Shoddy Prince

by Sheelagh Kelly

  ‘I didn’t steal it!’

  ‘Now did I say ye did?’

  ‘It’s wages.’

  ‘For what? I thought you told Mr Maguire ye didn’t get the job.’

  ‘I did, but it didn’t last very long.’ Nat omitted to say just how long and Mrs Maguire knew better than to ask.

  ‘Ye’ve run away again, haven’t ye?’ Bright’s mother couldn’t look stern, although she tried. Nat hung his head. ‘Oh, don’t fret! Eat your porridge, I haven’t time for explanations now, the rabble will be up shouting for their breakfast any second.’ Already she could hear the creak of upstairs floorboards.

  Nat shoved the money across the table, keeping only a few pence back for himself. ‘Take it, then I won’t feel so bad.’

  ‘Get along with ye, I can’t take all that! Keep some for yourself.’

  ‘I don’t need it.’ Nat’s refusal was made easier by the knowledge that he still had his cache hidden here from before his incarceration.

  ‘Indeed you do, if only to buy yourself a razor. Look at the whiskers on ye. My word, you’ve changed since last you were here.’

  Nat touched his upper lip self-consciously as, in dribs and drabs the rest of the family appeared for breakfast. Mary and Eilleen first, then Martin who, at twenty-three, was the eldest son at home now. ‘Mr Maguire would have told ye that Gabriel was married last year, did he not?’ queried Mrs Maguire. ‘Aye, and Thomas is gone for the priesthood.’ She gave a proud nod. ‘These two are doing well at the ironworks.’ Eugene and Patrick seated themselves, giving only a cursory nod to Nat. None of them had seemed surprised that he was here. One by one they departed for work. Bright had still not risen. Curious, Nat finally enquired as to her whereabouts.

  Mrs Maguire smiled. ‘Ah, won’t herself be delighted to see ye! I let her stop in bed till the others have gone. She hasn’t so far to go as them an’ ye know how cramped it is at this table – why, here she is now.’

  Bright was stunned to see him and apparently embarrassed, for she turned crimson.

  Nat was quite astounded too. Bright had altered even in the few months since she had last visited. She was much taller and… rounder. His eyes fell on her breasts. She pulled her navy-blue cardigan over them and came to the table, offering only a smile and, ‘Hello!’

  Nat mumbled a greeting and waded through his third dish of porridge.

  ‘What d’ye think to this one?’ Mrs Maguire put a bowl before her daughter. ‘Hasn’t he grown?’

  Bright smiled and nodded, then began to eat. Far from injecting her with even more confidence than she already possessed, the change from girl to woman seemed to have had the opposite effect, at least in Nat’s company. She yearned to examine those dark good looks more closely, but this idiotic shyness allowed her eyes to dart only as far as Nat’s sinewed hands that cupped the porridge bowl. Instead of a little boy’s presence there was now a man’s. True, she had been gripped by this transformation on the last couple of occasions she had visited him, but here in her own home it unsettled her even more.

  ‘First time I’ve known you lost for words,’ said her mother. ‘Oh, of course I’m forgetting you’ve seen a lot more of him these last two years than I have. Ye never told me how much he’d altered.’

  How would I put it into words, thought Bright, her eyes fixed on the porridge.

  ‘By the way, will ye be taking your dinner to school or coming home?’

  ‘Coming home.’ Bright had only just decided this on finding Nat here.

  ‘You’re still at school?’ Nat was incredulous. His friend was the same age as him, fourteen years old.

  ‘Why, didn’t she tell ye?’ cried Mrs Maguire. ‘Our Bright has been accepted as a pupil teacher. Isn’t that grand?’

  Bright had deliberately withheld the news of her achievement at her last visit and warned her father not to say anything either. The gulf between herself and Nat was wide enough. Without looking up, she gave a diffident laugh. ‘Nat never liked school. He won’t reckon much to me being a teacher.’

  He surprised her. ‘It’s good for you, though – I mean it’s what you wanted, isn’t it? To be a teacher.’ Then, quickly, he lowered his head and worked his spoon around the bowl to catch every last bit of porridge.

  Bright dared to lift her eyes and caught a glimpse of the boy within the man; Nat’s hair still fell in that dark uncontrollable curtain over his eyes. ‘Well, I’m not a proper teacher yet…’

  ‘Ye teach a classful o’ children don’t ye?’ contradicted her mother.

