A Mother's Trust (22 page)

‘My family will return from Italy in less than a month,’ Phoebe said, working the bellows energetically. ‘It’s really quite cramped when we’re all here together.’ She smiled to herself at the thought of seeing her grandparents again. She was even looking forward to seeing her volatile uncles after months of separation. She wondered if they would bring wives home with them this time. Nonno was always telling them that it was high time they married and continued the Giamatti line. She rose to her feet, satisfied that there would soon be a good blaze, and she picked up the soot-blackened kettle. ‘Come outside with me, Ivy. I’ll show you where to find the pump and the privy. You’ll need both while you’re staying here.’ She led the way out through the scullery and into the back yard.

Ivy looked up at the high walls of the surrounding buildings and she wrinkled her nose. ‘It smells something terrible here.’

‘You’ll get used to it.’ Phoebe took Teddy from her, placing the kettle in Ivy’s hand. ‘There, I’m sure you know how to work a pump. You’ll feel better about things when you’ve had a nice hot cup of tea and
something
to eat. Judy packed some food for us, so we’ll be fine until tomorrow when I’ll take you to the market and show you where to get the best bargains.’

‘I don’t ever have to go out on me own, do I? I’m scared of this horrible place.’ Ivy pumped the handle too hard, spilling water over her shoes. ‘Oh Gawd, now I’m all wet. I can’t be doing with this. It’s like trying to piss into a thimble. At home we had a well and a bucket.’

‘It just takes a bit of practice,’ Phoebe said, trying hard to be patient. She forced her lips into a smile. ‘Never mind, you’ll soon dry out by the fire. There should be enough water in the kettle now. Let’s go inside.’

Ivy cast an anxious glance around the yard filled with barrels, buckets, a zinc bath and Nonno’s handcart in which he collected the ice. She shuddered. ‘I bet London rats are as big as dogs.’

‘Not quite.’ Phoebe shooed her indoors, wondering silently how she was going to cope with a simple country woman who was scared of her own shadow and patently terrified by everything in the city. She shivered as a cold wind whipped between the buildings and she covered Teddy with her shawl as she hurried into the comparative warmth of the house. Even more pressing was the problem she held in her arms. She adored Teddy, but how she was going to present him to her family was a constant worry. Time was running out and she would have to think of something.

IN THE DAYS
that followed Phoebe began to regret bringing Ivy to London. She was too afraid to go out to market on her own and had to sleep in the same room as Phoebe at night, fearing that she would be murdered in her bed if she slept alone. Ivy had a fit of hysteria when Phoebe told her that she planned to hold a séance, and when she attempted to explain the proceedings to her, Ivy ran away and hid in the broom cupboard for several hours until hunger won and she crept into the kitchen as if expecting to see a ghost. It was fortunate perhaps that Phoebe had not found any would-be clients in their first couple of weeks, but the money was running low and one morning, having left Ivy to look after the baby, she set off for the market with her basket over her arm. She had food to purchase but she hoped that she might meet some of her mother’s regular patrons.

She bought vegetables in Farringdon market as well as flour and eggs, deciding that she would attempt to make pasta as she had seen Nonna do on countless occasions. It was cheap and nourishing and she hoped that it was easy. She was busy choosing apples when she was suddenly aware of someone standing very close to her. She looked up into the blue-green eyes of
Rogue
Paxman. He doffed his hat, smiling. ‘Miss Giamatti. This is a pleasant surprise.’

She recovered quickly. He must not suspect that she had anything to hide. ‘I might say the same, Mr Paxman. This is the last place I would expect to see you.’

He picked up an apple and bit into it. It was an oddly youthful and unselfconscious action that belied the hint of arrogance in his stance. She turned away as if intent on selecting the best fruit, and she willed him to move on before he started asking questions. If he mentioned her mother she was afraid she would burst into tears. She had put a brave face on her loss but inwardly her feelings were raw, and she was still in the first painful stage of grief.

