About the Book
There was a new family in Browning Street, Walworth – the Harrisons. Respectable and well-behaved, the only thing unusual about them was that Mr Harrison was never there. He was a sailor, said Ma Harrison, away fighting pirates in the China Seas. Actually, ‘Knocker’ Harrison was in Marsham Gaol – he had unfortunately burgled a lady’s suite when she happened to be there. Pa wasn’t really a very good burglar.
When young Nick Harrison, eldest son and heir of Ma and Knocker, met Annabelle Somers he found himself in a very difficult situation. For seventeen-year-old Annabelle was a peach of a girl, was related to the highly respectable Adams family, and was really quite keen on Nick, very interested in him and in his family. What with keeping Annabelle at arm’s length in case she found out about Pa, and with the problems of running the Browning Street Rovers football team (the ball was owned by Chrissie Evans who laid down her own rules about the team) Nick sometimes wondered if his life would ever be sorted out.
Contents
Cover
About the Book
Title Page
Dedication
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
About the Author
Also by Mary Jane Staples
Copyright
PRIDE OF
WALWORTH
Mary Jane Staples
To PIP and STEVE, JUDY and NIGEL
Chapter One
MA HARRISON OF BROWNING Street, Walworth, was a trim-looking woman. She dressed neatly and wore her brown hair with a parting down the middle and tidy buns cosily nestling around her ears. An energetic and perky character at forty-two, she had a son and three daughters. Nick was one month short of twenty-one, Alice was seventeen, Amy thirteen and Fanny eleven. Nick worked for an insurance company in Holborn, and Alice had a job with Galloway’s, manufacturers of cough syrup, in the Walworth Road. She did clerking and filing. Amy and Fanny were still at school, at St John’s in Larcom Street.
They all went along with Ma’s funny little ways, which had come about on account of the misfortunes of their dad, Pa Harrison. Whenever she was talking about him to interested parties, it was obvious she had a cross to bear.
‘Is yer old man still away, then, Mrs ’Arrison?’ Female neighbours were interested parties, and were always asking that question of her. It was a fact of life in Walworth, the interest female neighbours had in other women’s husbands, much as if they were thinking of offering to swap.
‘Yes, he’s still away in the Navy,’ Ma would reply with a sigh.
‘My, all this time and all, you poor woman.’
‘Yes, ’is ship’s still in the China Seas.’ Ma would then take on the look of a wife and mother suffering prolonged separation from the family provider as bravely as she could. It was very suffering when it was at a distance of thousands of miles. Ma couldn’t think of any distance farther than the China Seas. It meant the neighbours couldn’t suggest Mr Harrison ought to be able to pop home for the occasional weekend leave. ‘It’s all them chronic Chinese pirates,’ she’d add, ‘there’s no end to them. Albert’s often saying in ’is letters that there’s a hundred born every minute.’
‘’Orrible. It’s like five ’undred while yer doin’ an ’ard-boiled egg. It’s a real shame for yer, Mrs ’Arrison, and for Mr ’Arrison too.’
‘Yes, Albert’s suffering ’imself,’ Ma would say, ‘but he ’as to do ’is duty as a sailor. I just ’ope them pirates don’t capture ’im and hold ’im to ransom, because where would I get the money from, even if they only asked five pounds for him?’ And so on.
Actually, Pa Harrison had been known to the Hackney police as Knocker Harrison on account of his tendency to knock off wallets that didn’t belong to him. But he’d never done time for this particular lark because the coppers had never caught him in the act or in possession of the goods. All the same, he was now in Marsham Gaol, although not for lifting wallets. It was for knocking off an American lady’s jewels from her suite in a posh London hotel in May, 1930, well over three years ago. This kind of caper being above his usual line of operation, fate had struck him a blow for overstepping himself. It contrived to place the lady in the suite at the time, which was not only a surprise to him, but an embarrassment as well.
