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Children Of The Tide

Page 30

by Valerie Wood


  ‘No, you wouldn’t, and neither did Sammi; but her whole future could be affected by this.’

  He nodded. ‘Yes,’ he muttered, ‘I do see. Does she know?’ he asked. ‘About me?’

  ‘Not yet. But she must be told, as must James. He has told her that he no longer thinks that he is the father, so it won’t be long before she puts two and two together. She won’t be pleased, Gilbert, to think that she and James have been duped, especially by a member of family.’ She rose to leave. ‘If I make enquiries about a foster home, it will fuel the rumour about Sammi, so the decision about his future must be yours; but there are two stipulations that I will make. One, that I or someone I nominate will monitor the home, and the other is that James must be told.’

  He clenched his hands together and pressed them to his mouth as he deliberated. ‘Yes. James has suffered enough on my account. There is nothing else for it,’ he muttered.

  She nodded and rose to leave. ‘We won’t betray you to Harriet, Gilbert. Not if we can help it. That decision is between you and your conscience.’

  ‘I don’t know what to do, Sammi.’ Billy watched as Sammi poured the coffee into small white cups. ‘I can’t stop thinking about those children. They refuse to go into the children’s homes, and some of them are quite good places, you know, they’re not all harsh, though they are strict and regimented.’

  ‘I suppose they want to stay together too, do they?’ Sammi looked at her brother over the rim of her cup.

  ‘Yes, brothers and sisters do, but mostly, you know, they need to be directed. They’re quite sharp some of them, they would make good traders or artisans if only someone would teach them.’

  ‘Can I meet them?’ she asked. ‘Only don’t tell Mama; I’m in enough trouble as it is over Adam. He doesn’t belong to James after all,’ she confided. ‘Mama thinks she knows who the father is, but she won’t say, not until she’s sure.’

  ‘Good heavens! I wonder who?’ Billy looked astonished. ‘Does he look like anyone we know?’

  ‘Yes.’ Sammi said grimly. ‘He looks like me.’

  ‘So …?’

  She raised her eyebrows. ‘There appears to have been a terrible mistake, Billy. I can’t say any more than that.’

  He took her down to North Church Side, but the children were not out in the street. ‘They might be sleeping,’ he said. ‘They stay up late begging at the theatres and concerts and sleep during the day. Pity,’ he glanced down the cellar steps, ‘I especially wanted you to meet Jenny. She’s the young girl I told you about. I didn’t choose the right moment though, did I?’ He grinned.

  ‘Hardly,’ Sammi agreed. ‘Mama wasn’t in the mood for discussing any more waifs and strays, let alone bringing one home.’

  They turned away and walked back towards the Market Place, when suddenly they heard screaming. ‘Get tha dirty hands off me!’ a voice was crying. ‘Don’t touch me. I’ll have ’law on thee.’

  ‘It’s Jenny,’ Billy said. ‘Come on!’

  Sammi hurried after him as he ran towards the King William statue, where Jenny was struggling with a man, and a crowd of onlookers were enjoying the scene.

  Billy pushed his way through the crowd and laid his hand on the man’s arm. ‘What are you doing? Leave her alone.’

  The man looked Billy up and down, then released his grip on Jenny. ‘It’s just a bit o’ fun, mister. Nowt else. She’s allus hanging round here, she’s waiting for summat or somebody.’

  ‘I’m not waiting for thee,’ Jenny glared. ‘Nobody puts their hands up my skirt!’

  The man raised his hand threateningly, but before he could do or say anything, Sammi’s parasol was laid across his arm.

  ‘I think you had better go,’ she said coldly. ‘Before I call the constable. I saw you molesting this child and will gladly be a witness in court if necessary.’

  The crowd started to disperse; the fun was over and no-one wanted to be part of any court procedure. The man shrugged and started to walk off. ‘Little bitch!’ he spat at Jenny. ‘Just let me catch thee out here again.’

  They walked back with her to the cellars and Sammi was conscious of Jenny casting surreptitious glances up at her, at her gown and bonnet, then smoothing down her own torn and dirty dress as if to tidy it, and running her fingers through her tangled hair.

  ‘Goodbye, Jenny,’ she said. ‘I hope you’re not bothered again.’

  ‘Thank you, miss.’ Jenny bobbed her knee. She looked at Billy and then again at Sammi. ‘Did – did Master Billy say, did he say about—’ She hesitated.

