Shoddy Prince

by Sheelagh Kelly

  With imagination his only vengeance, Nat saw again the murdered woman’s body and superimposed it with that of his tormentor, visualizing Lillvwhite perforated with knife wounds, particularly in the bottom.

  The master’s voice interrupted. ‘Oh, and I should not anticipate that your mother will be at home when you get there, Smellie.’ Lillywhite gloated down his crimson proboscis. ‘She has been arrested.’

  2

  Fear preoccupied Nat for the rest of the afternoon. All he could think of was his mother cowering in a dungeon. Terrified of going home to an empty house, he dallied at his usual haunt of Foss Bridge, hoping for inspiration. Whilst here, he glimpsed Bright Maguire skipping in his direction along Walmgate and waved to her, but she failed to see him as she gambolled round the corner out of view. Disappointed, he lounged there for a moment longer before concluding that he was not going to find an answer to his problem here and so dragged his feet towards Stonebow Lane, fearing the worst.

  Hence the rush of joy on finding his mother safe at home! Even the bad-tempered tirade which greeted him could not dampen it. From what he could gather she had been released pending the hearing at the Police Court next week. That would mean another early rise, hence the grumpiness, but Nat gave only half an ear to her chastisement now, for he had noticed the man seated at the table, leaning back, ankles crossed, all relaxed and smiling as if he owned the place. He was a bit older than Nat’s mother, the boy guessed, with very wavy, thick dark-brown hair that fell low over his forehead. He had thick eyebrows, too. His eyes were hooded and his lips full. He had on a drab suit and a checked waistcoat which was only fastened by a top button, making his stomach appear larger than it was. The boots he wore were brown and deeply scuffed; they had not seen polish for many months.

  Maria noticed that Nat was not paying full attention to the lecture and so abandoned it. ‘I can see I aren’t doing an aporth o’ good! This is Mr Kendrew. He helped me at the police station – well go on, thank the gentleman! It was all because o’ you I was there, you know.’

  Nat mumbled his thanks but took an instant dislike to Kendrew; not for any particular reason, he just hated anyone who might spoil the relationship he himself shared with his mother, and by the familiarity in the man’s attitude it appeared as if this was his intent.

  Alas, the man shared their tea as well, remaining until it was time for Maria to go out to work and so ruining the usual hour of intimacy Nat enjoyed with his parent. Indeed, most of her chat was for Kendrew. When she ducked behind the curtain to wash for work the man tried to strike up a rapport with the boy, who remained sullen. Nat was never loquacious in adult company, but there was added reason not to like Kendrew now; he had the most unattractive dimple at the corner of his mouth that turned a grin into a sneer. Nat became increasingly irritated by the dent and perversity glued his eyes there. Kendrew put a hand to his mouth. ‘What’s up, have I got a crumb on my face?’

  Nat shook his head.

  ‘What d’you keep staring for then?’

  Nat blushed and looked away to where his still damp clothes hung over the embers, filling the room with the odour of scorched river water. Becoming conscious of his wet boots, the boy took these off and put them on the hearth with his stockings draped over the top.

  Maria returned so quietly that she was unnoticed at first and had time to appraise Kendrew more closely. She guessed he was about twenty-five. In profile he was rather more good-looking than when viewed full face. From the front his lower cheeks were too round, like a hamster that has crammed food into both pouches, but from this angle his Grecian nose was very striking. With his eyes cast downwards she could see, too, that he had very long lashes, dark like his hair. In repose, his lower lip tended to bulge sensuously; ignored by the boy he had begun to tweak it, until from the corner of his eye he felt her observation and turned towards her, grinning.

  Maria enjoyed a tingle of unaccustomed pleasure at this male attention, feeling none of the contempt she felt for those who hired her body. Maybe it was the dimple; she came up to screw a gentle finger into it.

  The familiarity of this act sent a jolt through Nat’s entire body. His heart thumped as he watched Kendrew’s reaction. There was nothing, absolutely nothing, that could promote outrage, Kendrew did not even touch her, but that laugh, that hated dimple… Nat experienced such jealousy, such fury, that he felt his head might blow off.

