A Place Called Home

by Dilly Court

  ‘We will,’ Vicky cried ecstatically. She turned to Lucy with a persuasive smile. ‘May we keep him, Lucy? Please?’

  ‘Of course,’ Lucy said, laughing as the kitten scrambled up Vicky’s arm to nuzzle her cheek. ‘And when he’s fully grown I’m sure he’ll be a good mouser.’

  Bram leaned over and brushed Lucy’s cheek with a kiss. ‘Thank you.’

  ‘What for?’

  ‘Thank you for being a wonderful woman and giving us a home. It was a good day for us when Linus brought you to the cottage in the forest.’

  Hester looked up from stirring a pan of stew on the newly fitted range. ‘It was so, Bram. I don’t know what we’d have done if Lucy hadn’t come to our rescue. I think we’d have ended up in the workhouse.’

  ‘Stop,’ Lucy cried, clapping her hands to her flaming cheeks. ‘You’re making me blush.’

  ‘It’s time I did something for you.’ Bram smiled down at her. ‘Get your bonnet and shawl. I’ve been doing a bit of detective work and I think I’ve found someone who might be able to help you in your search for your grandmother.’

  ‘Really? Who?’

  ‘You told me about the people you knew as a child, and your description of Carlos stuck in my mind. I found him in a pub near the old rag market, and he’ll be there still with a bit of luck. If we’re quick we might catch him.’

  Carlos was seated in the ingle nook with a pint of porter on the table in front of him, and judging by the rosiness of his cheeks it was not his first drink that day. Lucy spotted him through a haze of tobacco smoke and made her way between the crowded tables. ‘Carlos, is it really you?’

  He was considerably plumper than she remembered, and his black hair was now streaked with silver, as was his moustache, which had lost none of its bushiness. He stared up at her with a blank expression. ‘I’m sorry, miss. Do I know you?’

  She sat down opposite him. ‘I’m Lucy Pocket. I’m Eva’s granddaughter.’

  ‘Eva Pocket.’ He smiled tipsily. ‘Now who could forget that woman?’ He narrowed his eyes, peering at her short-sightedly. ‘You’re grown up, but I do recall a little girl with a mass of golden curls and a cheeky face. Is it really you?’

  She smiled and leaned over to pat his hand as it rested on the table top. ‘Yes, I’m Lucy, and I’m searching for my nan. Have you seen her recently?’ She hardly dared to breathe, watching him closely as his slow mental processes mulled over the possible answers.

  He was still thinking when Bram made his way towards them carrying two tankards, which he placed on the table. ‘Is this your man, Lucy?’

  ‘Who are you?’ Carlos demanded, coming back to life with a start. ‘I don’t remember you, cully.’

  ‘This is my friend Bram,’ Lucy said hastily.

  Carlos narrowed his eyes, taking in Bram’s uniform. ‘You’re a hussar,’ he muttered. ‘Good at horsemanship, are you, mate?’

  ‘I can ride well enough. Can I get you a drink?’

  ‘Now that’s uncommon civil of you. I was trained by the great Pablo Fanque; you’ll have heard of him, of course. In my youth I was in his circus troupe.’

  Bram nodded. ‘I know he was a great horseman, but I never saw him perform.’

  ‘He’s been dead these ten years, but he’s still a circus legend.’ Carlos took a swig of his drink. ‘Anyway, ta for asking. I’ll have a pint of porter and a meat pie. Haven’t eaten since breakfast.’

  ‘My pleasure, sir.’ Bram left them and returned to the bar.

  ‘Is he your man, Lucy? Fine fellow, that.’

  ‘He’s just a friend, Carlos. He’s helping me to look for my grandmother. Have you seen her recently?’ Lucy tried to sound unconcerned but her heart was racing.

  ‘Saw her with Abe some time ago. Can’t say when exactly. Memory’s going, Lucy. Old age is catching up with me. You wouldn’t think that once I was a top act at Astley’s.’ He took another sip of his drink. ‘That was before Lord George Sanger bought it, of course. That was a sad day for me, but all those memories are fading into nothing.’

  ‘I’m sorry to hear that,’ Lucy said softly. ‘But you might be able to help me find Eva. Do you know the whereabouts of her friend Abe? Perhaps he can help me?’

  ‘Abe,’ Carlos mused, staring into space. ‘He died some months back. Found in a pool of blood with a knife through the heart. Daresay he deserved it, the old devil. He’ll be stoking the fires of hell for eternity.’

