by Valerie Wood
‘Anyway, this fellow said that he’d worked, casual like, wiv a company and he was a bit suspicious as to whether it was a proper set-up, so he left as soon as he’d got a promise of other work. Didn’t want any trouble, he said, just a regular job.’
‘Oh,’ Eleanor breathed. ‘And did it have a name, this company?’
Josh nodded. ‘It did. When he worked for ’em, it was called Manners Incorporated, but he said it might have changed its name since.’
Eleanor took a breath. So at least the company did exist. But could she find it?
‘If you get up early tomorrow morning and come out wiv me, I’ll show you how to get there,’ Josh offered. ‘Maybe get you a lift, cos it’s quite a stretch. You must be careful,’ he warned her for the second time. ‘There are some mean streets round there and the folks working on the wharves and in the warehouses won’t be pleased to have a stranger asking questions.’
She agreed that she would be careful and told him how grateful she was.
The next morning they rose at four thirty; Eleanor felt that she hadn’t slept all night. Her bones ached with sitting up in a chair for the second time. She gratefully swallowed a cup of tea but refused a slice of bread and dripping. She rinsed her hands and face under the outside tap, ran a comb through her hair and was ready.
It was still dark when they left and in silence she scurried alongside Josh’s long stride. They reached the main thoroughfare and joined other workers who were tramping towards their places of work. She felt that they had walked miles but presently she heard the clatter of hooves and the rumble of an omnibus.
‘Come on!’ Josh urged her, grabbing her arm. ‘This one’s going to Wapping. Hop on and ask to be put off at Cinnabar Wharf. Ask for directions when you get there. Can you find your way back?’ He pushed her aboard.
‘Y-yes, I think so. What’s the name of your street?’ she called back as the vehicle rumbled away and Josh receded into the distance.
‘Marble Grove,’ he yelled. ‘Anybody will tell you where it is.’
The omnibus was only half full and the passengers, she assumed, were clerical workers, for they all wore jackets, shirts and trousers, unlike the men walking to work who wore heavyweight trousers, flannel shirts and waistcoats, with mufflers round their necks and caps on their heads.
The conductor put her off at the nearest stop to Cinnabar Wharf and told her she should walk down to the river via the embankment. ‘Then you must ask again,’ he called out. ‘You might not be allowed on.’
‘I know, I know,’ she muttered beneath her breath. ‘I might not be let on and I must be careful.’ But it’s broad daylight, she thought. What harm can become of me at this time of day?
As she walked, she was aware of curious glances coming her way. It was mostly men walking to work, and the few women who were there were very shabbily dressed. Eleanor was very conscious of her own warm coat and hat. I’m as conspicuous as a monkey in a cage, she thought. I should have borrowed one of Aunt Marie’s shawls; but then she thought that probably the old lady would only have the one and couldn’t spare it.
Eventually she noticed that the men were peeling off the road and going towards the warehouses, and that in front of her was a high fence guarding the entrance to the river frontage. She sat on a low wall overlooking the river and contemplated her best course of action.
I’ll rest my feet a little, she thought, and wait for the men to get to their places of work. Then in half an hour or so I’ll cut back up one of the streets and approach the warehouses from the top.
She watched the shipping on the Thames as she sat, and wondered where it was going. Some of the ships were huge and she guessed they were bound for other countries. She thought of her mother who would soon be taking a ship abroad with Mr Walton. Other vessels were barges carrying goods to other ports; some were laden with cables and heavy industrial material and some were lighters which had offloaded directly from the ships and were now heading towards the wharves to deliver their cargo into the warehouses. On the other side of the Thames it was a similar scene, ships lining the bank, loading and unloading, and she could hear the shouts and calls of the men as they worked.
After a while, she got up and walked back the way she had come to allay suspicion in case anyone had been watching and was curious about her. Then she cut up one of the roads leading away from the river and discovered a whole new world she hadn’t known existed.
The buildings were cramped together in what seemed like blackened heaps of brick. Women and children stood in open doorways and portrayed such hopelessness that Eleanor wanted to cry in sympathy.