  Maria was apologizing. ‘I’m sorry, we’ll have to part company now Sep, I’ve work to go to.’

  What was that she had called him? Shep? Sounds like a dog, thought Nat. Go on, dog, leave us alone and don’t come again.

  Kendrew shoved back the wooden chair, picked up his hat and stood facing her. ‘Might I call on you again?’

  No! Say no, Nat urged his mother.

  ‘If it takes your fancy.’

  Nat cringed at the embarrassing coyness portrayed by his mother, and willed the man to leave. With a wink and a jaunty pat of his bowler, Kendrew left. Still happy, Maria told Nat to go to bed. At his downcast expression she realized how upset he was that she had had so little time for him that evening, and in a burst of good spirit said, ‘All right, then, you can brush my hair out for me – but it’ll have to be quick.’ She planted herself on the chair that Kendrew had vacated, whilst Nat ran the brush through her long dark tresses. ‘Did you get into trouble at school after I left?’ He nodded, though did not elaborate on how severe the trouble had been; his buttocks hurt even now. She gave an angry murmur of futility. ‘Damned teachers… how’s your reading coming along, then?’

  ‘All right.’ He picked up a bunch of hair and used the brush to stroke the ends.

  ‘I haven’t got time to hear you tonight, but tomorrow before I go out you can read me a few pages from the book.’

  This wasn’t such an ordeal as it might sound for someone who could barely read. There was only one book in the house, a puny volume of children’s tales, which his mother’s friend Sister Theresa had read to him so often that he knew it off by heart and what he didn’t know he could guess from the illustrations. His mother wouldn’t notice if he missed a word, for she was hardly literate herself.

  ‘Who’s that man?’

  ‘I told you, he’s Mr Kendrew.’ Maria had closed her eyes, enjoying the light caress of the brush strokes.

  ‘You called him Shep.’

  ‘No, Sep. Septimus Kendrew.’

  ‘You didn’t tell me he was coming.’

  She uttered a laugh. ‘I didn’t know, did I?’

  ‘Well, who is he?’

  Maria opened her eyes. ‘Are you daft or summat? I’ve just told you.’

  ‘I don’t like him.’

  ‘Nobody says you have to. Right that’ll have to do, Nat!’ She snatched the brush, rose and delivered a brusque kiss. ‘Off to bed with you now.’

  Head bowed, Nat shuffled away. After he had gone, she ignited a paraffin lamp. It was barely necessary yet, but Maria hated coming home to a darkened house. She then put the finishing touches to her appearance, replacing her ankle-length skirts with a shorter dress and a pinafore, as worn by a child. There was a mirror on the wall; much of its silver had flaked off but it served its purpose. Posing before it, she tied a ribbon round her head and into a bow, schoolgirl fashion. This was where the emaciated body had its advantages. There were men who preferred young girls. Notwithstanding the look of knowledge in her eye, dressed like this Maria looked little more than fifteen, which guaranteed her a good few years of income.

  Whilst getting ready, her mind relived the events of the day: battling once again with the supercilious Lillywhite – as if once hadn’t been bad enough – then moving on quickly to her meeting with Sep Kendrew. She had told Nat that the man had ‘helped’ her at the police station; helped was a bit of an exaggeration. He had merely been sitting opposite her in the corridor whilst she waited to be charged and they had started chatting about the recent murder. Even if she had wanted to answer Nat’s question she couldn’t
have, for she knew nothing about the man. When she had asked what he was doing at the police station he had replied that it was all a misunderstanding, which meant that he could have been anything from a debtor to a rapist. But no, she knew the male species well enough to be sure he wasn’t the latter. There was no evil in him. He was probably a petty thief, which was of no consequence to Maria as long as he didn’t steal from her. When she had told Nat that Kendrew had helped her what she actually meant was that he had defended her vocally when the police sergeant had called her all kinds of filthy names, but of course she couldn’t say that to her innocent son.

  After the contretemps she had asked, ‘What’re you being so nice to me for?’ Kendrew was aware of her line of work because of the manner in which she had been treated by the police sergeant. ‘Are you just after a free ride? If so you can think again.’

