by Kitty Neale
Sarah turned with two plates in hand, and scanned the room. She decided it now looked quite homely. She’d scrubbed the walls and managed to remove most of the mould, though she knew it would soon return. The yellowing wallpaper which had been hanging off the walls was now temporarily fixed back with a paste Sarah had made from flour and water. The second-hand furniture was neatly arranged, and they even had a pretty bit of green material at the window that matched the green rug.
‘Come and eat your supper,’ Sarah said, and sat on one of the armchairs with her plate on her lap.
‘When are we going to see George again?’ Tommy asked as he ate his fritter.
‘Don’t talk with food in your mouth,’ Sarah replied, then added, ‘I don’t know. I haven’t managed to find anything for him to sell for us.’
‘Let’s go back to the river then. There might be more treasure.’
Sarah rolled her eyes as if it was a ridiculous suggestion, but she had already contemplated the idea herself. After all, she hadn’t managed to find any suitable stock, and their money was rapidly diminishing. With her funds running low, she was getting worried and regretted spending so much on furniture. She should have waited until she’d found stock for George to sell, but hadn’t been able to resist furnishing the room.
Sarah was eating the last mouthful of her fritter when she heard a knock on the door. ‘Just a minute,’ she called, guessing it was Mo from upstairs.
She’d bumped into Mo a week earlier when they’d both gone to use the shared bathroom. Mo had relayed her life story in a matter of minutes, and from what Sarah could understand, Mo was living in sin with Samuel, her West Indian boyfriend, and her family had ostracised her.
Sarah had instantly liked Mo’s bubbly personality. With her red hair which framed her blue eyes, Sarah thought she was one of the prettiest women she’d ever met, and hoped Mo would become a good friend.
She opened the door, but gasped in shock. Mo’s face was swollen and bruised almost beyond recognition. ‘Oh, no, what’s happened?’ she asked, and gestured Mo in.
Mo walked in and instantly began to cry.
‘Tommy, go outside and play. Make sure you don’t leave the street. I’ll be watching you from the window,’ Sarah said.
‘But … I haven’t got any friends,’ Tommy answered slowly, looking stunned at the sight of Mo.
‘Well, go and flippin’ make some,’ Sarah said firmly.
Tommy skulked out of the room, and Sarah turned her attention to Mo. ‘Sit down, I’ll put the kettle on.’
‘It looks nice in here,’ Mo said and sniffed.
‘Thanks. Please tell me Samuel hasn’t done that to you.’
‘Of course not!’ Mo said, sounding indignant. ‘He’d never hurt me. It was my dad. He came round this morning and ’cos I wouldn’t come home with him, well, you can see for yourself.’
‘Oh, Mo, that’s awful. Where’s Samuel? Does he know?’ Sarah asked.
‘No, and by the time he gets back I’m hoping I’ll be all better. He’s over the East End for a few days, visiting his brother. I reckon my dad knew he was away and that’s why he turned up. He wouldn’t have shown his face if Samuel was home, I’m bloody sure of it.’
‘That’s a nasty shiner, Mo, and your lip is split. I wouldn’t count on that healing before Samuel comes home.’
‘Oh, blimey, what am I going to do? I don’t want my Sam getting into trouble, but if he knows my dad did this to me, he’ll kill him, I know he will.’
Mo began to sob harder, so Sarah rushed over and tried to offer some comfort by placing her arm around the woman’s shoulders. ‘Don’t worry, Mo, we’ll think of something. Maybe we can make up a story about you getting mugged in the street or something.’
‘Yeah, I suppose that could work,’ she agreed, drawing in a juddering breath. ‘Oh, Sarah, I hate my dad. He’s always been heavy-fisted with me and my mum but he’s never laid a hand on my brothers. He’s a bloody coward, that’s what he is. A coward and a bully. My Samuel’s worth ten of him.’
Sarah had never known what it was like to have a father, and though she’d envied Jenny having a dad, she realised they weren’t all good. ‘He’s done this to you before then?’ she asked, trying not to sound too surprised.