  ‘Yes?’ Sammi smiled encouragingly.

  She shrugged and looked disappointed. ‘It doesn’t matter.’

  ‘I’ll see you again, Jenny,’ Sammi reassured her. ‘I’ll come and talk to you, if I may?’

  Jenny looked at her with parted mouth and adoring eyes. ‘Oh, yes please, miss. Any time.’

  Sammi and Billy looked at each other as they walked away. ‘Oh dear,’ Sammi said. ‘Whatever are we to do?’

  30

  What Sammi and Billy did was to ask their mother if Sammi could stay over in Hull. She would stay at Billy’s lodgings; Mrs Parker wouldn’t mind in the least, Billy said, and she would call on Harriet, For, Sammi appealed, I would like to become better acquainted with her. Their mother agreed, not least because she was anxious to avoid any questioning by Sammi for the time being, and so she returned home alone and the carriage would return to collect Sammi in two days’ time.

  Sammi called on Harriet that very day, hoping that she was at home, which she was, and therefore justifying her reason for staying, should her mother enquire. Gilbert arrived while she was there and appeared ill at ease, though he put on a show of welcome, and, she thought, seemed relieved when she refused Harriet’s offer that she should stay with them.

  Sammi thanked her and started to explain that Billy had arranged for her to stay in his lodgings, when the doorbell rang and there was Billy himself.

  ‘Mrs Parker is preparing supper now,’ he said. ‘I called to tell her you wished to stay and she’s delighted.’

  ‘Oh, such a pity, Sammi. You could have stayed with us, couldn’t she, Gilbert?’ Harriet was crestfallen. ‘It would have been so nice.’

  ‘Indeed, indeed,’ Gilbert bumbled and Sammi looked at him curiously and promised that next time she was coming to Hull she would write and tell Harriet and would come to stay.

  ‘What they need – the children, I mean – is a sponsor.’ Billy took Sammi’s arm as they walked to his lodgings. ‘They need a place where they can feel at home and learn a trade. We need the help of someone philanthropic, someone with money and influence. Public-spirited enough to see that the way these children live is a disgrace on our society.’

  ‘It’s a pity you are not ten years older, Billy.’ Sammi’s manner was abstracted. ‘If you had made your mark you would be the perfect person for it.’

  ‘Yes.’ He stared straight ahead. ‘It’s what I would like to do.’ He stopped walking and turned to her. ‘It’s what I will do,’ he said emphatically. ‘I will do it, Sammi. But I can’t do it alone. I’ll have to find somebody to help me. But who?’

  ‘You’re serious, Billy?’ She saw the earnest expression on his face. ‘What’s Pa going to say? He’s expecting you to take up his shares in Masterson and Rayner!’

  Billy smiled. ‘Oh, I’ll have to stay for a while to earn my living while I’m planning. But the first thing is to find someone of influence who can help me get started.’

  ‘Gilbert!’ Sammi breathed. ‘He’s the one!’

  ‘What a joke, Sammi,’ Billy laughed. ‘He hasn’t a sou! He’s spending all of his money on his house. Besides, he’s not in the least philanthropic.’

  She shook her head. ‘No. I didn’t mean that.’ She drew her brows together in a frown, then blinked rapidly as if to clear a mist. ‘Gilbert,’ she said, ‘can help us! He’ll know men of influence; there are surely many in the shipping industry?’

  ‘Mm
– yes,’ Billy agreed. ‘But will he? Will he be willing to introduce them?’

  She gave a thin smile. ‘Oh, yes, I’m sure he will. In fact I’m absolutely positive!’

  ‘Gilbert!’ Billy popped his head around Gilbert’s door. ‘Sorry to bother you, but Sammi and I wanted a word with you, but Sammi insists that I say if you are too busy we will call on you at home. We have something to ask you.’

  Gilbert bit on his lip. ‘Erm – what – erm? Well, no, we’d better have a meeting here. I’d rather not bother Harriet.’

  Billy was puzzled. ‘No? She might be interested in what we have to say, Gilbert. She’s a very caring person.’

  ‘No.’ Gilbert was brusque, yet awkward. ‘Ask Sammi to come up.’ He muttered under his breath, ‘We’d better get it over with.’

