When Nat lifted desolate eyes to see an outstretched hand offering half a sandwich – the remnants of a docker’s lunch tin – he grabbed it.
‘Oy! No need to take me bloody hand an’ all,’ complained the Samaritan before walking on.
It was whilst Nat was gobbling up the morsel that he saw Kendrew emerging from a public house. Immediately alert, he ducked behind one of the pillars of the school gates, then peeped around the edge of the brickwork, watching Kendrew like a hawk. Kendrew, sauntering in his normal indolent manner, did not see the boy, or at least did not recognize him, and walked on past the school. Leaving a respectable distance and hugging the wall, Nat followed him up the avenue and out onto Hessle Road. All lassitude vanished. At the thought of being led to his mother Nat would have pursued Kendrew for miles. However, his enemy merely crossed the road and travelled a further fifty yards before rounding a corner and entering a dilapidated cottage. After he had closed the door, Nat came up to stand before it, unsure of what course to take. The door opened directly onto the living quarters; through it he could hear Sep’s call.
‘Good evening, Mrs Kendrew!’ Sep threw his hat on a chair, then enthroned himself at the table to await the meal which Maria was now transporting from the kitchen.
She smiled a welcome and put his meal before him, sitting down opposite to eat her own. Even now it was hard for Maria to believe that she was married at last. These past weeks in Hull when he had kept delaying the wedding… well, after a lifetime of not trusting men one couldn’t prevent misgivings. But she had faced him with her worry and he had been so amazed that she could think he had been offering her falsehoods that he had gone straight out that very day and arranged the wedding, and here she was a respectable married woman! Well, almost. Unfortunately, Sep’s new job had not lasted long. He had a tendency to oversleep in the morning and this had resulted in him not only losing his job but the cottage that went with it. Maria had been forced to go back to her old line of work in order that they might live. Sep detested it of course, and was profusely regretful that he had forced her into this, but she said she didn’t mind and anyway it wouldn’t be long before he had another job if he went out every day hunting, as he had been doing.
‘Any luck today, Sep?’
He sawed at his meat. Maria’s cooking had not improved but it satisfied Kendrew who, never having been used to rich living could not miss it. ‘Sorry, love, there’s nowt. I’ve been all over town. My feet are killing me.’
‘Aw. I’ll get you a bowl of water after tea and you can soak them.’
‘By, you do look after me,’ he smiled warmly. ‘Go fetch us the sauce will you?’
It was while Maria was in the scullery that the knock came. Normally, Sep would have waited for her to answer it, but feeling generous today he called, ‘I’ll get it!’
When he opened the door to reveal Nat he slammed it behind him with one hand, grabbed Nat’s throat with the other and dragged him around the corner. ‘What the hell are you doing here?’
Almost choking, Nat was unable to speak. Kendrew released a little of the pressure and shook an answer from him. ‘I’ve come to see me mam!’
‘Well you can sling yer hook, she doesn’t want to see you.’
‘She does!’
Kendrew rammed Nat up against the wall. ‘Why d’you think she didn’t let you know where she was going?’
‘It’s you! You what took her away!’
‘No! She went because she’s sick of you, sick of the trouble you’ve caused her. Now I’m telling you, you can get back to where you came from and keep away from here. Otherwise I’ll bloody kill you. I mean it! Just you stay away.’
His face a mask of viciousness, Kendrew thrust Nat from him and, brushing back his hair, stormed off round the corner. Nat heard the door slam before shedding a brief burst of tears at Kendrew’s accusation; could his mother have left him because he was a naughty boy? No, no it wasn’t true! She wouldn’t do that. Kendrew had tricked her into leaving, Nat was sure of it. Undeterred in his intentions of seeing her, he went round the corner, looked briefly at the closed door then moved further up the street to wait until his mother came out.
‘Who was it?’ Maria had resumed her meal and did not look up, giving Kendrew time to iron out the lines of anger before seating himself opposite.
He had removed his stock to wipe the perspiration from his face. ‘A bloke I know. He’s been looking out for a job for me. Says there might be a chance of one at the factory where he works.’