  ‘Only the younger ones.’

  ‘Even so! If that isn’t being a proper teacher I don’t know what is. Do you, Nat?’

  Bright wished her mother would shut up. All this talk about education would surely add to the strain on her friendship with Nat – he had sworn that he would never marry a teacher. ‘Well, yes but, I’m only an apprentice. I still have a lot of exams to pass, and years of training ahead of me.’

  ‘Well, if it were me doing all that hard work,’ answered Mrs Maguire, ‘I’d be claiming a bit o’ credit. Don’t you take no notice, Nat. Sure, we’re all very proud of her.’

  Bright took a quick mouthful of porridge, then gave a self-conscious little smile. ‘Well, I don’t know about that. Me father thinks I’m mad.’

  ‘Ah well, and so he does,’ confirmed Mrs Maguire to Nat with a smile to show she was joking. ‘Tis a good thing she’s the last of the brood. With the others all having proper jobs, as Mr Maguire puts it, then he can afford to indulge his favourite.’

  Under constant scrutiny from Nat, Bright’s tentative mannerisms persisted throughout breakfast and even more so when it was time to leave the table, feeling him watching her every move as she brushed her hair in the mirror over the fireplace. Unaware that his observation was so blatant, Nat continued to examine the girl. Bright was a lot tidier these days. Her hair was glossed back and held with a tartan ribbon. Instead of a grubby pinafore she wore a fitted dress that ended three inches below her black stockinged knees, and proper women’s shoes replaced the ungainly boots of old. His eyes ran up and down her body again, stirring natural instincts. Embarrassed, he turned back to his empty dish and placed his hands over his lap, attempting to think of other things besides breasts. ‘I think I might go for a wander round town this morning.’

  ‘Going to meet up with those pals o’ yours ye mean,’ corrected Mrs Maguire.

  Why does she have to see right through me, thought Nat, and shrugged as though this had not been his intention at all. ‘Never heard anything of ’em for years.’

  ‘Before ye go would ye fill that coal bucket for me?’ asked Mrs Maguire.

  ‘Aye, in a minute.’ Nat was waiting for the bulge in his trousers to deflate. ‘I’ll just get warmed through.’

  ‘Sorry, am I keeping the fire off ye?’ Bright jumped away from the mirror.

  ‘No, no, that’s all right.’ Nat hardly dared look at her now.

  ‘I’ve finished anyway, I’m off to school. Will I see you at dinnertime?’ She wrapped a shawl around herself.

  ‘Er, might do…’

  ‘Might’s not good enough,’ cut in Mrs Maguire. ‘I’m not cooking a meal to be wasted.’

  ‘All right, I’ll see you at teatime,’ answered Nat.

  Bright showed a flicker of disappointment, then made for the door. ‘Bye, then.’

  After she had gone Nat brought in the coal, then put on his cap and tied the blanket round him.

  ‘Hey!’ Mrs Maguire counted out some of the coins he had given her. ‘Take off that wretched thing and buy yourself a decent coat. I’m not having anybody in this house going round like John the Baptist. Sure, I can’t think why ye have to be told when ye had all this money yourself.’

  Nat pocketed the cash, around ten shillings in all. ‘Thought I might need it for something more important.’ Having a sudden idea, he folded up the blanket. ‘Shall I put this upstairs?’

  ‘Oh, you’ve decided to stop with us then?’ />
  He looked humble. ‘If you’ll have me.’

  Mrs Maguire winked. ‘Go on! You know where you’ll be sleeping.’

  Bounding upstairs, Nat deposited the blanket on the floor and lifted a rug. The piece of floorboard was still without nails. Taking out his knife he prised at the wood. His cache was intact. Satisfied, he replaced board and rug, then went back downstairs, shouting, ‘Bye!’

  Visiting the first shop he came across in Walmgate he purchased a secondhand overcoat. It made him look older but his cap devalued the effect so he bought a hat too, then remembering his childhood ambition he asked if the man had a tie. Thus kitted out he went into town, with just about enough money left to purchase a cheap razor.

  Gunner did not recognize him as their paths coincided at the top of Fossgate. Nat had to repeat his salutation before the boy showed any recognition. They had both matured but Gunner was five inches taller and with his big frame seemed to tower over Nat, looking much older than fourteen. His responses, though, were still those of a child. ‘Ooh, look at the toff!’ He patted the other’s hat. ‘You must have a good job.’