‘Oh, yeah, this ain’t unusual. When I told Sam about how my dad would hit me, he wanted to go round to give him a good hiding. Oh, Sarah, Samuel must never know the truth about this. Promise me you won’t say anything?’
‘Of course I won’t,’ Sarah reassured her new friend.
‘Thanks,’ Mo said, and winced as she sipped her tea.
‘Can I do anything to help?’ Sarah asked.
‘No, I’ve patched myself up as best I could, but I just needed to get out of that room and speak to someone. It felt like the walls were closing in on me, and then I got scared that my dad might come back.’
‘Tell you what, why don’t you stay down here with me ’til Samuel gets home? Tommy can get in with me so you can have his bed.’
‘Oh, I don’t know. That’s ever so kind of you, but I don’t want to be a burden or nothing.’
‘Don’t be daft. It’ll be nice to have someone my own age to talk to for a change. Don’t get me wrong, I love Tommy to death, but his conversation can be a bit limited.’
‘If you’re sure, I’d love to. I’ll nip back upstairs and get a few bits and bobs … will you come up with me?’
‘Yes, but let me just look out on Tommy first.’
Sarah walked over to the sink and glanced out the window. She could see Tommy leaning against a wall watching a small group of boys playing marbles. She hoped he would join in with their game, but for now she was satisfied he was safe, and proceeded upstairs to Mo’s room.
When Mo opened the door and Sarah followed her in, she stood in awe as she gazed around the room. The walls were adorned with paintings of brightly coloured, exotic flowers. They were so vivid, Sarah almost felt as if she could inhale their fragrant scent.
‘Lovely, ain’t they?’ Mo said.
‘I’ve never seen nothing like them,’ Sarah replied. ‘They’re beautiful.’
‘Samuel painted them. He’s an artist, and was getting quite a name for himself in Jamaica. Trouble was, his younger brother saw one of them ads about the better life in Britain and got sucked in by it. Samuel didn’t want to let him come across alone, so they both got a cheap ticket on the Windrush ship, and now the best he can hope for is a stinking job on the railway.’
‘Couldn’t he sell his paintings?’ Sarah asked.
‘He tried, but people round here ain’t into this sort of art. It’s a bit too “foreign” for them. He tried over Chelsea way, but none of the galleries were interested in him. It ain’t easy being a black man in a white man’s country.’
Sarah had never thought about it before. She’d seen signs outside some boarding houses saying, ‘No blacks or Irish’, but she’d never understood why. She stared at one of the paintings as Mo rushed around throwing some clothes into a bag.
‘I’ll just scribble him a quick note to let him know where I am,’ Mo said.
Sarah nodded, hardly noticing what Mo had said. She found the paintings fascinating and wondered if Samuel was as striking as his artwork. Then, to her surprise, she felt her belly flip as the thought of Roger popped into her head. She’d found him striking too, and cringed at the memory of their first meeting and her dumbstruck behaviour. She didn’t have anything to give to George to sell, but nonetheless she’d visit the market tomorrow and hope to bump into Roger again.
Chapter 14
It was unseasonably warm for March, and as always, Fridays were good days for George. He’d found that women loved to have something different to wear for a weekend night out, whether it be a dance or the cinema. So, every Friday morning, he’d set his stall up to display his fanciest goods. Today was no exception, and the pleasant weather promised to bring him plenty of custom. His star item this week was a fur stole he’d acquired f
rom a house clearance of an elderly lady who had passed away. As he placed it in a prime position, he thought it oozed class and elegance, then thought how lovely it would look across Sarah’s shoulders. He could imagine her wearing it, but wished he hadn’t, as now he knew he’d be stuck with her image in his head for the rest of the day.
‘That’s right nice, that is …’ Roger said.
‘Yes, it is,’ George replied and turned to look at his friend.
Roger was leaning against his stall with his arms folded, eyeing up a young lady walking along the other side of the road. That’s when he realised Roger wasn’t referring to the fur stole but to the woman.
The woman seemed to sense she was being stared at, and turned to look at Roger before flashing him a sultry smile. It was no surprise to George. He was used to seeing girls almost drop at Roger’s feet. He just hoped the man would keep his hands off Sarah.