  Sammi sat in the chair which was offered to her and smiled in a very friendly manner, but Gilbert chose to stand and tapped his fingers on the desk top. ‘We’re sorry to interrupt your busy day, Gilbert,’ she said. ‘But you are the only one we can think of with the answer to our problem.’

  Gilbert sank down onto his chair. ‘All right, Sammi,’ he said wearily, ‘what is it that you want to know?’

  ‘I can’t believe how helpful Gilbert was,’ Billy said for about the third time since the meeting with Gilbert.

  Sammi looked out from the carriage window and nodded thoughtfully. ‘Yes, he was indeed. He couldn’t have been more willing. You’ll let me know what happens if you manage to get an interview with Mr Pearson?’

  He agreed that he would, the minute he heard; he waved her off and went back into the office. Amazing, he thought. I’ve never known Gilbert to be so accommodating and agreeable. And if he can arrange for me to meet the Mayor, Mr Pearson, I’m sure he’s just the person to help.

  Billy had explained to Gilbert that he needed to meet men of business who would give not only of their wealth, but also of their time and experience. ‘For what is wanted,’ he’d said, ‘is a proper charitable trust, and I have neither the experience nor the knowledge to set this up.’

  Gilbert had seemed quite eager to help, and his face broke into wreaths of smiles when he suddenly exclaimed that he knew just the man: Zachariah Pearson, the Mayor of Hull and a great philanthropist. ‘He might not be able to assist personally,’ Gilbert had said, ‘but he will know who to ask. My father knew him well, of course, and I also know him. I’m sure he will agree to meet you, Billy.’ He’d drawn himself up and exhaled a deep breath. ‘I’ll do what I can.’

  Sammi had stood up from her chair and looked him in the eyes. ‘I’m sure that you will, Gilbert. We’re counting on you.’

  He’d lowered his eyes for a second, then raising them, he said softly, ‘You have my word on it, Sammi.’

  ‘Johnson!’ Sammi called up to the coachman as they pulled out of the yard. ‘I have a call to make before we go home.’

  ‘Yes, Miss Sammi. Where to?’

  ‘Will you go down by the Holy Trinity Church? I need to see someone.’

  ‘Aye, miss, all right, though it’ll be busy. I’ll have difficulty getting through ’market.’

  Johnson manoeuvered the carriage through the Market Place, calling to the traders to move their sacks of produce and shouting to the crowd, who were milling around the stalls, to get out of the way. He turned down by the side of the church and went on a few paces before stopping.

  Sammi put her head out of the window. ‘A bit further, Johnson. Near that old warehouse.’

  Johnson drew to a halt and jumped down to open the door. ‘There’s nothing here, Miss Sammi. Who is it you want to see?’

  ‘Someone who lives in these cellars, Johnson. A young girl. I want to see if she’s in.’

  Johnson stared at her. ‘Oh, no miss. I can’t let you do that. What would Mr Rayner say? He’d have my hide.’

  Sammi contemplated. That was perfectly true. Her father trusted Johnson implicitly with his wife and daughters. He would consider that he’d let him down if she should do anything untoward. She couldn’t really compromise him. ‘I suppose you wouldn’t knock on the door either, would you, Johnson?’

  Johnson glanced down the cellar steps to the battered door. ‘No, Miss Sammi. I wouldn’t.’

  ‘Then we’ll just have to sit and wait,’ she said and settled herself back against the cushions. ‘I just hope she isn’t too long.’

  Johnson cast a look of resignation at his young mistress. ‘Ten minutes only, Miss Sammi, and then we’ll have to be off. ’Master’s expecting us back before ’day’s out,’ and climbed back up onto the box.

  Five minutes only had gone by when Sammi became aware of movement behind the door. Gaps between the strips of cardboard became wider, and she could see eyes peering out, then almost before she could blink, the door shifted, opened, then closed just as swiftly, and Jenny appeared at the carriage door.

  ‘Here! What do you want?’ she heard Johnson shout. ‘Get off! We want no beggars.’

  Sammi opened the carriage door and stepped out. ‘It’s all right, Johnson. This is who I was waiting for.’

  Jenny smiled up at her. ‘Hello, miss.’

  ‘Hello, Jenny. I said I would come and see you, didn’t I? I’m on my way home now, but I wanted to say good-bye.’

  ‘Do you live by ’sea, miss, like Master Billy?’

  ‘Yes, I do.’ Sammi scrutinized the girl; her features, though thin, were animated and lively beneath the grime.