  Nat resented the patronizing attitude and adjusted his headgear. ‘I had one, but it wasn’t that good. I prefer to work for meself so I chucked it in. Is this what you do then?’ He flicked a rather contemptuous hand at the broom with which Gunner had been sweeping the roads until Nat’s arrival.

  Gunner showed no embarrassment. ‘Aye, this is it.’ He gave a few half-hearted sweeps then went back to leaning on the broomhandle.

  Cold was seeping through the soles of Nat’s boots. He began to stamp his feet. ‘Seen anything of the others?’

  ‘I’m meeting them tonight as a matter o’ fact. Apart from Rodge o’ course…’

  ‘Aye, poor old Rodge.’

  ‘Come an’ join us.’

  ‘All right.’ Nat hopped from one foot to the other. ‘Look, I’ll have to get moving, Gunner, this is freezing my balls off.’

  ‘Oh, grown some, have you?’

  ‘Same place, is it?’

  ‘No, we’re meeting at the river camp. Some buggers pinched our HQ while you were away.’ Outnumbered by the enemy they had been unable to seek revenge for this audacity. ‘But now you’re here we’ll have enough men to drive ’em out. I haven’t had a good fight in ages.’

  ‘See you tonight then.’ Nat moved on.

  It was too cold to wander the streets for long with no company. Nat went home, thereby incurring Mrs Maguire’s displeasure.

  ‘Didn’t you say ye wouldn’t be in till teatime?’

  ‘It doesn’t matter if there’s no dinner for me.’ He sat by the fire and rubbed his hands whilst the others finished their meal. ‘I only came back for a warm.’

  ‘He can have this, I can’t eat it all.’ Bright was delighted that she would have ten minutes with her friend before it was time to return to school.

  ‘There’s no need for you to starve,’ answered her mother. ‘I’ve made enough for everyone, but only ’cause I know what some people are like. I just wish they’d say what they mean! Sit ye down.’ A grateful Nat joined the diners.

  ‘Did ye see anything of your pals?’ asked Mrs Maguire.

  ‘One of ’em,’ answered Nat. ‘I’m seeing the others tonight.’

  He tucked into his meal, unaware of the disappointment he had inflicted on Bright.

  Nat spent the rest of the day by the fireside, only tearing himself away in order to shave the down from his upper lip. When he left the house again he took a winter-warmer with him, though it had little effect on the freezing cold riverbank. However, it was good to be with the gang again after such a long absence and there was plenty of laughter as Nat related his experiences in Marygate, concluding with the episode of the horses’ tails. Afterwards it was time to hear their news. Denzil had a job in a slaughter-house. Spud worked in a chocolate factory and Gunner, as he already knew, swept the city’s gutters. The time went too quickly. After such long confabulation, the general opinion was reached that it was too late to launch an attack on their former HQ tonight. ‘I have to be in by half past nine.’ Spud rose from his heels and spent a moment or two rubbing his cold knees. ‘Anyroad, I still don’t think there’s enough of us to take ’em on.

  Even Denzil agreed. ‘Aye, an’ it’s bloody freezing.’

  ‘Aw, I were looking forward to a good scrap,’ complained Gunner.

  ‘Tell you what,’ said Denzil, ‘I’ll bring you a rice pudding tomorrow, you can try and knock the skin off that.’

  Gunner blushed at the laughter and made ready to depart.

  ‘Thanks for not spragging on us, Nat,’ offered Spud before moving away.

  ‘I wondered when anybody was going to mention that.’ Nat trailed after them.

  ‘Well, you don’t expect any medals d’you?’ exclaimed Denzil. ‘It’s only right you don’t give your partners away. If anybody ever spragged on me I’d rip their guts out.’

  All went home and met again the following night to compare more tales, but once these dried up there was little to do. Hence it was suggested that they did not meet up again until the thaw, a piece of news that gladdened one particular maiden’s heart. Despite the atrocious weather Nat managed to find employment of one kind or another and if there were no odd jobs then there was always scrap to be collected. However, his preferred occupation would always be romping with the gang and to Bright’s dismay when summer came round again the old comradeship was resumed on a regular footing.

