but she realised now that his appeal was superficial. Beneath the charisma there lurked a hard-headed businessman who thought that money and power could buy love. In the tight-knit world of the fairground the Tinsleys were kings, but outside their realm they were little better than costermongers, selling the excitement of the fairground and trading in dreams.

  ‘You’re welcome to try some,’ she said, slipping past him. ‘Sit down and I’ll bring you a pint.’ She went into the front parlour and drew a tankard of ale from a barrel. She turned to leave the room and found Frank standing in the doorway, eyeing her speculatively. ‘What is it?’ she demanded nervously. ‘Why do you look at me like that, Frank?’

  The muscles of his face relaxed into a smile as he took the tankard from her. ‘I was just thinking what an enterprising little thing you are, Effie Grey. And if anything you’ve grown prettier since I last saw you. It doesn’t seem fair for one woman to have so many attributes.’

  Effie felt the blood rush to her cheeks. She knew that he was deliberately flattering her but his words made her feel warm inside. ‘That’s pure blarney. I think you must be part Irish.’

  ‘It’s not a crime to admire a beautiful woman.’

  ‘Stop flirting with me. It won’t work.’

  His expression altered subtly but the smile remained as if painted on his handsome features. ‘It’s good to see you again, my pet. I can’t tell you how much I’ve missed you.’

  ‘Tell me why you came. I know you want something from me in return for speaking up for Toby, but you must understand that there can never be anything between us now.’

  He put his drink down without tasting it, and he took her by the shoulders, gazing deeply into her eyes. ‘I want you, my dove. No beating about the bush. I want you as I’ve never wanted any woman in my life.’

  His strength of will almost overpowered her, but Laila’s words of warning rang in her ears. ‘Let me go, Frank.’

  ‘Stop playing games with me, Effie. You’re no shrinking violet; neither are you an innocent virgin. I’m trading your favours for my word in the witness box, my angel. It’s as simple as that.’

  His mask had slipped and she found herself looking into the eyes of a ruthless man. She was suddenly afraid, but she was not going to let him see her fear. ‘I don’t need to bargain with you. Jed heard what Salter said. His evidence would be as good as yours.’

  ‘And Jed works for me. He’ll follow my lead, so don’t try to play one off against the other.’

  ‘I wouldn’t have believed this of you. I thought you were a decent man, Frank Tinsley, but I see now how wrong I was.’ Effie struggled to free herself from his grasp but he tightened his hold on her shoulders, digging his fingers into her soft flesh.

  ‘I get what I want any way I can. You’ll warm my bed until I tire of you. Refuse my offer and your gypsy lover can rot in jail for all I care.’

  ‘Take your hands off me, Frank. You can’t make me do this.’

  ‘Can I not?’

  ‘I want nothing to do with you. You’re a brute and I hate you.’

  ‘That will make it even more exciting.’ He pulled her to him and took her mouth in a brutal kiss that bruised her lips and outraged her senses. With a swift movement he slipped one arm around her, ripping her blouse open from neck to waist with his free hand. His fingers probed the soft mounds of her breasts, seeking out and teasing her nipples. She fought to catch her breath, kicking out with her feet as his lips raked the slim column of her neck, his teeth nipping at her flesh as his mouth closed over her left nipple. It was a violation too far and Effie brought up her knee, catching him hard in the groin. With a howl of pain he released her and she fell against the wall, bruising her shoulders, but she felt no pain. Anger roiled inside her and she pushed him as hard as she could. Losing his balance he stumbled and fell to the floor.

  ‘Get out of my house,’ she cried, struggling to control the bubble of hysteria that threatened to overwhelm her. ‘I’d rather die than give myself to a brute like you.’

  Slowly, Frank rose to his feet. His face had paled alarmingly and he was in obvious pain. ‘You bitch,’ he hissed. ‘Don’t think you’ve heard the last of this, Effie Grey.’ He seized the tankard, and downed the ale in several greedy gulps.