  Lucy stared at him in horror. ‘Do they know who did it?’

  Carlos shook his head. ‘He weren’t a popular fellow. There’s many who will be happy to see the back of him.’ He finished his drink, wiping his mouth on his sleeve. ‘Where’s that young man of yours? I’m starving.’ He took a small comb from his pocket and ran it through his moustache, finishing off the procedure by licking his fingers and twirling the ends into sharp points. ‘Ah, I see him coming. Just in time too. I was about to perish from hunger.’

  Bram wended his way back to them with another pint mug and a pie on a tin plate. ‘There you are, sir. Eat and enjoy.’ He sat down beside Lucy. ‘Any luck?’

  She shook her head. ‘I’m afraid not.’ She pushed the tankard towards Carlos. ‘I’m not keen on beer. You have it, Carlos, and if you should see Eva Pocket, please tell her that Lucy is looking for her. She’ll find me at Pilgrim House, Leman Street.’

  Carlos nodded, rendered speechless as he stuffed pie into his mouth, washing it down with gulps of ale.

  Bram downed his drink. ‘Shall we go, Lucy?’ He pushed back his chair and stood up.

  ‘Yes, there’s no point in staying now.’ Struggling against an overwhelming feeling of disappointment, she rose to her feet and was about to walk away when Carlos caught her by the sleeve. ‘Pearl might know,’ he said thickly. ‘She’s still around.’

  ‘Thank you, Carlos. I’d almost forgotten Pearl.’ Lucy leaned over and kissed his whiskery cheek before hurrying after Bram. She caught him up on the pavement outside. ‘Hairbrine Court,’ she said breathlessly.

  He stared at her as if she had gone mad. ‘What?’

  ‘Hairbrine Court. It’s where Pearl had lodgings. She was Granny’s friend and she might know something.’

  ‘Then that’s where we’ll go. Is it far?’

  ‘No. It’s quite near.’

  The door opened a crack and Lucy could just make out an eye and a mop of untidy brown hair. ‘Who’s there?’

  ‘I’m looking for Pearl Sykes. I believe she lodges here,’ Lucy said boldly.

  ‘Never heard of her.’ The door was about to close but Bram put his foot over the threshold.

  ‘She did live here ten years ago,’ Lucy insisted.

  The door opened to reveal a young, slatternly woman. A small child clung to her dirty skirts and she had a baby hitched over her shoulder like a small sack of washing. ‘Ten years?’ The words came out on a bark of laughter. ‘I was just a nipper then. How d’you expect me to remember that far back?’

  ‘You lived here ten years ago?’ Lucy put her foot on the top step.

  ‘What’s it got to do with you?’ The baby began to wail and the woman jiggled it up and down as if she were shaking a bottle of medicine.

  ‘Does Mrs Wicks still own the property?’ Lucy eyed her hopefully.

  The toddler took her thumb from her mouth and began to hiccup. ‘Shut up, Nellie.’

  The irate woman was about to slam the door but Bram was too quick for her and he crossed the threshold. ‘We’re only asking for information, ma’am,’ he said, doffing his cap. ‘It’s a family matter and very important to the young lady.’

  The woman gazed up at him and her hand flew to her hair in an attempt to pat it into place. ‘Well, sir, if you put it like that, then yes,’ she said, simpering and fluttering her pale eyelashes. ‘I was born and raised here. Ma runs a respectable lodging house.’

  Lucy stepped inside. ‘Then you must be Mrs Wicks’s daughter.’

  ‘Who’s asking?’

  ‘L
ucy Pocket. And you are Mrs . . .?’

  ‘Miss Molly Wicks. Not that it’s any of your business.’

  ‘May I see your mother? She’s bound to remember Pearl, and she might be able to tell me where to find her.’

  Molly Wicks looked from one to the other, her expression changing subtly when she gazed at Bram and her pale cheeks flushed a delicate pink. ‘Well, if it’s so important I suppose Ma won’t mind the intrusion. Follow me.’ Hitching the baby over her shoulder and dragging Nellie by the hand, she set off along the passage towards Mrs Wicks’s rooms at the back of the building. Lucy wrinkled her nose. The stench of the outside privy and the smell of boiled cabbage, rotten fish, soot and smoke took her back to the fateful day when Sir William came to claim her. The light was poor in the passageway but Lucy could just make out the peeling wallpaper, which hung like broken blisters from the walls. Jagged cracks ran from ceiling to floor and the exposed brickwork was blackened with mould. It was a wonder, she thought, that the house was still standing. She had to jump a gap in the floorboards, and a lump of plaster fell from the ceiling, narrowly missing Bram’s head.