  This balmy Friday evening found Nat, Gunner and Spud congregated on the riverbank, trying to light a fire on which to bake some potatoes, using two sticks and a piece of string.

  ‘Wish Rodge was here,’ Nat cursed, and blew at the puny wisp of smoke they had created.

  ‘Aye, not just for the fire-lighting neither,’ voiced Spud. ‘We’ve still got to get our HQ.back.’ Aware of another’s presence he glanced up from his labours expecting to see Denzil, but it was a well-dressed boy who seemed to be paying a lot of attention to the proceedings.

  ‘What you gegging at?’ demanded Spud.

  The yellow-haired boy in the Norfolk jacket and knickerbockers murmured something.

  Gunner looked up too and frowned. ‘What did he say?’

  Nat continued to rub his sticks together. ‘It sounded like, “fack orf”.’ How elegantly the abusive phrase was delivered from well-spoken lips, thought Nat.

  His large companion rose with a growl and strutted over to the boy on the balls of his feet. ‘What did you say to us?’

  Unflinchingly, the stranger repeated his offering.

  ‘I’m gunner thump you,’ came the response.

  Polite insolence from the boy in the white collar: ‘It’s a free country.’ He turned to the others, whose efforts had so far come to nothing. ‘I can light your fire if you want me to.’

  Gunner poked him in the chest. ‘Don’t think you can escape a bashin’ as easy as that.’

  The boy remained cool. ‘Bash me if you can,’ he challenged with the superior air of one who is used to dealing with menials.

  Nat grew tired of Gunner’s posturings. ‘Oh shut up! Let him light the fire if he wants.’

  The boy had some matches and soon had the fire going. Nat shoved a number of potatoes around the edges.

  ‘What’s your name?’ asked Spud.

  Brown eyes glanced up at him. ‘Noel Scaum.’

  ‘How old are you?’

  ‘Fifteen – is this a gang?’ When told it was he added, ‘Can I be in it?’

  ‘You can for me,’ said Nat, who admired the newcomer’s rich appearance and what he represented – though the self-assured attitude was irksome.

  ‘It isn’t your say-so,’ warned Spud. ‘You’ll have to wait for Denzil.’ Their leader was late tonight, probably been kept in by his mother, but no one would dare taunt him with this.

  Noel asked, ‘Who’s Denzil?’

  ‘He’s our leader,’ informed Gunner. ‘Anyway, what does a toff
like you want to join us for?’

  Noel was about to explain that he had plenty of friends of his own kind but they never wanted to do anything more exciting than torment the servants. However, just then he saw a bandy-legged boy shambling down the riverpath. He laughed and pointed. ‘I say, look at him!’

  Spud growled a warning under his breath, ‘That’s Denzil,’ but it didn’t have much effect.

  Noel was either very foolhardy or just plain crazy. As the bowlegged youth neared he sniggered, ‘Pity he’s only got two of those legs – two more and we could make a nice Queen Anne table out of him.’

  Denzil proffered an evil scowl, but said nothing. Noel was not afraid; the others were. Allergic to violence, Nat made the hasty recommendation, ‘He can light a good fire! Shall we let him be in our gang? What about his initiation?’

  Denzil’s pale eyes studied him for a moment, before their owner declared that the first part of the ceremony would be held in abeyance. ‘I can’t think of anything for him to do yet. We’ll just carry out the second part for now.’

  Nat could not bring himself to urinate on that beautiful suit. ‘I’ve just been, I can’t do owt.’ The others had no such qualms, drenching Noel, then rolling him in the mud and eventually throwing him into the river. But whilst they stood back laughing, Denzil prevented Noel from getting out. The yellow-haired boy swam a little further along the bank, but Denzil went with him and nudged him back into the water. He kept shoving him back until the exhausted boy panted, ‘Please let me get out, I’m going to drown.’ Calmly, Denzil pushed him back again.

  ‘Let him out now, Denz,’ advised a worried Nat.

  Without warning Denzil flew at him, punching and hitting uncontrollably whilst Nat could only curl up like a hedgehog and hope to come out without serious injury. Meanwhile the others were helping Noel from the water. Denzil’s temper ran out as quickly as it started but he was left with that wild look that so frightened the other boys. ‘Right, I’ve thought of something he can do!’

  Noel was still trying to recover his breath. ‘Can I do it another time? I’ll have to go home and change.’