She came out of the bathroom just as he was shovelling the sparklers into a smart little attaché case he’d nicked the day before. He blushed a bit and panicked a bit. Well, who wouldn’t have? The handsome and statuesque American lady was in a ravishing white corset, eye-blinking French knickers, and black silk stockings. Instead of leaving the jewels and doing a sensible bunk, he did something daft. While she was temporarily struck dumb, he pulled off the bedcover, flung it over her head and smothered her in it. Helpfully, the lady swooned. He placed her on the bed, completed the theft and scarpered. He left the hotel the same way he’d entered, by the back stairs. When he appeared in the street, he looked a gentleman of leisure in a tailored suit, a Homburg hat, and a public school tie. Carrying his attaché case and his walking-stick, he merged with the crowds.
But he was copped all the same. The outraged American lady was able to give a correct description of him. His suit and hat were familiar to the Hackney police. He’d had the suit made up for him by a Shoreditch tailor who was still waiting to be paid, and he’d found the hat on a peg somewhere. It was in this outfit that he’d take up his walking-stick and go out, usually to the races. He was probably the best-dressed pickpocket in the business. Ma kept on at him about getting a job, sometimes with the aid of her frying-pan, but she’d always end up saying, well, I suppose I’ve got to have some money to feed us all, so let’s see what you’ve come back home with. Ma had to be practical.
However, she thought it criminally daft, getting himself copped for a jewel robbery. The judge gave him five years hard labour, first because he’d done the job, second because he’d done bodily assault on the American visitor, and third because the law hadn’t recovered the loot. To pile it on, the affronted lady said in court that she’d suffered the outrageous indignity of having a lousy Limey thief catch her in her best fancy underwear.
Showing no hard feelings, the police let Ma and her son Nick see Pa after he’d been sentenced, whereupon he at once assured Ma it had been an unfair cop on account of accidental circumstances. Ma, looking as if she wanted to spit, asked what accidental circumstances meant. Well, said Pa, that aggravating American female wasn’t supposed to be there at the time. I was slipped the wrong information, he whispered. You silly old bugger, said Ma, you let someone put you up to it. And it wasn’t accidental circumstances, it was getting too big for your boots. Why you let someone talk you into doing a jewel robbery, I’ll never know. Why couldn’t you have stuck to honest pickpocketing? Now see what you’ve done by getting above yourself, you’ve left your family without a father for five years. Yes, five years hard labour, Albert Harrison, like a common criminal. You want your head seeing to. When you come out, I’ll make sure you get a proper job, like driving a coal cart. What, said Pa, more hard labour on top of five years?
Ma told him not to give her any lip. He’d upset her enough as it was, she said. Just earn yourself good conduct marks and they�
�ll let you out a bit early. Suffering Punch and Judy, said Pa, out early to drive a coal cart, what sort of a future is that? Don’t talk saucy to me, said Ma. Actually, Pa had acquired a gift for talking like a gent, even though he’d been born a cockney. Ma said I suppose you realize me and the children will have to move from Hackney on account of all the neighbours knowing what you’ve done, and more especially knowing what you did to that American woman when she wasn’t decently dressed? Nick can’t hardly look his friends in the face, can you, Nick?
Nick, sixteen at the time, asked Pa what the American lady’s underwear was actually like. Well, real black silk stockings, for a start, said Pa. The policeman present caught that and grinned. Ma didn’t think it amusing herself. She told Pa not to answer questions like that, and she told Nick not to ask them.
Pa said he still felt it was an unfair cop. Not that he’d ever had a fair cop in mind, he said, just a nice neat job that would keep the family in comfortable style for a bit. Ma again looked as if she wanted to spit. Pa patted her shoulder and told her someone would keep a charitable eye on her. He didn’t say who or why in case the copper overheard, but he did give Ma a wink. Nick guessed that whoever had the jewels had the responsibility of being charitable to Ma. Nick agreed with her that Pa had overstepped himself by not sticking to honest pickpocketing. Nobody in Hackney minded a neighbour taking up that kind of career. But a jewel robbery and doing bodily harm to the female victim in her underwear meant Ma couldn’t stay in Hackney without having all the neighbours asking if ladies in underwear made Pa jump them. Horrible details of the court case would bound to be in the News of the World, and the whole family would get looked at and talked about. Ma would definitely want to move.
