Custard Tarts and Broken Hearts

by Mary Gibson

  ‘Dad made me promise to keep it.’ He turned his face away, looking down at the machine. ‘We lost the bike shed when we had to move out of Globe Buildings – it was a tied place, from Wright’s seed mill. I’ve been storing it here and doing it up in me spare time.’

  ‘I wonder why he made you promise to keep it?’

  Sam sat down in the straw, laying the penny-farthing down between them. His voice took on a wistful tone as he remembered his father.

  ‘It was a lucky charm for him. He always said it changed his life. They didn’t have much up north, nearly ended up in the workhouse, but the bike got him down here and he finished up foreman at Wright’s Mill. It was a good job.’ Sam fell silent.

  ‘How long’s he been dead now, Sam?’ Nellie asked gently. She had guessed this was the reason for the family losing their tied accommodation.

  ‘Only last year. It was the job did it in the end. All those years in the seed mill – chaff and dust ruined his lungs. Still, he was just glad he’d made something of his life, and he thought this old thing would bring me luck.’

  Sam spun the wheel between them and Nellie absently let her fingers trail over the spokes, filling the hay barn with a sad harp-like thrumming.

  ‘Can you ride it?’ she asked suddenly.

  Sam smiled again. This time, there was more mischief in it than melancholy, and without a word he righted the penny-farthing and scooted it towards the open door.

  Nellie followed, in time to see him hopping on to the back mounting bar. He hooked his leg over the saddle and was off, in a smooth roll, down to the end of the yard, where he executed a tight turn, wobbled, and, to Nellie’s delight, was back with her in two pedal strokes. He hopped off, looking very pleased with himself.

  She was seized with an overwhelming urge to try it herself. ‘Can I have a go?’

  Sam looked doubtful. ‘Oh, I dunno about that!’

  Nellie, disappointed, wondered at the irony of Sam Gilbie saying no to her!

  ‘Come on, Sam, I need cheering up. I’ve just been chucked out of me home!’

  Sam soon relented and helped her up. He kept a tight hold of the saddle as she mounted inelegantly and then wobbled her way down the yard. After a circuit with Sam trotting at her side she was getting more confident.

  ‘Let go, let go!’ she hissed, as quietly as she could. ‘I can do it on me own!’

  Sam looked worried but Nellie showed no signs of getting down, so he released his hold on the saddle and soon she was pedalling for all she was worth, back towards the double doors.

  ‘Brake, Nellie, brake!’ Sam warned in a stage-whisper. If she hit the double doors, the whole of Vauban Street would be awake soon enough.

  ‘The brake! Where’s the bloody brake?’ she hissed back. She fumbled about, around her skirt, and just in time found the lever for the spoon brake. Coming to a juddering halt, she almost toppled over the handlebars but recovered, just as Sam leaped forward to grab the teetering machine.

  ‘Are you laughing at me?’

  Sam shook his head, smiling. ‘There’s not many people would celebrate being homeless with a penny-farthing ride. But then again, there’s not many people like you, Nellie Clark.’

  She got flustered by his admiration and jumped off the bike. ‘Let’s hope I’m as good at finding somewhere to live, eh?’

  ‘Well, you can’t sleep here. You’d best come home with me for tonight.’

  Nellie shook her head vigorously. ‘No, no, no, I’m not going anywhere with you. I’m staying put.’

  ‘Well, it would only be for tonight. We haven’t got much room, and anyway…’ He hesitated. ‘Mum’s not so good at the moment. You can share with my sister, Matty. I’m not leaving you here on your own.’

  Nellie could tell he wouldn’t budge and in the end she agreed. Sam put the penny-farthing back in its hiding place behind the straw bales and they set off towards Rotherhithe, where he lived. As they walked along the riverbank, he carried her bundle of clothing and proudly related more tales of his father’s bicycling exploits. He’d won many trophies for the Bermondsey Bicycle Club, but when shortness of breath put an end to his cycling days, he’d refused to get rid of the penny-farthing.

