by Valerie Wood
They stood silently gazing out at the passing population and the carriages and traps going by filled with jolly laughing people. It was starting to snow. Soft white flakes were drifting down, not yet settling on the ground but melting instantly. Both sighed.
‘Do you know what I’d really like, Mikey?’ Eleanor murmured.
He turned to her; her face was pale, and he noticed that her fair skin had a translucent lustre. He watched her moisten her lips with the tip of her tongue and he recalled the time she had put it out at him.
He smiled at the remembrance. ‘No. What?’
‘I’d like …’ She heaved a breath and a vaporous mist issued from her mouth. ‘I’d like to go home.’
He took hold of her hand and gently squeezed it. ‘So would I.’
They talked as they walked back to Trenton Square. They had decided not to go on any further as the snow was now coming down fast, filling the darkening day with swirls of white, settling on their heads and shoulders, coating Eleanor’s hat with soft flakes and speckling Mikey’s dark hair.
Eleanor looked up at him. ‘You’re a piebald pony,’ she laughed.
He tapped her gently on the nose where a snowflake had landed. ‘And you’re Snow White,’ he teased and it seemed perfectly natural that she should put up her hand to his and that their fingers should join and stay together.
‘So when shall I take you home, Ellie?’ he asked softly. ‘When shall we leave?’
She turned to him, her blue eyes wide. ‘Do you mean it?’ she said.
‘If it’s what you want.’
She thought for a moment. ‘If I leave Mr Henry’s employ now I will only have a week’s wages and I’ll have to pay Liza the rent due. It’s only right that I do; so I won’t have enough money for the train fare.’ Her expression was stricken. ‘When will I ever?’
Mikey gave a sudden grin. ‘Train fare? I’ve never been on a train! When we came to London, we walked, Bridget and me; we hitched some rides and we were just outside Nottingham when we met Simon; he’d got a lift in a waggon. He used to split up from us at night, though, and find his own lodgings. But he had his money stolen and stayed with us after that. Safety in numbers.’ His voice dropped. ‘Then we came across Tully, who took us up in his carriage. I’d met him before … in prison. He offered us a lift all ’way to London and a chance of work. So we took it.
‘I wouldn’t expect you to walk, of course,’ he said, abruptly changing the subject. ‘Can you save enough if we wait till spring? And then mebbe …’ He thought long and hard about how they could travel together but could come up with no solution. ‘I don’t know,’ he murmured, ‘mebbe get you a coach ride; public coaches are desperate for passengers, so I’ve heard.’
‘But together?’ she said. ‘You said you wanted to go home too.’
‘Aye, I do. But I earn hardly any money, so it’ll be Shanks’s pony for me again.’
‘What do you mean?’ she asked, puzzled. ‘Who is Shanks?’
Mikey laughed. What a world apart they were. ‘It means walking on your own legs. On your shanks! Haven’t you heard of it?’
Eleanor shook her head. ‘No, never! But I could do it, Mikey,’ she said earnestly. ‘I know I could.’
‘Not in winter you couldn’t,’ he told her. ‘We’ll have to wait for better weather. This lot is set in for weeks.’ He looked up at the sky, which now seemed to be filled with floating duck feathers. ‘We left Hull in October and missed ’worst of ’weather. So let’s look to spring, shall we, and mebbe we’ll both have a bit of extra money?’
Reluctantly Eleanor agreed. It did make sense, of course, but now that the idea had been voiced she was very anxious to put it into action. Home, though not always agreeable or even hospitable, seemed now to be urging her to come back. It’s because it’s familiar to me, she thought. I have had an adventure into the unknown by coming here to look for Simon and finding work, which is in the main very satisfying; but I could work equally well in my home town. I wouldn’t consider it beneath me and wouldn’t care if our acquaintances thought it was; indeed, it would be the answer to a dilemma if my father is no longer able to support me.
Mikey’s hands were warm in his new gloves and every now and again he squeezed Eleanor’s fingers. I could walk miles with her by my side, he thought happily. I’ll gladly walk her all the way home. Then he thought of her father and how he had treated him, and realized that after he’d taken her home he’d have to say goodbye. Whether he’s in prison or not, he’ll still think I’m not good enough for his daughter. And I’m not.