The morning whizzed by, and George patted his money belt, pleased with his takings. He’d been busy so hadn’t had a lot of time to think about Sarah, but as he stretched his back and looked around the market, he felt his pulse quicken when he saw her walking towards him. He thought she looked different, smarter maybe, or did she have a new hairstyle?
As she got closer, he couldn’t help but smile broadly. There was no hiding how pleased he was to see her. He wanted to open his arms and for her to fall into them, and to feel the soft caress of her lips on his. Instead, Tommy came gleefully running up to him and gave him a warm hug. Sarah said hello, but George’s heart sank when he noticed she was looking over his shoulder, probably searching for Roger.
‘I was getting worried about you. I thought you was going to bring me some gear to sell?’ George said, hoping to grab her full attention.
‘Erm … yes … I was … I am,’ Sarah replied. ‘I’ve been looking for stuff, but I just don’t know where to start. Truth is, I’m seriously giving some thought to going back to look on the Thames banks.’
‘Can’t say I blame you considering what you’ve found there before. I bet there’s all sorts down in that mud. ’Ere, I’ve got a new nickname for you – the mudlark,’ George said with a snicker.
‘The mudlark, what sort of name is that?’ Sarah asked.
‘It was given to kids who used to scavenge on the banks when Queen Vic was on the throne. You want to be careful though, ’cos I’m pretty sure it’s against the law now.’
‘Well, I don’t suppose the police are going to be bothered about me picking up a few bits and pieces. It’s unlikely that I’ll find any more jewellery, but when I was down there before, I did see a few clay pipes and some funny-looking shells. I had a nose in the fishmonger’s yesterday and saw them in there – oysters. The shells are proper ugly outside but they’re ever so pretty on the inside. I was thinking maybe I could fashion some jewellery from them.’
Those shells are just like me, thought George. If only she could look at me in the same way as the oyster shells, and see past my ugliness. He doubted it would happen though. He had to push his gloomy thoughts to one side.
‘I’ll be interested to see what you manage to make with clay pipes and oyster shells, but I’ll have a go at selling whatever you bring me,’ George said, and winked at Tommy.
‘Thanks, I’ll see what I can do.’
‘So if you haven’t found anything for me to sell yet, what brings you down here today?’ George asked, but he’d already guessed it was something to do with his mate on the next stall.
‘Nothing really. I just thought I’d have a mooch around,’ Sarah said, her eyes immediately going to Roger’s stall.
He must have sensed her eyes on him, because he turned to her with a smile.
‘Hello, Sarah.’
George thought he looked as if he was undressing her with his eyes, and wanted to tell him to bugger off, but instead bit his tongue.
‘Hi, Roger,’ she answered coyly.
‘Would you like an apple, Tommy? I’ve got some nice juicy ones.’
Tommy nodded enthusiastically, and Roger walked to his stall and returned with two large Coxes.
‘One for you,’ Roger said and handed Tommy an apple, ‘and one for the pretty lady.’
As he gave Sarah the apple, George noticed Roger’s fingers momentarily stroke her hand. He clenched his fists as his anger rose. Roger knew how he felt about Sarah. What sort of mate would step on his toes like this? He’d have words with him, but it would have to wait until later, when Sarah and Tommy were out of earshot.
On her way home, Sarah felt as though she was floating on air as she recalled the way Roger had looked at her. She’d found it difficult to meet his gaze, and had averted her eyes to the ground, sure he’d see her feelings in them. She bit into the apple he’d given her, and remembered the tingle of his touch on her skin. At the time, she’d quickly pulled her hand away, but now she imagined how it would feel to kiss him.
‘Fancy a cuppa?’ Mo called from over the upstairs banister as soon as they stepped into the hall. She had moved back up to her own room when Samuel was away longer than expected, and so far, thankfully, there hadn’t been any further trouble from her family.
‘Can I go out to play?’ Tommy asked, tugging on her arm.
Sarah had been happy to see Tommy had made some new friends, but they had work to do on the Thames banks. ‘Yes, but only for ten minutes. We’ve got to go treasure hunting again.’