  ‘This is more dangerous than the Khyber Pass,’ he whispered, chuckling.

  Molly opened a door at the far end of the hallway. ‘Ma, you’ve got visitors.’ She stood aside. ‘She’s a bit deaf so you’ll have to shout.’ She thrust the baby into Lucy’s arms. ‘Hold him for a minute, will you? I got to go for a piss or I’ll wet me drawers.’ She shoved the small child into the room. ‘Stay there, Nellie, and don’t snivel. You know it makes Granny cross.’ She pushed past Bram and Lucy, heading towards the door which led into the back yard.

  Lucy held the baby at arm’s length. ‘He’s sodden,’ she whispered. ‘And he stinks.’

  ‘Who’s there?’ A quavering voice emanated from the depths of an armchair by the empty grate. ‘Is that you, Moll?’

  Bram pulled a face. ‘You’d best deal with this, Lucy. I don’t want to scare the old girl.’

  ‘If it’s the Mrs Wicks I remember, the devil himself wouldn’t frighten her.’

  ‘Who’s that talking? I ain’t deaf, despite what she says. Come close where I can see you.’

  The baby began to whimper, working himself up into a full-blown howl. Despite his soggy clothing and the strong odour, Lucy held him close as she approached the chair. ‘I don’t suppose you remember me, Mrs Wicks. I’m Lucy Pocket.’

  Hooded eyes stared from a face that was wrinkled and brown like a walnut. ‘Can’t say I do. If it’s money you want, you’re out of luck. I ain’t got none.’

  ‘It’s not like that, Mrs Wicks. I’m looking for someone who used to lodge with you. Pearl Sykes, do you remember her?’

  ‘I ain’t senile, young woman. Of course I remember her, the slut. I had to keep a close watch on that one or she’d have had men in her room all hours of the day and night. Smoked like a chimney, she did. It’s a wonder she didn’t burn me house down.’

  Lucy rocked the baby in an attempt to stop him crying. ‘Does she still live here?’

  ‘What are you doing with young Arthur? Where’s Moll? I want me dinner.’

  ‘She popped outside for a moment, Mrs Wicks. She’ll be back directly.’

  ‘I’m a prisoner in me own home.’ Mrs Wicks leaned forward, lowering her voice. ‘She’s trying to kill me. Poisons me food. I have to feed it to the cat first to make sure I won’t die in agony. Where is that girl?’

  Lucy was growing desperate. ‘Do you know where I can find Pearl?’

  ‘Last I heard of her she was living over the broomstick with the landlord of that pub she used to work at. His wife died and Pearl was in his bed afore the coffin left the house, or so I heard.’ Mrs Wicks pursed her lips. ‘I’m not one to gossip.’

  ‘Thank you, Mrs Wicks.’ Lucy turned to Bram with a gasp of relief. ‘I know that place. I went there once with Pearl and it’s not far from here.’ She cuddled the baby but he refused to be comforted.

  ‘The poor little bugger’s hungry too,’ Mrs Wicks said gloomily. ‘Molly’s took to the drink since her man up and left. I told her not to get in bed with a married man, but she wouldn’t listen. She’s a wild ’un, and no better than she should be, even if she is me own flesh and blood. That baby suckles more gin than it does milk.’

  Lucy stared down at the baby’s red face and gaping mouth, and experienced a surge of pity for the neglected infant. She looked up at Bram but he shook his head.

  ‘Don’t even think about it, Lucy. You’ve got enough to do with my family, let alone those two orphans you took in. You can’t look after all the waifs and strays in London.’

  She was about to protest when Molly burst into the room, snatching the baby from Lucy’s arms. ‘He ain’t no waif, mister. Keep your hands off me child, Miss Hoity-toity.’

  Lucy glanced ruefully at the damp patch on her bodice. ‘I think he needs changing and he’s ready for his feed,’ she said mildly. ‘He’s a fine boy, Molly.’

  ‘And he’s mine.’ Molly clutched the child to her bosom, smothering his cries. ‘If you’ve got what you wanted you’d best get out. You’re upsetting Ma.’