After they had eaten a tea of muffins and spice cake, for which both found, to their surprise, that they had plenty of room after all, and indulged in a glass of hot toddy, Mikey told Eleanor he must leave. ‘Better make tracks,’ he said, and laughed at the puzzled look on her face. How much he would enjoy initiating her into the world of ordinary people and their phrases as they travelled the road.
‘I did know what you meant,’ she said, as she opened the door to him. ‘It’s just that I’ve never heard anyone say that before. I know nothing about real people,’ she said, speaking his thoughts aloud. ‘Will you teach me?’ she asked softly.
‘Yes,’ he said, and bent to kiss her cheek.
He felt completely happy as he walked towards Wapping. He barely felt the cold, though his feet were wet and his toes numb. Ellie didn’t turn away from me or seem offended when I kissed her, he thought with a tender glow. I’ve never wanted to kiss anybody afore, though Bridget’s offered often enough, but then Bridget’s like that. I’ve seen her kissing Simon and once I caught her giving Tully a peck on his greasy stubble.
There was no one in the lodging house when he arrived and the place smelt cold and damp. He put a few sticks in the grate and lit a match, but it didn’t catch. He went into Bridget’s room and took her blanket off the bed. She’s not using it, so I might as well. He took off his wet boots and rubbed his feet dry on a piece of flannel, then wrapped himself in the blanket, put on his wool gloves and sat down in the chair with a sigh. ‘So that was Christmas,’ he murmured. ‘Best one I’ve had since I was just a bairn.’
The next morning he reported back at the warehouse. It was bitterly cold, the roads were wet and slushy underfoot and the sky was ominously dark. Manners wasn’t there so he hung about, but after an hour he walked down towards the river. Men were working on the wharves and the ships; barges and carriers were making their way towards the docks, but there were very few workers by the warehouses. He thought it odd that Manners would expect a consignment today, the day after Christmas.
Somebody shouted his name. ‘Quinn!’
He looked up and saw Tully, a black scarecrow of a figure in his flowing coat and hat.
‘Where’s Sam?’ Tully shouted. ‘I’m waiting on him.’
Mikey walked towards him. ‘You told him he was finished,’ he said. ‘But you didn’t pay him. You said for him to come today for his wages.’
‘Ah!’ Tully gave an exasperated grunt. ‘He can come back if he’s a mind to. What ’you doing down here?’
‘Waiting for Manners,’ Mikey said, remembering too late that Tony Manners had said that Tully wasn’t involved in this job. ‘He asked me to come in today.’
‘What for?’ Tully’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. ‘We’re not expecting a consignment.’
Mikey shrugged. ‘Don’t know,’ he said. ‘He didn’t say.’
‘He told me that he wouldn’t be here today and I said I wouldn’t be either. Have you seen Gilby?’ Tully asked abruptly.
‘Gilby! No, not for weeks.’ Tully’s pock-marked crony rarely turned up and Mikey was at a loss to know what he did. He hardly ever spoke but only grunted when asked a question.
‘So why are you here, Tully?’ Mikey asked curiously.
Tully shrugged up to his ears in his greatcoat. ‘I’m picking up a crate of baccy. That’s why I wanted Sam. He could have hauled it on to ’cart for me.’
Tully never lif
ted anything if he could find someone else to do it for him.
‘I’ll do it,’ Mikey offered. ‘I’m doing nowt else.’
He walked back to the warehouse with Tully and watched as the other man unlocked the padlock with a key and opened the doors. There was a handcart inside and Mikey pushed it over towards the stacked crates. He lifted one on to the cart and knew better than to ask where it was going.
Tully picked up a crowbar which leaned against the wall. ‘Open it for me, will you? Thanks,’ he mumbled as Mikey forced the crate. Then he fumbled in his pocket. ‘Here,’ he said, giving Mikey a handful of coins. ‘Share that wi’ your mate Sam.’ He trundled the cart out and padlocked the door again. ‘Find out what Manners is up to,’ he said as he turned away. ‘And let me know. I’ll mek it worth your while.’