‘Oh, but I want to play with Micky and Larry …’
‘You can leave him here with me, Sarah. I ain’t going nowhere,’ Mo offered. She worked in the evenings as an usherette at the Grand Picture House, and had offered Sarah free tickets.
‘If you’re sure, that would be great, thanks. I’ll have this cuppa and get going. Tommy, you can go out, but behave yourself and do what Mo tells you.’
Tommy ran out of the front door, and Sarah smiled at her friend.
‘Who is he then?’ Mo asked.
‘I don’t know what you mean,’ Sarah replied. She could feel her cheeks flushing, as she hadn’t realised her feelings for Roger were so transparent.
‘I know that look. You’ve got a boyfriend, haven’t you?’
‘No … but I have met this gorgeous bloke …’
‘I knew it! Has he asked you out on a date?’
‘Not yet, but even if he did, I’m not sure I could go.’
‘Why not?’ Mo asked.
‘Well, there’s Tommy to think about …’
‘Don’t let that stop you. When I’m home I can always have him, and on my evening off. From what you’ve told me, you deserve a bloody good night out!’
Minutes later, Sarah had finished her tea and set off for Battersea Bridge with Mo’s words still buzzing in her head. If Roger asked her out, there was no reason why she couldn’t accept. She wasn’t homeless any more, she had new clothes, soap and a comb. If she found anything good on the banks today, she might even treat herself to a hairbrush and a new lipstick, a pink one, just like the one Mo wore.
Before long, she was on the bridge and looking out along the Thames, but to her dismay the tide was in, and murky water covered the banks. She wouldn’t be searching for anything she could sell today. Her heart sank and she also began to feel a bit panicky. She’d been too quick to spend money on things, and now she didn’t have much left to put into purchasing stock. Until Tommy started school she couldn’t find a job, and even then, with school hours, it would have to be part-time. She’d been depending on finding things in the mud and slumped with disappointment.
‘Sarah, is that you?’
Sarah turned to see Jenny, her old friend from the tenement blocks, walking towards her from the other side of the bridge. ‘Jenny! I haven’t seen you in ages. How are you?’ Sarah asked, genuinely surprised and pleased to see her.
‘I’m all right, just on my way home from work. What about you?’
‘Yes, not bad, thanks. Me and Tommy are living just off Shuttleworth Street now. We’ve got a room there. Where are
you working?’
‘In a big house in Chelsea for Mrs Alderton-Steele. I do the cleaning. It’s all right, but the lady is a bit weird sometimes. She’s got this son called Godfrey who blinking hates me ’cos he tried it on with me once and I told him where to get off! How’s Tommy?’
‘He’s fine. In fact, I’ll be getting him into school soon.’
‘I’m sorry to hear about your mum …’
‘What about my mum?’ Sarah asked.
‘Oh, I assumed you’d heard … she’s not well.’
‘She’s not been well for years, Jenny, we both know that.’
‘No, this is serious, Sarah. I think … she’s dying,’ Jenny said awkwardly.
Sarah caught her breath. She hadn’t been expecting to hear that. It hadn’t been that long since she’d left home. How could her mother have suddenly gone so far downhill? She’d never thought of her mother’s demise, and somehow just imagined she would live forever.
‘I can see I’ve shocked you. Tell you what, why don’t you walk back with me and call in to see her?’
‘I … I don’t know, Jenny. We didn’t exactly part on good terms.’
‘Come on, you’ll regret it if you don’t.’
‘Yes, probably. All right then,’ Sarah reluctantly agreed.
As they walked, she asked, ‘Do you know what’s wrong with her?’
‘Yes, it’s some medical word called sir … eye … orsus, or something like that. My mum said it’s her liver that’s packed up ’cos of all the booze. She’s refusing to go into hospital though, so my mum is doing what she can and that bloke Eddy has been to see her a few times. Maybe she’d listen to you and go to the hospital if you told her to?’
‘I doubt it, my mother has never listened to me before.’
‘But it’s different now, you know, with her being so poorly.’
The rest of the journey was filled with small talk until Sarah found herself at the bottom of the concrete stairs that led to her mother’s flat. She’d vowed she’d never come back here, and recalled the night her mother had chased them out with a cane in her hand.