  Sep had been genuinely aggrieved. ‘I defended you ’cause I think you’re very attractive! Fair enough, I don’t like seeing you in such a low line of business, but I know that circumstances must have driven you to it and you shouldn’t be treated in such a disrespectful fashion – and if you’ll allow me to, I’ll make sure you never have to endure this sort of thing again.’

  Accustomed to such flannel she had scoffed, but by and by as he hastened to emphasize the innocence behind his motives she had come to believe that he actually meant it and found herself attracted to his rough charm. She had remained wary of inviting him in after he had walked her home, but he hadn’t so much as touched her hand. On the contrary, she had been the familiar one, tickling his dimple like that. The memory caused a smile. She hoped he would call again. A quick rub of her cheeks and she was ready to go.

  Nat listened for the door to click, waited a few minutes, then relaced his boots and wandered out into the street for a nightly perambulation of his kingdom.

  * * *

  Nat did not attend school the next day, either. When he came in at four Kendrew was there again. He had apparently brought a gift with him, a pair of red stockings embroidered with swallows. Maria was trying them on in the bedroom.

  ‘There’s a bit of a hole in the knee,’ Sep forewarned her, ‘but somebody as clever as you will be able to mend it.’

  Maria came out from behind the curtain to display her gift, parading up and down with her skirts above her knees and wearing a smile that made Nat feel ill.

  ‘Like ’em, Nat?’ queried Sep.

  The little boy shrugged.

  ‘I would’ve brought you a present too, but I didn’t know what you’d like.’ Kendrew dipped into his pocket. ‘Here, go and buy yourself some sherbet.’

  Nat stared at the halfpenny in Sep’s grubby palm.

  ‘By, he’s never been so backward in coming forward!’ grinned Maria. ‘Go on, take it – but you’ll have to wait while after tea to spend it.’

  Loath to accept but equally loath to refuse, Nat put the halfpenny in his pocket. After tea, when Maria gave him leave to visit the shop, Nat did not budge from the table. ‘I don’t feel like any sweets.’

  A look passed between Sep and Maria, one of amused frustration. Maria shepherded her son to the door. ‘I don’t care what you spend it on, just go! And take your time.’

  Nat looked up at her, then at the smirking Kendrew, understanding now that the halfpenny was an enticement to get rid of him. Feeling unwanted, he left them and wandered round the streets, though resisted their instruction to buy himself confectionery. He would rather starve than be grateful to that man. The halfpenny was still in his pocket when he returned. Thankfully, Kendrew was in the act of leaving; Nat passed him on the stairs. Maria was preparing for work. ‘Bedtime, Nat!’

  Her son lingered, wringing his hands. ‘Why does he keep coming here?’

  ‘He being Mr Kendrew, I presume.’ Maria bustled about. ‘He’s only been twice. You make it sound like he’s living here. He’s lost his job and he’s just making use of his spare time until he finds a new one, that’s all. Come on now – bed!’

  Nat obeyed, reassured that Kendrew’s visits would be curtailed as soon as he gained new employment.

  Unfortunately, it became clear that Kendrew was making little effort in this field, for he turned up on Saturday too. Saturdays were precious to Nat, when he and his mother would go shopping and she would treat him to an iced bun, but this afternoon she packed him off on his own with a list while she entertained her caller. Even the Sabbath was not inviolate. Normally he would rise at the clamour of churchbells, make the fire, hang the kettle over it, fetch his mother a cup of tea then climb back under the patchwork quilt beside her and they would snuggle up lazily until late morning. This particular Sunday, however, she was up before him and when he finally woke it was to the aroma of roast beef. It turned out that Kendrew was to be a guest at dinner. Nothing, swore the little boy to himself, nothing could possibly surpass this violation. Alas, it could, for on Monday Sep arrived at a quarter to nine in the morning to accompany Maria to the Police Court, and the pair of them escorted Nat to school before going on their way.

  Once inside the school, Nat hid behind some coats in the cloakroom until he was sure his mother had gone, then he sidled off. He maundered around the river for a while, poking half-heartedly at the water with a branch, then finding a piece of string he made it into a fishing rod and sat for half an hour dangling it over the water.