‘If he turns up,’ Mikey said carelessly. He wouldn’t do anything of the sort, of course. He knew better than to tell tales.
He watched as Tully pushed the cart to the top of the road and disappeared behind the back of a building. He was curious as to where he was going with the crate. He didn’t want me to know, at any rate, or he would have asked me to push it, he thought.
He slipped down the side of a warehouse and ran along it. Like the alleyways and courts, the passages that ran between the buildings were familiar territory to him and he soon saw Tully ahead at the top of one of them.
Mikey stopped and stood to one side where he could see but not be seen, and watched as Tully looked about him. Then he saw him raise his arm and signal to someone. Mikey flattened himself against the wall and peered out. A figure appeared: a man in uniform wearing a recognizable stovepipe hat. Mikey drew in a breath. It was a constable and he was handing something to Tully. Tully put his hand in the crate, drew out what looked like a package and gave it to the policeman. Then Tully pointed towards the river as if explaining something.
‘A bribe,’ Mikey breathed. ‘A sweetener! Now I know for sure that what we do is illegal.’
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
Tully’s taking a chance in broad daylight, Mikey pondered. Though mebbe the constable has an excuse ready if anybody should turn up. Still, nowt to do with me and it’s best I don’t get involved. He turned away and walked back towards the river and saw Manners in conversation with another man. They seemed to be arguing rather than talking.
Mikey whistled as he approached so that they would hear him. Manners looked up and glared at him.
‘That mate of yours is a thief! If only I could catch him!’
‘Mate? What mate? I haven’t got any mates, onny Sam, and he’s no thief.’
‘Simon!’ Manners barked. ‘I paid him to settle for this consignment and he’s done a runner with the money.’
Mikey shrugged. ‘Nowt to do wi’ me, and anyway I said before he’s no pal o’ mine. You trusted him wi’ your books,’ he said heatedly. ‘Don’t go blaming me.’
He’d never spoken to Manners like that before, but his blood was up. He’d just seen Tully handing goods over to a constable, and he was very sure that Simon and Manners had some kind of fishy business going on that didn’t include Tully. Now Manners had lost out and didn’t like it.
‘Tully’s about, by the way,’ he said, and wondered why he was warning him, but part of him didn’t want to be in the middle of a fracas between Manners and Tully. ‘He’s up on ’top road.’
‘Listen, mate,’ the other man interrupted, shaking a fist at Manners. ‘Do you want these goods or not? If you do, I want my money and if you don’t I’m off. I’m not hanging about round here waiting to be picked up by the damned peelers.’
‘Go with him, Quinn,’ Manners said abruptly and put his hand into his coat pocket. He brought out a handful of coins and counted them. Mikey drew in a breath as he caught the glint of gold and the head of the queen. Five! He watched as Manners reluctantly gave them to the other man. What could be in the consignment that was worth five gold sovereigns?
The man tossed his head to indicate that Mikey should follow him. They walked towards a building close by the wharf’s edge where someone else was waiting next to a handcart. Gilby! So he was in the transaction too.
Gilby frowned when he saw Mikey. ‘What ’you doing ’ere, Quinn? Simon’s supposed to be here.’
‘He’s done a runner wiv the money,’ the first man sneered.
‘Who has?’ Gilby snapped.
‘Simon.’ Mikey sighed. ‘Manners gave him some money and he’s gone. To Canada,’ he added.
‘Two-faced cur!’ Gilby said venomously. ‘I never did trust him. I said right from the off he was up to no good. Toffee-nosed varmint. Come on, give us an ’and.’
Mikey was staggered. It was the longest speech Gilby had ever made. Together they tried to lift the wooden crate off the handcart, but they couldn’t shift it.
‘We can’t lift that!’ Mikey protested. ‘Can’t we borrow ’cart? I’ll bring it back after we’ve unloaded it.’
The stranger hesitated. ‘Yeh, but just dump it; somewhere out of sight. I’ll reckon on it’s gone missing.’
Mikey noticed that the name on the cart denoted a company on St Katharine’s dock. ‘It’s a weight,’ he muttered. ‘That’s not baccy.’