‘You don’t look very pleased about it,’ observed Maria.
Sep tried to grin as he retied his stock. ‘Oh, well… it’s just that it’s nothing special, I’m afraid. Still, it’s work and I shouldn’t complain.’ He managed to smile more convincingly, whilst inside cursing Nat. ‘Keep your fingers crossed. We’ll soon have you being a housewife.’
Maria was delighted at the prospect and reached into her apron for a handkerchief with which to mop her lips. Her fingers encountered something small and hard. She did not have to examine it to know it was the little tin watch on its piece of frayed elastic. The watch she had been meant to give to Bright but could not bear to part with; it was the only link she had with her boy. Behind the handkerchief her smile turned wistful as she wondered what her son was doing now that Sep had arranged for him to live with somebody on his release from Industrial School. Not stupid, Maria knew there was a possibility of it being lies; she loved Sep, but he could be a crafty devil when he wanted anything. Despite this knowledge, she hadn’t checked up on him. If it was a lie, well… she did not want to know.
* * *
After washing the pots Maria got ready for work, rushing to meet the high tide. With most of her customers drawn from the fishing industry her hours were dictated by the sea. As usual when Maria went out on her evening’s mission, Sep would accompany her. Tonight, though, whilst she was putting on her hat, he threw a furtive glance up and down the street in case the boy was still lurking. From his hiding place behind a stationary cart Nat watched his mother walk away from him, powerless to waylay her. As the couple headed for the docks, he followed at a respectable distance.
St Andrew’s Dock was as busy in the evening as throughout the day. Several more fishing smacks had landed and a host of wenches paraded on the quay, hoping to divest some lusty lad of his wage. Nat dodged in and out of the crowd as his mother and Kendrew appeared to wander aimlessly. When they stopped so did Nat, hiding behind a group of fishermen. When Kendrew left Maria’s side, Nat’s excitement grew – now was his chance. But no, Kendrew had gone only a few paces and was speaking to another man. Nat shrank back to watch as Kendrew’s associate came over to Maria and the pair of them began to walk off together. Would Kendrew go too? No! His enemy sat upon a capstan and lit a pipe. Using the crowd as a shield, Nat took off after his mother. She and the man were walking too fast for him to catch up without running. He was going to lose her! ‘Mam!’
Kendrew saw and heard him at the same instant, leaped up, grabbed him and, almost throttling him in the process, dragged him out of view of his mother behind a wall of crates.
Maria stiffened and looked round, then just as quickly turned her eyes back ahead. It couldn’t be Nat! And if it were whatever would she do? Heart thumping, bile rising to her throat, she linked her arm more tightly with that of the man and hurried on.
A slap across Nat’s cheek preceded Kendrew’s words. ‘Didn’t I warn you what I’d do to you if you showed your face again? Didn’t I say your mother doesn’t want you?’
‘She does! Let me talk to her.’ Nat looked desperately at the crowd, hoping one of its members would help.
Kendrew pinned him against the stack of crates. ‘Let me tell you summat and then let’s decide if you still want to talk to her. All this talk about your father being a prince, I don’t know if she was the one who told you that but if she did it’s rubbish! You never knew him at all, did you?’ Nat didn’t answer. ‘Well, neither did she. I think
you’re old enough to take a bit of plain talking. Your mother’s a whore. Do you know what that is? Aye, you dirty little tyke,’ he saw the look of horror on Nat’s face, ‘I see you know all about it. Well, that saves me having to explain. You know what your mam’s gone off to do with that bloke?’
‘No!’ Nat tried to struggle free.
‘Yes!’ Kendrew shook him. ‘Do you still want to talk to her?’
‘Let go!’ Nat kicked out at him.
‘Do you want to see her?’
‘No!’
Another vicious shaking. ‘And will you come to my house again?’
‘No! Let me go!’