A woman came towards her with one child in her arms and another she held by the hand. ‘Will you take one of my girls, miss?’ she said. ‘I can’t afford to feed ’em all, and I’ve a child here at my breast and no milk for him.’
Eleanor put her hand to her mouth and stared at the woman. ‘I’m sorry,’ she whispered. ‘I can’t! I have nowhere to take her to. I have no parents of my own.’ A small stretch of the truth, she thought, but she had no time to explain the situation. ‘I’m looking for my brother,’ she added. ‘I hope he’ll be able to help me.’
Tears came into her eyes as the woman turned away. There was no anger, no feeling for Eleanor’s predicament, just an expression of apathy as if she hadn’t expected anything anyway. ‘I’m sorry!’ Eleanor cried out, but the woman wasn’t listening.
Eleanor continued on her way, but with a backward glance to see if the woman was watching her and half expecting to see a child running after her. How dreadful; how heartbreaking that a mother could give away her own child. Perhaps, she thought, it’s the only way she can think of to save her from starvation.
Now she was approaching another block of warehouses, and hesitating for only a few seconds she strode out purposefully as if she knew where she was going. One or two men looked up but she nodded her head and said good morning and they touched their caps and then continued with their tasks. She had all the while been casting glances at the warehouses for the company names above them. There was nothing remotely similar to Manners.
She walked as far as she could until she found her way blocked by a building. She turned about and cut down a passageway between two others and came out into a wider area leading straight down towards the river frontage. Though the day was grey the river was glinting, and where the boats and ships disturbed the water creamy white froth tipped and broke the shining surface. There were far more men working here, many moving crates, some pushing barrows and others loading drays and waggons.
Too many people, Eleanor decided. So far no one had challenged her but she thought that was sheer luck, so she halted in her stride and, turning, slipped into a slit between two warehouses. It was a long, long passageway and very narrow, but she kept on walking though the earth surface was muddy and uneven and she found it difficult to place her feet without cockling over. The end was a long way off and it seemed as if the buildings on both sides were joined together without any spaces between them.
She began to feel claustrophobic. Trapped. She turned and looked back. It was as far again. She must have come halfway. She marched on but the passageway seemed to be getting narrower, so much so that her shoulders were brushing the walls of the warehouses.
Oh, how foolish I am. Why didn’t I look before venturing down? She stumbled out at the other end and crashed into a youth who was walking past.
‘Crikey, miss,’ he said. ‘You made me jump! Wherever did you come from?’
‘I’m so sorry,’ she gasped, ‘I – I came from down there.’ She pointed to the opening.
Mikey grinned. ‘I thought I was ’onny one who knew about that passage.’ His eyes crinkled as he laughed. ‘Thought I was ’onny one skinny enough to cut through, too.’
She gave a sudden smile, although a few moments before she had felt like crying. Now she thought how good it was to speak to someone who seemed friendly, and with a recognizable northern accent.
&
nbsp; ‘It was a mistake,’ she said. ‘I thought I could cut through to another section. I didn’t realize it went such a long way.’
‘Are you lost?’ Mikey gazed intently at her, a little frown wrinkling his forehead. ‘This isn’t a place for such as you, begging your pardon; not unless you’re on some kind of business.’
‘Which I am.’ Eleanor put her chin up and the youth again gave a small frown.
‘Sorry,’ he said, touching his forehead; he wasn’t wearing a cap and his brown hair curled on his neck. ‘I thought I’d seen you afore, miss, though I wouldn’t have reckoned on its being round here.’
‘Well, you haven’t,’ she said pertly. ‘You can’t have done. I haven’t been here before.’
Mikey saw the frisky lift of her chin and it stirred a flash of recognition. But who was she? Not anyone he would know, judging by her accent or her clothes.
‘I’m looking for my brother,’ she said. ‘Simon Kendall. Do you know him? I believe he works for a company called Manners Incorporated.’