‘Who said it was?’ Gilby blustered. ‘Keep your nose out of what doesn’t concern you, Quinn.’
‘It concerns me if it’s contraband and I’m caught with it,’ Mikey said heatedly. He was getting heartily sick of being told something wasn’t his concern when he would be the first in line at the magistrate’s if they were caught.
Gilby glared at him and then took hold of one of the shafts whilst Mikey took the other. They heaved and the wheels started to move.
‘It’s onny a bit of owd marble,’ Gilby muttered. ‘Nowt to get het up about. Onny don’t let on to Tully. This is summat I arranged wi’ Manners and Simon. We could let you in on it now that Simon’s gone, I suppose, if Manners agrees.’
‘Mebbe.’ Mikey was guarded. ‘How much do I get for today?’
‘Just the going rate,’ Manners told him, when Mikey later asked him the same question. ‘I’m going to have to make up for what I’ve lost through that toad Simon.’
‘That’s not my concern,’ Mikey said boldly; Manners glared at him but made no further comment.
The other men had arrived for work and Mikey directed them to move some of the packing cases in the warehouse to make room for the crate. There were no more consignments due that day and, after consulting with Manners, he laid them off. They grumbled, but he shrugged and said there was nothing he could do about it. If there were no consignments then there was no work, and they wouldn’t get paid.
They’d no sooner left than Manners came out of his office. ‘We’re moving on,’ he said. ‘I’ve found a better storage place.’
‘I’ve just laid ’men off,’ Mikey said in astonishment. Manners must surely have known before he’d told him to do so. ‘We can’t shift this lot on our own.’
‘Yes, we can,’ Manners said. ‘You, me and Gilby and the waggon driver.’
‘What about Tully?’
‘I’ll tell Tully later,’ Manners said. ‘It’s just a precaution. And I’ll recruit fresh men tomorrow. I don’t trust them others and neither do I trust that cur Simon.’
There had been many changes of storage depot over the years and Manners had always said it was a precaution. Against what, Mikey had always wondered, but now he knew. It was a safeguard against the police finding them and what they were up to.
Mikey knew many of the regular dock workers and men on the wharves and they knew him; generally they were suspicious of strangers and guarded their jobs and the goods well, but as one of them had said to Mikey when he first arrived, there would always be somebody who would take advantage. Those who would, he was now convinced, were Manners, Tully and Gilby. All three were working for their own benefit as much as for each other. As for Simon, Manners was probably right about him, he thought. It would be just like him to split to t
he authorities, just before he sailed away.
‘Where are we going?’ he asked Manners.
‘You’ll find out,’ Manners said brusquely. ‘There’ll be a waggon here in ten minutes and we’ll get this lot loaded on to it.’
Mikey thought of the constable who had received a package from Tully. Was he still hanging about? He was in uniform so he must be on duty. Mikey’s gut started to churn. If we’re caught it’ll be prison! I’m not a young lad any more; it’ll be a longer sentence. I can’t stand that – and I’d not be able to see Ellie again.
It was the thought of not seeing Eleanor above all else that decided him. ‘I’ll be back in a minute,’ he called, and sauntered towards a building that contained latrines for the men working nearby.
‘Don’t be long,’ Gilby shouted. ‘Waggon’s on its way.’
‘Tough!’ Mikey muttered and went inside the building. Then, checking that Manners and Gilby had their backs to him, he came straight out and rushed off in the opposite direction. He ran through one of the passageways which led to the top of the access road and came to a sudden halt. The area was swarming with police.
He turned round and ran back until he came to a cut-through running at right angles to the passageway. He slipped down it and came to some iron steps, like a ship’s jack ladder, running up the side of a brick warehouse. Swiftly he climbed up and lay down on the flat roof. From there he could see the whole area. The warehouses and storage buildings covered miles and ran right down to the wharves. He could see the long snaking length of the flowing estuary, the barges, lighters, coal vessels and bigger ships bound for other lands, and he thought for a second of Simon escaping to distant shores.
Then he heard the tramp of feet and saw a platoon of constables marching towards where Manners and Gilby would be waiting, oblivious.