Her next words to Pa were to emphasize his need to reform himself while doing his time, and to go straight when he came out. Mind, if a friend of his did offer to help her, she wouldn’t say no, as she hadn’t got anything coming in. It was fortunate Nick had left his grammar school at Easter, she said, and was hoping to get himself a respectable clerking job on account of being well educated and honest. Pa grimaced. He was taking his five-year sentence like the gent he was, but he wasn’t too keen on his only son being a clerk. Pardon me, he said, but there’s no need for that, not when Tosh Fingers could teach Nick some very useful tricks. Tosh Fingers was a bloke whose real monicker was lost in the mists of Hackney Marshes or somewhere else of a foggy nature. Ma said she wasn’t going to have any of her children taught any kind of tricks by a bloke who was a second Charlie Peace, thanks very much. See where useful tricks have got you, she said.
Pa was taken away then to begin his sentence, and Ma and Nick went home, only to find neighbours inside and outside the house. It took Ma an hour to get rid of them, which made her determined to move right out of Hackney.
The following day a bloke in a black belted overcoat and a brown bowler hat paid Ma a visit. He had a large moustache and a large mouth. Whenever he smiled he showed large horsy teeth, and looked as if he’d just eaten last year’s Derby winner, bones and all, and thoroughly enjoyed it. A well-known figure in Hackney, being the local moneylender, he was called Mister Horsemouth. His real name was Monty Cooper. Cooper was derived in his case from Kupper, the name of his German grandfather, an immigrant. He had a private talk with Ma and Nick in the parlour, and a week later the family moved south of the river to Walworth, to a three-storeyed house in Browning Street. Ma was a bit peeved at having to leave friends and neighbours she’d known for years, but it had to be done.
‘We’ve got to put behind us the shame of your daft Pa turning ’imself into a convicted felon and bein’ sent to prison like a common criminal, which was never what ’e was born to be.’
She perked up once the family had settled in, however. After all, her new neighbours didn’t know a thing about Pa or how he’d landed himself in jug. Ma was able to look everyone in the face, and she soon put it about that Pa was away in the China Seas with the Royal Navy. ‘Of course, it’s a long way away,’ she’d say, ‘but we’re all proud of ’im.’ Nick, Alice, Amy and Fanny all backed her up. The girls had a very affectionate regard for Pa, and had never complained about him being a pickpocket instead of one of the workers. As for the jewel robbery, they all took an instinctive dislike to the American woman for having landed Pa in the soup.
Nick was aware that Mister Horsemouth was the friend keeping a charitable eye on Ma, making her a monthly allowance that paid the rent and helped her scrape a living for them all. Which meant, of course, that Mister Horsemouth and his runabout hireling, Tosh Fingers, had put Pa up to snaffling the jewels. Anyway, it was certainly Mister Horsemouth who called on Ma once a month to dispense his charity.
Nick managed to secure himself his job with the old-established insurance company soon after the family moved to Walworth. And Alice, when she left school at fourteen, managed to get herself accepted at Galloway’s a month later, which perked Ma up no end, because then Alice and Nick both contributed to her housekeeping. Amy and Fanny had enrolled at St John’s Church School in Larcom Street, which had pleased Ma very much. She said a church school was just right for the daughters of a Royal Navy sailor, and would help them grow up religious and respectable.
‘Hold on,’ said Nick at the time, ‘you’re pushing it a bit, Ma. They’re hardly daughters of an able seaman.’
‘Watch your tongue,’ said Ma, ‘they’ve been your sailor Pa’s daughters since we moved ’ere.’
‘You sure?’ said Nick. ‘I thought Pa had been daft enough to get—’
‘Never mind what you thought,’ said Ma. ‘I hope you’re not goin’ to be contrary just because you’ve been wearin’ long trousers for a bit. Now, what’s your Pa in?’
‘The Royal Navy.’
‘And where is he?’
‘In the China Seas doing battle with Chinese pirates.’
‘There,’ smiled Ma, ‘you said that quite easy, and it didn’t ’urt, did it?’