  ‘Wish I could see it. ’Sea I mean. Master Billy asked me—’ She stopped and looked away.

  ‘What did he ask you, Jenny?’

  She scoured the dust with her bare toes. ‘He said, would I like to go and live somewhere else – as a maid, I think he said, and I asked ’others if they would mind and they said no they wouldn’t.’ She lifted her gaze to Sammi and blinked. ‘He said he would ask his ma, but maybe he forgot.’

  ‘No, he didn’t forget. But we were on our way to a funeral and our mother said to ask her later.’ Sammi gave a small smile as she thought of her mother’s actual reply. ‘For heaven’s sake, Billy, don’t you think I’ve enough to think of at the moment?’

  ‘Would you like me to ask her?’ she said.

  ‘Oh, yes, miss.’ Jenny’s mouth opened wide. ‘I’ll just get me things,’ and she turned on her heel and shot down the steps.

  ‘But, I didn’t mean – Oh dear!’ Sammi gazed after her. ‘I think she misunderstood me.’

  Johnson got down from the box as Jenny lugged a dirty brown paper bag towards them and a crowd of ragged children crowded behind her.

  ‘You were not thinking of letting the young person ride inside the carriage, were you, Miss Sammi?’ he said firmly. ‘Your mother would not be pleased.’

  ‘Perhaps not, Johnson.’ Sammi hid a smile. Jenny was probably crawling with fleas. Perhaps some of them would blow off, she thought, if she sat on the outside, though Johnson would probably object if he could.

  He helped Sammi back into the carriage. ‘Where do you wish me to take the young person, Miss Sammi?’

  She stared unblinkingly at him. ‘Home, please, Johnson,’ and as he gazed stoically back at her, she added, ‘You’d better not sit too close.’

  31

  When James arrived back in London, his first call was to Mariabella. Mariabella! he breathed. I just can’t wait to see you.

  But she wasn’t there. She’d gone away, her maid told him, she thought to Brighton, she said, when he questioned her; and no, she didn’t know for how long.

  ‘Damn,’ he muttered. ‘What shall I do?’ His mind raced on various possibilities. Should I go to Brighton and look for her? But what if Sinclair is there? Or Romanelli? And the latter possibility bothered him more than the former, for he was still a little unsure of the relationship between her and Romanelli.

  He moped around the studio for a few days and then, because the weather was fine, he took his canvas and went off to the London Docks, where he settled down to paint the busy scene of shipp
ing – of canvas sails flapping, of steamers and their passengers, of porters and their sleds – and soon became engrossed in his subject.

  It was here, three days later, that a shadow fell across his canvas. He didn’t turn around, for passers-by occasionally stopped to look and he knew that eventually they would walk on again; but this time, though the shadow moved so as not to interrupt his light, he was aware that someone was still standing there by his shoulder.

  He turned and squinted up. Romanelli! ‘How good to see you.’ He started to rise, his paint-stained hand held out.

  Romanelli patted his shoulder. ‘Don’t get up, please. I do not wish to disturb you. I was told by Batsford that I might find you here.’

  ‘I’ve finished for now. I was about to stop for a bite to eat. Will you join me? I’ve arranged with one of these fellows to put my canvas in one of the sheds out of harm’s way.’

  Romanelli shook his head in mock despair. ‘One day, James, people will be fighting for your paintings, and you leave them lying around in a shed on the docks!’

  James laughed. ‘It’s a good joke, sir. But I don’t think anyone is likely to steal it; besides the paint is still wet, I can’t carry it with me.’

  Romanelli shook a finger at him. ‘I tell you, James, if I should see such a painting abandoned so, then I should certainly steal it. But still, it is yours to do with as you wish. Come, let us eat.’

  They found a small bar where the porters ate. The ale was strong, the food nourishing and plentiful, and James sat back, replete. ‘I don’t think that I can paint any more today,’ he said. ‘I shall need to walk that off.’

  ‘Then you can walk and observe and absorb all that is happening around you and put it onto canvas another day, yes?’ Romanelli lit a cigar, and through the aromatic smoke regarded James.

  ‘Have you seen anything of Madame Sinclair?’ James ventured. ‘I called on her, but her maid said that she had gone away.’

  Romanelli drew a breath and the tip of the cigar glowed a fiery red. ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘She is in Brighton. I have been there also, I left her only yesterday.’

 

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