  ‘Mum used to go off alarmin’ at him ’cause we had to pay for the bike shed as well, but he wouldn’t part with it. That’s my fortune, he used to say, and it’ll be Sam’s one day too. Poor Dad, he never did earn a fortune, and if I stay a carman I don’t suppose I shall either.’

  Nellie had begun to warm to the boy, who had for so long been an irritant, and in spite of her own sorry situation she wanted to encourage him. ‘Well, there’s more churches than Christ Church and there’s more than one sort of good fortune. He had a loving son, like you, one that’s kept his promise, and that’s something to be proud of, eh?’

  Sam nodded silently, the dark river gliding on beside them as they made their way round the winding peninsula of Rotherhithe.

  When they finally reached the little house in Beatson Street, Nellie could barely walk straight, she was so tired. Sam lived in a two-up, two-down between the river and Globe Dock, with his mother, Lizzie, his younger brother, Charlie, and his little sister, Matty. A lamp was burning in the window and the end-of-terrace door was opened so quickly, it was obvious someone had been looking out for him. A dark-haired boy, of about ten, ushered them in; Nellie was surprised he wasn’t already in bed.

  ‘Nellie, this is my brother, Charlie. The little boy smiled briefly at Nellie, accepting her unknown presence without question.

  Turning worried, dark eyes to Sam, he whispered, ‘She’s been terrible bad today.’

  Sam ruffled his dark, wavy hair and led the way into the little front room.

  In spite of the warmth of the night, a fire was burning in the grate and a pale-faced woman was sitting next to it, wrapped in a shawl, with a blanket covering her legs. She looked up weakly and smiled at Sam. Then her face suddenly came to life with curiosity as she spotted Nellie following.

  She attempted to rise a little, but the effort proved too much for her and she sank back.‘Sam, you should have told me you were bringing company. Introduce me to your friend.’

  She smiled encouragingly, and Sam half pushed Nellie forward, quickly explaining the situation.

  Just then a little girl, of about eight or nine, came in from the back kitchen and flung herself at Sam. He lifted her up, planting a kiss on her cheek, but when she spotted Nellie her pretty face scowled.

  ‘Who’s that?’ she said baldly.

  ‘Matty, remember your manners.’ Her mother’s weak voice still had enough steel in it to bring the little girl to book.

  She blushed. ‘Sorry,’ she said, looking appealingly for rescue to Sam, who now put her down and placed a hand on top of her soft auburn curls. She was an exceptionally pretty child, with large dark eyes, filled with a restless curiosity.

  ‘Nellie, this is my little sister Mathilda, but we all call her Matty.’

  ‘Sorry, but there’s only enough dinner for Sam,’ Matty addressed Nellie, with a worried frown, ‘and I’ve been keeping it hot for him, ain’t I, Mum?’

  The weary woman sitting by the fire nodded proudly.

  Nellie felt her heart go out to the anxious child. She knew, only too well, the situation she was in. Crouching down to Matty’s level, she took her hand and apologized for spoiling all her well-laid plans.

  ‘I don’t want to be any trouble. Anyway,’ she lied, ‘don’t you worry about me, Matty, I’ve already had me dinner ages ago!’

  If she was going to be sharing the child’s bed, Nellie thought it best to make friends. She was keen to avoid the sharp elbows and knees of a disgruntled eight-year-old digging into her all night. But as soon as the child realized her beloved brother would not be robbed of his tea, she smiled and trotted back to the scullery. Nellie felt awkward, standing there with her bundle at her feet. She wished Sam would see how exhausted she was and ask Matty to take her to the bedroom. But, instead, he f
ollowed Matty into the scullery, where Nellie heard him scrubbing his hands and talking to the two children. She heard much whispering, which she judged to be about the possibility of dividing Sam’s tea between two plates.

  Mrs Gilbie beckoned Nellie to sit next to her. Nellie had kept a distance from the fire, but now she slipped off her jacket and went to the hard-backed chair next to Mrs Gilbie.

  ‘I’m very grateful, Mrs Gilbie. I won’t trouble you no more than tonight. I’ll find somewhere tomorrow.’