  Effie backed away from him. ‘You’re no better than Salter. I can’t think what I ever saw in you. I pity your poor wife.’

  ‘I will have you, and it will be all the sweeter to hear you begging for more.’

  ‘Get out. Leave me alone or I swear I’ll go to your father and tell him what you’ve done.’

  He threw back his head and laughed. ‘He wouldn’t believe a trull like you. He blames you for turning my head with your cunning ways. As for my wife, she’d wring your neck and throw you to the dogs. My Moll is a hard woman, not a soft simpering city girl.’ He wrenched the door open. ‘Your lover can spend the rest of his life in jail for all I care. You know where to find me if you change your mind.’

  Effie managed to control her emotions until she heard the front door close behind him. She sank slowly to the floor, burying her face in her arms, and wept, but as the initial shock began to ebb away on a tide of tears, it was replaced by cold diamond-hard anger. She scrambled to her feet and made her way outside to the yard. Stripping off her clothes she worked the pump handle, allowing the ice-cold water to flow over her body in a cleansing stream. The sun was a flaming ball of fire, high in the cloudless sky. Steam rose from her naked limbs as she shook the water out of her eyes and wrung droplets from her wet hair. She snatched up her discarded garments, tossing them into the washhouse as she hurried indoors. She raced upstairs intent on changing into clothes that had not come into contact with any part of Frank’s anatomy.

  As she tamed her wildly curling damp hair into a chignon at the back of her neck she vowed never to allow Frank to get the better of her again. Whereas once she had longed for his caresses, now just the thought of his hands on her flesh made her feel physically sick. She secured her hair with a final pin, studying her reflection in the mirror above the mantelshelf. A livid bruise on her neck bore testament to the violence of his assault and she pulled her collar up to hide it. Frank Tinsley had much to answer for, but he would never get the better of her. She would not beg and she would never give in to him.

  Satisfied that she looked presentable, she forced herself to go out on her rounds. No matter what her inner turmoil, life had to go on and she needed the money. If her hands shook a little as she poured beer for the thirsty factory workers from the Metropolitan Alum Works, they did not seem to notice. She sold out within minutes, pocketing another three shillings and fourpence. The hot summer weather was proving to be a marvellous boost for trade, and she pushed her cart home with a determined set to her jaw. No one, least of all Frank, was going to prevent her from securing Toby’s early release and a full pardon.

  Despite Frank’s confidence that Jed would be easy to intimidate, Effie had more faith in the blacksmith. She did not believe that he would allow Frank to bully him into withholding his evidence, and after she had collected Georgie from the fairground she went to look for him. The agonised howls of a man having a tooth pulled led her straight to the blacksmith’s stand. She arrived as the sufferer staggered out of the chair holding a handkerchief to his bleeding mouth. He was helped to the ground by a group of anxious relations and half carried towards the beer tent.

  ‘Next,’ Jed roar
ed, but the queue of patients had dwindled away and Effie found herself standing alone on the crushed turf.

  Jed wiped his bloody hands on his canvas apron, adding to the impressive array of gory stains already in place. ‘Oh, it’s you, Effie. What’s up, ducks? Do you want a tooth pulled or have you come about the job? I still can’t find an assistant like my Ethel.’

  ‘Can I have a word in private?’ Effie climbed onto the platform, dragging a reluctant Georgie by the hand. He clung to her skirts, peering nervously at Jed.

  ‘Don’t worry, nipper,’ Jed boomed in his deep bass tones. ‘I don’t eat little boys.’

  Effie glanced at the merry-go-round, praying silently that she would not see Frank or his father. Luckily, it was not Frank but a young boy who moved nimbly between the gallopers as he took the pennies from children and adults alike. She greeted Jed with a smile. ‘About yesterday, when you overhead Salter talking to me. Do you remember what he said?’

  Jed scratched his head, thinking hard before he answered. ‘Aye, I think I do.’

  ‘Has Frank said anything to you about it, Jed?’

  ‘Not that I recall. What’s up, Effie?’