  A passing workman loitered behind him. Nat turned and squinted at the intruder. ‘You need a hook and a worm on the end if you want to catch owt. Doubt there’ll be owt living in that scum anyroad.’ Nat had never liked people telling him what to do and remained hunched in his futile position until the man laughed and moved on. ‘You’ll still be sitting here when I’m on me way home!’

  ‘Shitty bum,’ muttered Nat, then hurled the branch into the river, wondering what to do next.

  The wind carried distant cries of children at play in the schoolyard where he himself should have been, bringing an idea to mind: he would go and visit his new – his only – friend, Bright Maguire. She would be on her morning break too. Out of eagerness he ran most of the way down Walmgate and arrived breathless at the girls’ playground. His eyes did not have to scan the hubbub for long before falling on her laughing face. That lovely face. It took Bright a moment longer to spot him. He waved both arms frantically, drawing unwanted attention from the other girls who giggled and jeered when Bright finally saw him and came over, rather reluctantly in his opinion.

  ‘What’re you doing here?’ she hissed through the gate. ‘If Sister sees ye there’ll be the devil to pay.’

  Having expected a warmer greeting, he was annoyed. ‘I’ll go, then.’

  ‘No!’ Her twig-like arm shot out to draw him back. ‘I’m glad to see ye. It’s just that I didn’t want ye to get into trouble.’

  ‘Me mother says I should be called Trouble.’ Nat lifted one side of his mouth. ‘I’m always in it.’ When asked why this was he explained, ‘For not being able to do me lessons – well, I can do ’em, but I just don’t like ’em.’

  ‘What don’t you like?’ Holding onto the gate, she balanced herself on the very tips of her boots, an ungainly ballerina.

  He shrugged and scuffed his own boot around the pavement. ‘Reading, sums…’

  ‘I’ll help ye,’ was her instantaneous reaction. ‘I’m the best reader in my class.’

  Nat felt resentful. ‘Show-off.’

  She blushed; then, after a moment’s awkwardness, redressed the balance. ‘I’m not too good at sums, though. I keep forgetting my times tables. What are you up to?’

  His face showed he had no inkling as to what she meant.

  ‘You know, two twos are four, three twos are six – I’m up to nines. Listen.’ She recited parrot fashion her nine times table, faltering only once. ‘I’ll teach you if ye like. Say it after me…’

  ‘Don’t want to, it’s daft.’

  ‘It’s not daft if it stops ye getting a clout.’

  Nat thought about this and sa
w the wisdom in it, but was never one to accept good advice. ‘I don’t care.’

  ‘Go on, let me,’ pressed Bright, then noticed he was studying her closely. ‘What’s up? What’re you looking at?’

  Nat’s eyes had been searching for the chocolate mark; there it was under her chin. Had it really been chocolate it would have melted and smudged by now so, disappointingly, he would have to believe her former explanation that the mark was permanent. ‘What did you say you call that thing on your neck?’

  She touched it self-consciously. ‘A mole – now, will ye let me help ye with your tables or not?’

  He acted nonchalant. ‘If you want.’

  Bright pulled back her shoulders, clasped her hands and deported herself like a teacher in class. ‘Right, how far can ye count?’

  Nat hesitated. ‘Twenty.’

  The girl’s mouth fell open. She herself had been able to count to a hundred when she was seven, but seeing his look of defiance she refrained from mockery and told him that all you did was to add one, two, three and so on, and after twenty-nine, came thirty.

  Nat was just getting the hang of it when a bell clanged. Bright wheeled around, heeded the motioning arm of the nun and cast a warning at Nat. ‘Better go! Wait for me at dinnertime and walk home with me. We’ll carry on then.’ She galloped off, hair cascading, and the babble of the schoolyard died.

  Nat wandered back along Walmgate deep in concentration. ‘Thirty-one, thirty-two…’ With fifty came such a burst of achievement that he was spurred on to run and tell his mother – but no, he would have to wait until dinnertime or she’d be angry again. Oh, but he must tell someone!