Kendrew threw him aside. Nat fled blindly, pushing between lads and their wenches, bobbers and filleters, barrowboys and deckhands, tearing round corners, not knowing where he was going. Consumed by panic, he ran smack into a tower of crates. They toppled over with a crash and so did Nat, but just as quickly he jumped to his feet and danced upon one of the crates in a fury, jumping hard with both feet, slipping and sliding on the colourful mackerel that belched over the quay, mashing them into the ground, sobbing with rage and shame. When these were destroyed he jumped upon the contents of another crate and another; box after box was mashed to pulp before the owners saw what he was doing and came running to waylay the maniac. Jerked back to his senses by their shouts, Nat fled with the youths in pursuit, but he was tiring and his boots were slippery with fish scales. He skidded on the cobbles, the youths were able to get a better grip with their clogs and closed in on him. He was going to be beaten… then salvation! He saw a gathering of people with their backs to him and pushed his way through the bodies which closed behind him like a wall. The youths tried to battle their way through but were ordered to, ‘Stop pushing in!’ by a heavily built man and so had to stand cursing at the back. Wide-eyed and panting, Nat glanced over his shoulder ready to take flight again, but his pursuers were still arguing to be allowed through.
He turned his frightened gaze on the man and woman at the centre of the crowd who were providing the entertainment. Both were naked from the waist up. For that brief moment Nat forgot his pursuers and goggled at the bouncing breasts as the woman laid into her antagonist – not like a woman with slaps and scratches but like a man with fists, great blood-spurting blows. Her opponent hit back with equal vehemence, not pulling his punches at all. Nat winced as each blow connected but watched in fascination as the woman appeared to be winning! With one last smash the man went down. A united groan arose from those who had bet money on him and the crowd began to thin. Once more Nat saw his hunters and decided the best place to be was beside the woman.
‘Here’s your blouse, Mam!’ He seized the garment from the floor and ran to her. The youths, who had been about to accost him, now had second thoughts. Nat continued the pretence. ‘Let me help you, Mam.’
‘What the hell…?’ The coarse-looking creature with lopped hair shrugged off his attempts to help her on with her blouse and began to lumber away, wiping the blood from her chin with the back of her hand. Nat tagged on, casting a worried eye at the youths who were tailing him.
‘Are we going home now, Mam?’ he asked in a voice loud enough for them to catch, just in case they hadn’t heard the other times.
‘I don’t know who you are but if you don’t stop hanging onto my bloody skirt I’ll fucking well flatten you.’ The woman ignored him then, in order to count her winnings.
Nat fought his natural inhibitions to whisper, ‘Can’t I just walk beside you for a while? Them men are after me.’
‘Suit yourself.’ Coins clinked from one big hand to another. ‘But stop calling me Mam.’
The ploy worked. None of the youths was yet brave enough to confront this hoyden with the news that her son owed them for a hundredweight of ruined mackerel. However, they trailed him for a while, deciding how to approach the problem. To Nat’s dismay the woman did not leave the docks but began negotiations for another fist fight. Once this was underway Nat’s protection was gone. His trackers pounced, determined to take vengeance on his hide. ‘Aagh! Get off, pigs!’ He screamed and tried to wriggle free.
A united roar of horror went up. ‘Oh Christ, who said that? Get the little bastard!’ A man seized one of Nat’s arms. ‘Where the hell are you from, Timbuctoo?’
‘I don’t know what you mean!’ yelled a terrified Nat.
‘Don’t you know it’s bad luck to say – that word – around here? And the bad luck’s yours!’ He raised a fist.
Nat cowered. ‘Sorry! Sorry!’ He could not remember using any curse.
‘Sorry? Sorry’s not good enough! We won’t be able to take the boats out tomorrow with that bad luck hanging over us! You soft little…’
Dozens of growling fishermen were about to join the retribution when a cry went up. ‘Police!’ In a flash everyone on the dock scattered, whether guilty or not. Nat was dropped to his feet and ran with the others, taking the same direction as the fighting woman for she was his only hope of reprieve – though he had to run fast to keep up.
Once they were out of danger, she braked to a masculine plod, never once remarking that Nat was still with her.