He gave a start. ‘I work for Manners,’ he told her. ‘And there’s a fellow called Simon, but he’s never told us his second name.’
Eleanor took a breath. ‘What does he look like? Is he fair, like me?’
‘Y-yes, sort of; a bit darker mebbe.’
‘How old?’ she asked eagerly.
‘Dunno. Same as me, I suppose. Eighteen – nineteen. We don’t bother about ages, or bothdays,’ he added.
Her face flushed and he thought how pretty she was, with her wide blue eyes and dimpled cheeks. ‘Could you take me to him?’
He shook his head. ‘No. We’re not supposed to bring anybody to ’warehouse or even talk about work.’
‘Please!’ she begged. ‘I’ve come such a long way. I arrived the other day and I’m staying with some people I don’t even know. They took me in when I had nowhere else to stay.’
Mikey looked puzzled. ‘But does your family know where you are? This isn’t a safe place for you to be on your own.’
He could see the kind of person she was. A young woman from a good family, unused to being out by herself. Not like Bridget, who had run the streets of Hull even after dark, and now, after five years, was almost as familiar with the streets of London. She was even picking up a London accent, as was Simon. But there was something bothering him about this young woman, some small memory itching away in his brain.
‘Won’t your parents be worried about you?’
‘They’re away,’ she lied. ‘Travelling abroad.’ Again her chin went up and her nose tilted into the air. ‘That’s why I need to find my brother. He doesn’t know, and – and there are things, personal matters,’ she added, ‘that I have to discuss.’
He thought it odd that she should have to seek him out. If Simon was her brother, why hadn’t he been in touch with her? And even odder that Simon hadn’t ever mentioned that he had a sister. Mikey had talked about his sister and brothers to him often enough. Can’t be him, he decided. It’s just a coincidence.
‘Tell you what,’ he said. ‘I’ll get into hot water if I tek you to ’warehouse, but we’ve got lodgings. If I give you ’address you could come tonight after we’ve finished work.’
‘But what will I do in the meantime?’ There was a break in her voice. ‘I’ve nowhere to go and I can’t wait around until then. Besides,’ she said, her eyes blinking as if she was holding back tears, ‘I’m so hungry.’
Mikey bit his lip. He was already late back from his errand. Tony Manners would have something to say if he didn’t hurry up. ‘All right.’ He made up his mind. ‘It’s nearly dinner time. We tek ten minutes for a pot o’ tea. Wait in that gap so that nobody sees you and I’ll send Simon up here. I’ll not tell him why, cos there’s allus somebody about. I’ll think on some ruse to get him here and then you can look out to see if it’s him. And if it’s not,’ he said regretfully, ‘you’ll have to look some other place.’
‘Thank you,’ Eleanor said quietly. She was close to tears, he could see that. She looked young and vulnerable and – who did she remind him of? There was something, but he couldn’t put his finger on it.
‘Do you know where he comes from?’ she asked.
‘What?’ He frowned. ‘Yeh.’ He nodded. ‘Same as me. We arrived together about five years ago. He’s from Hull.’
Eleanor burst into tears. ‘Then it’s him,’ she sobbed. ‘It’s Simon.’
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Mikey patted Eleanor’s arm. He didn’t know what to say or do. Had she travelled from Hull to find Simon? And why now, after five years? But of course, she wouldn’t have been able to come before, she would have been too young. But how was it her parents were abroad and she hadn’t gone with them? It was then that he recalled what Simon had said about his father.
He’d beaten him, he remembered. His hands had been swollen and cracked, and what else had he said? Simon had said something about his sister after all, that day they had first met. Yes! He’d said that his father had locked her in a cupboard!
‘Have you run away from home?’ he asked her. ‘Is that why you’re searching for your brother?’
Eleanor looked up at him and brushed away her tears. ‘Why do you ask that?’ she mumbled. ‘You’ve no reason to think …’ Fresh tears spouted and ran down her cheeks. She fished in her bag for a handkerchief. ‘I can’t tell you,’ she said. ‘I can only tell Simon.’