  ‘I need your help.’

  ‘Speak up then, girl. I’m always ready to help a mate.’

  Lowering her voice, Effie explained everything to him in the simplest possible terms. She waited for his response hardly daring to breathe.

  Jed thought long and hard before slowly shaking his head. ‘No, I daresn’t, Effie. I’d like to help you and I got nothing against young Toby, but if Frank boots me out I’ll have nowhere to go and my family will starve.’

  ‘But you’re a farrier by trade. You could set up anywhere.’

  He shook his head. ‘Times is hard in the country. Folk are flocking to the cities looking for work in the factories. I can’t risk it, girl. I’m sorry.’ He turned his attention to a woman who was struggling to hold a screaming child. ‘Can I help you, missis?’

  ‘It’s my Solly, mister. He’s got a rotten tooth.’

  ‘I’ll have it out in a trice, ma’am. Step this way.’

  Effie picked Georgie up and descended the steps hastily. She did not want him to witness a tooth pulling, and to pacify his protests she purchased a toffee apple from Myrtle. The day that had begun so well had turned into a nightmare and when she saw Sal Salter barring her way, she knew that it was about to get worse.

  ‘I’ve been waiting for you, Effie Grey.’ Sal stood with her arms akimbo and her face flushed brick red, whether from drink or rage Effie could not tell, and she did not want to get close enough to find out.

  ‘Let me pass,’ she said coldly. ‘I’ve nothing to say to you, Mrs Salter.’

  ‘Don’t get on your high horse with me, girl. I got something to say to you and it won’t wait.’

  ‘Then say it and let me get on my way.’

  ‘You’re a cool piece, I’ll give you that, but you’ll laugh on the other side of your face when I’ve finished with you.’

  ‘Haven’t you and your husband done enough to my family?’ Effie demanded angrily. ‘Leave me alone. I don’t want anything to do with you.’

  ‘I’m not playing games. Salter told me what happened last night and what he let slip in front of witnesses. If you try to use that against him it’ll be the worse for you and for your family.’ Sal ruffled Georgie’s hair but the smile on her lips was anything but kindly. ‘Accidents happen to little ’uns,’ she added in a low voice. ‘The canal is deep enough to drown a child. They often topple in when they’re not being watched.’

  Effie shivered in spite of the heat, but she was not going to let Sal smell her fear. She snatched Georgie up in her arms, holding him as if she would never let him go. ‘You’re evil, Sal. You’ll burn in hell for certain.’

  ‘I expect I will, dearie, but you’ll be there first, and that brat of yours.’ Sal turned on her heel and walked away.

  Effie struggled alone with her fears and worries. She dared not tell Tom in case he did something silly. He might think he was a man but he was no match for either of the Salters when it came to strength or cunning. There was no one in whom Effie could confide and there was nobody she could think of who could help with her predicament. She could not tell Betty what Sal had said as she knew that the whole Crooke family would be rallied in an attempt to get the better of the Salters and that would end badly. Gang warfare was prevalent in the East End and Effie was certain that Salter could raise a small army of villains to support him if need be. She did not want to place Fred or his sons in danger and for the same reason she did not go to Ben. The dead houses on the banks of the Thames were filled with corpses fished out of the river, and not all of them were suicides. But it was the threat to Georgie that terrified her most and she hardly dared let him out of her sight. She abandoned her midday round of the factories and only left the house at night when she was certain that Tom was there to watch over her son.

  She barely slept at night for worrying and she had even stopped writing to Toby. In her present agitated state she was afraid that she would let something slip and he would read between the lines and realise that something was terribly wrong. She would have given anything to see him again, but even if she had had the opportunity to visit the prison she could not have burdened him with the problems that beset her now. To know that she was being propositioned by Frank and threatened by the Salters would only add to his frustration and increase his suffering. She hoped he would understand if she ever had a chance to explain, but she was beginning to think that she would never see him again. Once or twice, in the dead of night, she had considered giving in to Frank’s outrageous demands, but the thought of being intimate with him was nauseating, and in the cold light of dawn she had abandoned the idea.