The threat gone, Nat relapsed into his normal shyness, and went back to brooding over his mother, asking no questions. There were none from his companion either. All that passed between them was the sound of panting. When she walked Nat merely followed her through the dark and echoing subway, taking a different route to the one he had used earlier until she came to a crumbling tenement building and entered the ground floor apartment. Dull of spirit, he waited for her to shut the door in his face but she left it open; taking this as invitation to follow, he did so.
Besides the fighting woman there was another female in the room, but there was no exchange of greeting between them. The woman, not quite so rough-looking as his unwilling benefactress, eyed Nat and made some jocular comment. The fighting woman growled a reply. Nat, fishing for sympathy, produced tears – which was not hard; all he had to do was think of his mother. Neither woman took the slightest heed, but when Nat’s misery eased and he wiped his eyes there were three plates of bacon on the table. The fighting woman pointed a dirty finger at one, indicating for Nat to sit down, and shoved a plate of bread at him.
The meal was eaten in silence. At the end of it though, the two women began to converse, the fighting woman telling her friend about her evasion of the police. Nat had never heard such swearing from a woman. ‘Bastards! That’s the third frigging time this week. If this carries on I’ll no have to move somewhere else.’ Unexpectedly, she turned on Nat. ‘Where d’you live?’
He shrank at her fierceness. ‘Nowhere.’
‘You must live some-bloody-where, even if it’s on a shitheap.’
He fingered the rim of his plate, not looking at her. ‘I used to live in York but I had to come here to find me mam.’
Uninterested, the woman did not bother to ask if he had found Maria. It saved Nat the pain of an answer.
She narrowed her eyes, then nodded as if coming to a decision. ‘York – that’s where I’ll bloody go! If I remember rightly there’s a race meeting this month. Ought to be able to make a few quid if the bastard police are kind enough to allow it, then be back in time for the Fair.’ Nat hated this place with all his heart and if he was going to be alone in life he would be better off in a town he knew. After a nervous pause, he asked, ‘Can I go with you?’
‘I thought you said you came to find your mam?’ The other woman broke in.
‘I couldn’t find her,’ murmured Nat. ‘I’ll have to go back to York.’ He asked the fighting woman again. ‘Can I come with you?’ Please, please say yes, he begged silently. I need to get away from here.
‘If you want, but I’m not paying your bloody train fare.’
Nat swung his feet beneath the table and looked dejected. ‘I’ve no money.’
‘Hard luck then.’ The fighting woman examined her knuckles which were grazed raw.
‘Poor likkle
sod.’ The other woman went to fetch a bottle of iodine which she dabbed on her friend’s hands to much cursing and ingratitude. ‘He’s lost his mam. Take him with you, Clem – stick him in the trunk if you won’t pay for him.’
‘Why should I be lumbered with him – ow! Is that bloody acid you’re using?’ Clem tugged her hand away.
‘Don’t be such a baby, Clem Giblet,’ scolded her nurse, and tried to dab the cut lip.
‘I’ll give you frigging baby!’ swore the harridan.
Her partner giggled. ‘That’d be a miracle, wouldn’t it? You’d make a lot o’ money out o’ that!’ Ramming the cork back into the bottle with an accompanying squeak, she tried again on Nat’s behalf. ‘Go on, don’t be mean. If you’re going to York anyway it’d be no trouble to stick him in the trunk now, would it?’
Clem Giblet shrugged.
‘That means she’ll take you,’ explained the other to Nat.
Relieved, he settled down to pass the evening with the weird couple. Neither of them bothered to ask his name until it was time to retire.
He was told to bed down on the mat by the fire, though he slept very little, his mind re-enacting the evening’s scenario. Maria had heard him call to her, he was sure of it. Why, why hadn’t she answered? He relived Kendrew’s words. Why d’you think she never told you where she was going? Because she doesn’t want you! Enraged, he threw himself onto his other side trying not to face the truth, but try as he might to evade it the truth kept lapping at his brain and eventually swamped him with its awfulness. Why, why did you leave me, Mam? The last thing he could remember thinking was, I hate you, Mam. I love you but I bloody hate you, and this was the thought with which he faced the following day.
Shoddy Prince Page 14