‘Hardly any pain at all, Ma.’
‘Good,’ said Ma.
That was how it was going to be with Ma and her family until Pa came out.
It was now well over three years since Pa had begun his sentence. Nick was well established in his job, and so was Alice at Galloway’s, while Amy and Fanny were doing well at school. Alice at seventeen was like Ma, slim, neat and trim. She was very particular about her appearance, and could get very cross with herself if she discovered the seams of her stockings weren’t straight. She made her clothes last by taking extra care with them, since there wasn’t much money available for new outfits. She favoured simple blouses and skirts for going to work, and none of the blouses ever showed a wrinkle. She had nice looks without being as pretty as Amy, and fair hair with natural waves, together with blue eyes like Pa’s. It was Pa’s blue eyes that made him look a trustworthy gent, as well as a personable one. Nick and Alice both thought that if he hadn’t panicked when the American woman caught him snaffling her sparklers, that if he’d smiled at her, used his blue eyes on her and come up with a yarn about only doing the nicking job in order to feed some starving orphans, she might have said something like OK, Robin Hood, just take my diamond brooch and give us a kiss.
Thirteen-year-old Amy and eleven-year-old Fanny both had straw-coloured hair and hazel eyes. Amy was as pretty as a picture, and Fanny had a piquant little nose in the middle of a saucy face. Local boys quite fancied Alice and Amy, but Ma vetted all boys who came knocking and so far hadn’t approved of any of them. She said Amy was far too young, anyway. Further, as all her girls were daughters of a Royal Navy sailor, it was her duty, she said, to see they didn’t get taken up the park by scruffy Walworth boys. She was doing her best after three years to let neighbours think the captain of Pa’s ship was considering promoting him to sergeant. Nick had to point out there were no sergeants in the Navy, only petty officers. Ma took umbrage at that. Your Pa might have his faults, she said, but he’s never been petty, just unlucky. And a bit daft, said Nick. Well, a bit,
conceded Ma.
She went to see him once a month, on Sundays, and most times Nick and the girls went with her. For some reason, the prison governor allowed Pa the privilege of being able to receive his whole family. Alice said the reason was easy to guess. Pa had chatted the governor up. Pa liked to see how his offspring were coming along, and if any of them were showing a bit of talent. Nick thought he always looked fit, as if his hard labour provided him with healthy exercise. At forty-five, he had a handsome look, even in his prison garb, and was never less than cheerfully optimistic about earning generous remission. But he still wasn’t happy about Alice and Nick doing office work. He didn’t think that was anything but a waste of their talents. He suggested during one visit that they could go into partnership and try their luck as a double act by selling Buckingham Palace to a rich American visitor. Ma threatened to brain him if he made any more suggestions like that. Such suggestions were always whispered, of course, because warders present had notoriously large lugholes.
Ma followed up her threat to do him a fatal injury by pointing out that a sailor’s children had got to grow up respectable. That made Pa grin, for he knew all about how he was supposed to be in the China Seas with the Navy. Ma informed him Alice had the makings of a lady and might very likely marry a wealthy gentleman when she was old enough. As for Nick, she said, I’m hoping it won’t be long before he turns into a proper young gent in a bowler hat and a rolled umbrella. Pa told her not to say things like that out loud in case his fellow inmates heard her. He said he hoped he wouldn’t live to see the day when Nick went to work in a bowler hat just to earn a pound a week. Nick, he said, could already be earning a couple of quid six times a day by selling gold watches down Petticoat Lane and suchlike markets.
Alice asked what gold watches, Pa? Pa said Tosh Fingers could supply them at five bob a time, and Nick could sell them for fifty bob each. Ma nearly clouted him with her handbag. I thought I told you to reform, she said, I thought I told you to think about honest work. Well, said Pa, in his habitually discreet voice, what’s more honest than someone getting a gold watch for fifty bob? You mean thinking he is, said Ma. Well, if it makes him happy, said Pa, what’s more honest than that, old girl? Lord give me patience, said Ma, you still don’t have no sense of family respectability.
Pride of Walworth Page 1