  ‘It’s no trouble, love, and you’re welcome to stay as long as you like. Don’t I remember you from the girls’ club, at the Settlement?’

  Nellie nodded.

  ‘I thought I recognized that chestnut hair of yours. You’ve grown into a lovely young woman, Nellie.’ She smiled. ‘Always with the little ’uns, you was, always carrying a baby around, I remember now.’ And it was true, for Nellie’s mother had given birth to two babies between her and Alice. Nellie had loved both the frail little things, who had stayed for such a short while in the world.

  Mrs Gilbie unexpectedly took her hand. She had been a handsome woman in her day. There were still streaks of a fiery auburn in amongst her grey hair, and her face, though worn with hard work and illness, was still pleasant to look at. But it was her eyes that drew Nellie in: there was an intelligence there, which seemed to take in more than the bare facts told her by Sam.

  ‘I didn’t know my Sam was walking out with someone,’ she said in a weak voice, which came in gasps between laboured breaths. ‘I’m glad it’s you.’

  Nellie tried to explain but struggled to find words. How could she tell this proud mother that Sam was the last person she was thinking of walking out with?

  ‘He’s… very kind,’ she finished lamely.

  ‘He’s a good boy. He’s been the breadwinner since his father passed away and he’s never once complained. But you know that already. He doesn’t make a show of things, but his feelings go very deep, Nellie. What I mean is, I hope you’ll be good to him, won’t you? And if ever the day comes...’ she took in a wheezing breath ‘... then be good to my children as well.’ Here she paused, while she struggled with a bout of breathlessness that Nellie thought had ended the conversation. She thought the woman, who had closed her eyes, had drifted off into sleep. But then she stirred and, still with her eyes closed, went on in a barely audible voice. ‘Look after Sam and the children… when the time comes. I can see you’re the one for him, Nellie. I can see it in his eyes.’ Her voice had faded away almost to nothing and now there was only a silence, waiting for Nellie to fill it.

  All Nellie could think of was her dream, how she had been falling with Ted, through the gap in Tower Bridge, to the engulfing water below. And now it felt to her as if another gap was opening up to swallow her, here, in this little cosy room, where the dying woman was extracting from her a promise she could never keep. How could she promise such a thing? How could she not?

  7

  Bread

  Nellie inhaled the tantalizing aroma of the freshly baked crusty loaves. There were thousands of them, stacked on trestle tables in the large lecture hall of the Labour Institute. She had left Sam Gilbie’s home, without breakfast, not wishing to deprive the children or his sick mother of their last bit of bread and jam. She’d last eaten the evening before, sharing a scant half of Sam’s mutton stew. Matty had ladled out the supper, giving Nellie mostly cabbage. Nellie admired her fierce protectiveness towards her older brother. She would have done the same. In fact, it hadn’t been long before Nellie was bewitched by the child. She had a way of singing to herself as she undertook the grown-up tasks of the kitchen, and when she finally took herself off to bed she was still singing. While Nellie washed up plates, she could hear Matty’s voice, clear and pure and bright, receding up the stairs.

  ‘We call her our little canary,’ Sam explained. ‘She keeps the place bright and it reminds us of Dad. He had a good voice.’

  She and Matty had shared the bed in the top back bedroom. The other room was occupied by Sam and his brother, while their mother, who was too weak to climb stairs, had a truckle bed in the kitchen. The little girl was still awake when Nellie finally crept into the bedroom. She snuggled up in the bed, next to Nellie, and now seemed to view her visit as a great adventure. What was left of the night was almost all used up listening to the little canary’s chattering and childish confidences, until finally Nellie fell into a fitful sleep, full of dreams of little caged birds, singing, singing, singing.

  Now, standing behind this trestle table loaded with bread felt like torture. Her hollow stomach gurgled and she wanted nothing more than to tear into one of those warm, enticing loaves. Instead, she went to find Eliza James. She found her out in the back yard, supervising the deliveries of food pouring in from well-wishers and strike supporters. The woman had an energetic air about her, as though the act of standing still was only ever a launching pad for another activity. Now she was moving down a line of packing cases, list in hand, ticking off each delivery.