  ‘She’s trying to poison me,’ Mrs Wicks said gloomily. ‘One day the police will come and find me stretched out on the floor, dead as a doornail.’

  ‘Shut up, Ma.’ Molly unbuttoned her blouse and put the baby to her breast. ‘That shut the little sod up. Now get out, both of you.’

  Bram put his hand in his pocket and brought out a florin, which he pressed into her outstretched palm. ‘That’s for your trouble, ma’am.’

  She gave him a broken-toothed smile. ‘You’re a toff, captain.’

  ‘Spend it on food,’ he said sternly. ‘It’s for all of you, including your ma.’

  Lucy made a move towards the door. ‘We must go now, but thank you for the information.’

  Mrs Wicks whistled through a gap in her teeth. ‘She’s come up in the world. I do remember her now. Skinny little thing she were, dressed in rags and dirty as a sweep’s boy. Don’t come here putting on airs and graces, miss. Get off with you both.’

  Lucy hurried from the room and did not stop until she was outside. Bram caught her up, stopping briefly to put his cap on. ‘Where now, Lucy?’

  Chapter Twelve

  THE NEW LANDLORD of the Old Three Tuns was tight-lipped when asked questions about the former tenants. He said he had been in residence for two years and the affairs of his predecessor were nothing to do with him. The potman was more forthcoming, and although he did not know Pearl’s address he said she had parted from her lover and the last he had heard of her she was working in a pub in Limehouse.

  After supper that evening, Lucy and Bram sat at the kitchen table, talking over the events of the day. Peckham lay sleeping on a rug by the range, his aged limbs twitching occasionally and his teeth bared, as if he were chasing rats in his dreams. Hester had retired to her room, having cooked a hearty stew with suet dumplings, followed by spotted dick and custard. Sid and Essie had gobbled their food like hungry hounds, earning a rebuke from Hester and a warning from Bram that they would suffer bellyache if they did not slow down. Lucy had watched indulgently; it made her happy to see the improvement in them, even though they had been with her for less than a week. Their pinched faces had plumped out and there was colour in their cheeks. Most important of all they had lost their hunted look, and did not jump and hide beneath the table at every knock on the door.

  Sid had formed an attachment to Bertie, following him around with dog-like devotion, and Vicky had taken Essie under her wing, bossing her about in a good-natured way, which Essie seemed to enjoy. Maggie clung to Hester, and Lucy suspected that she had suffered the most after losing her mother. It was something with which she could empathise entirely.

  ‘So what next?’ Bram reached across the table to hold Lucy’s hand. ‘You know that I have to return to the barracks in two days’ time. I wish I could stay longer.’

  She smiled and squeezed his fingers. �
�It’s been wonderful having you here to help me over this difficult time, but I understand. You’re a soldier and you have to do your duty.’

  ‘Not for much longer if I have my way. I’ve had enough of army life, and it’s rumoured that the buying and selling of commissions is about to end. I need to find a buyer quickly, or it’ll be too late.’

  ‘But what will you do then? And won’t Linus want his money back? I find it hard to believe that he bought it for you out of the kindness of his heart. I’m not even sure that he has one.’

  ‘He did it to get rid of me because I was growing up and becoming a serious threat. I was sick of the way he treated my sister, and he knew it.’

  ‘But why go to those lengths, Bram? It must have cost him a fortune.’

  ‘He knew I wouldn’t enlist in the normal run of things, and I suppose he hoped that as a cavalry officer I stood a good chance of being killed in action. He’d get his money back then because my commission could be sold on.’

  ‘I knew he was a hateful man, but that is so calculating and cruel.’

  ‘Well, it didn’t work. I survived my time in India, and now my regiment is back home, I can sell up without disgracing the family name.’ He grinned. ‘Such as it is.’

  ‘You’ll always have a home here with us, but how will you earn your living?’

  He removed his hand, running it through his thick mop of sun-streaked hair. ‘I haven’t decided yet. Maybe I’ll get Carlos to coach me so that I can follow in his footsteps and become a trick rider at Sanger’s Amphitheatre.’

  ‘Are you serious?’

  ‘I can think of worse ways to earn a living, but I’m a resourceful chap. I’ll think of something.’ He gave her a searching look. ‘But what about you, Lucy? Are you going to be content letting out rooms and looking after other people’s children?’