  She had kept away from the fairground even though she would have loved to see more of her old friends, and at long last the fair was due to pack up and leave next day. To her intense relief Frank had left her alone, and she hoped that the departure of the travelling people would bring an end to the threat from the Salters. With just hours to go before the fair moved on to its next destination, she had gone out on her rounds. Having sold the last drop of ale she was hot and tired. The still air was heavy with an oppressive heat that seemed to suck the breath from her lungs. She had not gone straight home but had taken a detour intending to pay a call on Betty at the pub and have a chat over a cup of tea. Now that the worst danger was past, she wanted nothing more than to unburden her troubled soul to a friendly ear.

  She stopped in the middle of Bow Common bridge hoping to catch a breath of air, but the stench from the factories rose in a suffocating cloud of smoke and dust and the sky was tinged with sulphurous yellow. Below her the canal seemed to boil as it moved sluggishly, rippling with the bow waves of passing narrowboats. She could hear sounds of merriment emanating from the tavern and she was about to continue on her way when an ominous rumble of thunder made her change her plans. Her first instinct was to get home to comfort Georgie. He was terrified by thunder and lightning and had been left with Dotty who might also be frightened by storms. Effie turned her barrow and set off for Albert Place.

  The streets were strangely quiet now that the hordes of workers had gone their separate ways. Although there were several hours before darkness engulfed the city, there was an unnatural twilight and dark clouds of starlings swooped on tall buildings as if homing in to roost for the night. Their head-splitting chorus was both noisy and eerie. A wind had come up from nowhere, buffeting Effie, tugging at her hair and slapping her face with pieces of straw and detritus snatched up from the gutters. She put her head down and threw all her weight into pushing the cart with its heavy oak barrel. The mugs banged together and an even stronger gust almost tipped the barrel off the barrow causing the mugs to clatter in unison like chattering teeth. Then the rain came, falling from the cast-iron sky in steady torrents. It swept through the city turning streets into rivulets and causing blocked drains to overflow. Effie was cl
ose to home but she could barely stand and she was forced to take shelter in a chapel doorway.

  She was already soaked to the skin but the wind and rain made it impossible to manoeuvre the cart. Any moment it might tip onto the cobblestones and possibly smash into matchwood; she struggled to keep it upright. A flash of lightning was followed almost immediately by a loud crump of thunder. It rolled around the sky, echoing off the buildings and fading into the distance only to be followed by more lightning. Another crack of thunder made the ground shake beneath her feet. Effie huddled against the chapel door covering her ears with her hands. The barrel swayed ominously, caught by the strongest blast of wind yet. It tipped and would have fallen if a dark figure had not appeared and grabbed it with both hands. Lashed by the wind and rain, the man struggled to hold the barrel and Effie left the shelter of the doorway to help him.

  His wide-brimmed hat was pulled down over his brow and the howling wind made it impossible to speak as they battled against its mighty force. Effie had no idea who was helping her until a flash of lightning illuminated his scarred features.

  ‘Mr Westlake.’ She almost lost her grip on the barrel as the wet wood slipped through her hands.

  ‘It’s the day of judgement,’ Seymour said, baring his teeth in a grim smile. ‘An apocalypse, my dear Effie.’

  Dashing the rain from her eyes, she stared at him dumbfounded. ‘I don’t understand. What are you doing here, sir?’

  ‘Never mind that now. Let me help you get this contraption home. How far have you to go?’

  Effie pointed in the direction of Albert Place. ‘Just a hundred yards or so, but I couldn’t push the cart against the wind.’

  ‘Don’t waste your breath talking,’ Seymour said, taking the handles in a firm grasp. ‘Lead on.’

  Lashed by wind and rain and half blinded by the jagged flashes of lightning, they made their way slowly and with difficulty. Effie steadied the barrel but several of her tin mugs had gone flying off down the road as if flung by angry hands.