‘Then wait here,’ he said gently, ‘and like I said, I’ll go and fetch him. I won’t be long.’
He ran back towards the hired warehouse. It wasn’t a proper warehouse, more like a large shed. And it wasn’t the same one they had originally worked in. They had been in several over the years, because Manners and Tully had come along on occasion, usually when the building was empty of goods, and informed them that the following day they would be moving to another block.
Mikey had always had his suspicions that the company wasn’t legal. The buildings they occupied were usually in out-of-the-way places and lodged between others so that they were hardly seen from any of the roadways. But they had never had any trouble and no one had ever questioned them about their authenticity. Perhaps he was wrong after all, he had thought, and in any case he had no proof.
Mikey’s job was to supervise the men, tick off the number of parcels and goods that were delivered and note who had delivered them from which ship. Simon’s job was to keep the consignment ledgers and payments to the men up to date. He had a head for figures and that was why he sat inside the building at a desk, whereas Mikey was usually in and out of the warehouse.
Simon Kendall, Mikey thought as he ran. I wonder why he would never give his name? Everybody calls me Quinn. I suppose he didn’t want it mentioned in case his father tried to find him. Can’t blame him, I suppose, if he was such a tyrant. I seem to know her face, though. Not that I would. She’s not ’sort of person I would have bumped into back in Hull.
He slid to a stop outside the building. Kendall! That was ’name of the ’man who caught me with ’rabbits! And she was there! It’s her! He recalled how the young girl had tossed her head when he’d grinned at her and then pulled her tongue out at him. Kendall spoke against me in court. Said I was a dangerous young criminal!
Simon was sitting outside the warehouse door munching on a piece of bread. ‘Where’ve you been?’ he asked. ‘Manners has been looking for you.’
‘On an errand for him. Has he forgotten? Simon.’ Mikey lowered his voice. ‘Somebody’s waiting to see you on ’top road.’
‘Who?’ Simon narrowed his eyes and looked about him. ‘Who wants to see me? Can’t he come down here?’
Mikey was about to say that it was a she not a he, but he didn’t want to give Simon any reason to ask questions.
‘It’s all right,’ he said. ‘It’s not trouble.’ Simon was always suspicious, always seeming to be aware of potential problems, always listening for instances of unrest or difficulties, and it was partly because of his unease that Mike
y wondered if the company was authorized. Simon handled the books, so he would know.
‘Come with me, then,’ Simon said. ‘Manners has gone off somewhere with Tully. He won’t be back for ten minutes at least.’
Reluctantly Mikey turned back. He didn’t really want to be at the meeting between Simon and his sister. He guessed that Simon might not be pleased to see her, and he was right.
Eleanor slipped out from her hiding place as they approached, and for a second or two it was as if Simon didn’t know her. He stopped and stared, his mouth dropping.
‘Good God,’ he muttered. ‘Is it you, Eleanor? However did you find me? Who’s come with you?’
He didn’t smile and made no effort to hug her or even seem glad to see her. Mikey thought him heartless, as she was so obviously relieved to see him.
‘No one,’ she said huskily. ‘I’ve come alone.’ She swallowed. ‘I went to Nottingham to find Mama. She was – she was staying with Aunt Maud.’ Too soon to tell him of their mother’s disgrace, especially in front of a stranger, though the boy had stood back and turned away as if he didn’t want to be part of the meeting.
‘And?’ He continued to stare at her. ‘What then?’
‘You’d written,’ she said, her words quick. ‘To Mama, at Aunt Maud’s address. There was a slip of paper inside the letter with the name of Manners Incorporated. Mama showed it to me. She didn’t know if you had put it in deliberately or not.’
He gave a slight shake of his head. ‘No,’ he said. ‘I didn’t. I don’t know how it got there. I hope she didn’t show it to Father!’
‘Oh no! He doesn’t know. Simon,’ she said urgently, ‘I have to speak to you. There’s such a lot to tell you, but not here.’ She glanced towards Mikey, who was walking about and looking anxious.