  ‘Perishables over there in the brick outhouse. They need to be distributed first.’ She addressed some volunteer dockers, who immediately started to heave off crates of fish, stacked in ice.

  Eliza James turned and noticed Nellie waiting patiently for instructions.

  ‘I’ve come to help with the loaves, madam,’ Nellie said quietly.

  Eliza smiled broadly, obviously remembering her from the day before. ‘Ah, it’s Nellie, isn’t it? I see you survived your father’s wrath!’

  ‘I’m afraid he chucked me out when I got back, madam.’

  ‘You don’t mean to say you spent the night on the streets?’ Eliza’s shock was obvious, and Nellie felt acute shame on behalf of her father.

  ‘No, madam, I stayed with… a friend.’ She hardly knew how to describe Sam now his kindness had subtly shifted their relationship. ‘Sam, the young feller that helped me yesterday, Sam Gilbie.’

  Nellie immediately became conscious of an uncharacteristic stillness about Eliza. Once more, she felt she’d stumbled upon a feeling of connection between Eliza and Sam. Nellie’s curiosity needed to be sated. ‘You met him yesterday,’ she probed. ‘Do you know him?’

  For the first time, Nellie saw that Eliza’s habitual poise had left her, and she actually stuttered. ‘I… no… not well. I don’t know Sam well.’

  Nellie waited in silence as Eliza James, a woman who could command thousands from atop a tea crate, stumbled and blushed, but she said no more. Instead, Eliza hastily turned to address a query from one of the young lady volunteers about the queue of noisy women forming at the door of the institute.

  ‘Yes, let them in now, if you will, Sarah.’

  When she turned back to Nellie, she was more composed. The smooth veneer, which had cracked briefly, was once again in place and she was every inch the Madam Mecklenburgh of the podium.

  ‘But look, Nellie, we must help you find somewhere. You’ve lost your home for the cause and the least we can do is help you find somewhere permanent.’

  Nellie just had time to thank Eliza for the offer of help before Sarah came back to marshal her away to the work station. She led Nellie back into the lecture hall, full of the fragrant loaves, and immediately Nellie’s growling stomach protested. Once she was engaged in making up parcels of bread and tea for strikers’ families, she slipped a loaf under the trestle table. Digging her fingers into the end, Nellie pulled out a hunk of the soft white bread, surreptitiously stuffing it into her mouth. She was starving and it was delicious.

  The doors opened at eight o’clock, and after three hours the stream of women and children showed no sign of slacking. The hall was all confusion, full of chatter, laughter and screaming babies, but as soon as Ted came through the door Nellie spotted him. She was so disconcerted that she handed out an extra food parcel to a woman and her children, who trotted off quickly with their windfall. Ted walked boldly up to the trestle table, leaned over and filched a loaf.

  ‘Oi
, keep your hands off, Ted Bosher!’ She went to slap his hand, but he simply laughed at her,

  ‘While I’m at it, I’ll have one of these an’ all.’ And he leaned across the table and stole a kiss for good measure.

  ‘How did you get on with the old man last night?’

  When Nellie told him, Ted’s face hardened. ‘Why d’you go with Gilbie? Me mum would’ve taken you in!’

  Nellie shook her head. ‘No, Ted, she’s got enough on her plate, without me turning up on her doorstep.’

  Ted seemed unconvinced and turned his anger on her father. ‘I tell you what, Nell, you’ve got more guts than your old man will ever have, turning his back on his own! Don’t worry, he’ll get his, we’re going to start cracking down on the scabs.’

  Nellie grew frightened. Hard as he was, her father’s explanation of his behaviour had made a kind of sense. ‘No, don’t say that, Ted. He’s only doing what he thinks is best for the family. You can’t bully people into going along. I’ve made me bed—’

  ‘And now we’ll just have to find you another one to lie in…’ His green eyes twinkled mischievously and Nellie caught his meaning. She flushed.