‘I often come to market,’ he said, tossing a coin to the stallholder. ‘I’ll take a pound of apples, but serve the young lady first.’

‘You’re very polite all of a sudden.’ Phoebe cast him a sideways glance, her curiosity aroused. ‘And I can’t believe that you’re here just to buy apples. That’s not what you do.’

He angled his head. ‘And what do you think it is that I do to occupy my time, apart of course from the criminal activities that men like me carry out under cover of darkness.’

‘That’ll be tuppence ha’penny, miss.’ The stallholder held out his hand.

She had very little money left but the cabbage, potatoes and carrots would make a nourishing soup even though she could not afford a beef bone to
enhance
the flavour. She put the apples back on the pile.

‘Allow me.’ Paxman scooped the fruit onto the scales and paid for them. Then, much to her embarrassment, he placed them in her basket.

‘No, really. I can’t accept.’ She tried to give them back but he shook his head.

‘Take them as a small gift for Annie then. We haven’t seen her around for months, so we thought you must both have gone to Italy with the family. I’m sure my brother misses her company.’

Shaking her head she hurried off, and fighting back tears she pushed through the crowd of women at the entrance to the market. She had only gone a few paces along Stonecutter Street when Paxman caught up with her. ‘What did I say to upset you? It wasn’t my intention to make you cry.’

‘I’m not crying,’ she muttered, dashing away the tears with her hand. ‘I had something in my eye.’

He drew her to a halt. ‘My brother is genuinely fond of Annie. He was quite put out when she disappeared without a word.’

She bowed her head, unable to speak. Paxman took her by the arm and guided her across the street to a coffee house frequented by the market traders. The interior was dark and steamy, with a strong smell of roasted coffee beans mingling with tobacco smoke. The occasional fall of burning soot sizzled as it hit the live coals in the fire basket, sending out a shower of sparks like a miniature firework display. The small-paned windows were veiled in condensation and the
booths
were packed with men drinking tea and coffee, their voices a constant hum accompanied by the clink of spoons as they stirred sugar into their beverages. Paxman approached a table close to the fireplace. A man dressed in a green-tinged black suit with leather patches at the elbows and a stiff white collar was already seated at the table, but at the sight of Rogue Paxman hovering over him, he drained his cup and scrambled to his feet. ‘Just going, sir.’ He made a grab for his bowler hat and rammed it on his head, nodding to Phoebe as he headed for the street door.

‘Take a seat, Miss Giamatti.’ Coming from Paxman’s lips it was more of an order than an invitation. Phoebe sank down on the wooden settle and fumbled in her reticule in search of the hanky that Judy had given her for Christmas, which was identical to the ones she had presented to Dolly, Madame and Gussie. Phoebe blew her nose and wiped her eyes as she struggled to regain an outward show of composure, but when she looked up Paxman had gone and she was alone at the table. She could see him at the counter, talking to the serving girl. She weighed up her chances of escaping, but decided against such an action as it would only arouse his curiosity further. By the time he returned with the coffee she had worked out how much of the truth she would tell him.

He set a cup in front of her and took a seat opposite. ‘Now perhaps you would like to tell me what’s wrong.’

‘Nothing,’ she said stoutly. ‘At least nothing that concerns you, Mr Paxman.’

‘I think we know each other well enough to dispense
with
the formalities, Phoebe. My name is Roger, as you know, although Rogue will do as I told you once before.’

‘My mother died of lung disease in Brighton.’ The words came out in a rush and she had the grim satisfaction of seeing him flinch.

His smile faded. ‘I’m sorry. I liked Annie, and my brother will take it quite badly. Whatever you’ve heard of us, Phoebe, we are not the villains some people make us out to be.’

‘You’re not clergymen either.’ She met his intense gaze steadily. ‘I know your reputation, Rogue. You offer protection from the high mob to shopkeepers and small businesses for a fee that most of them can ill afford. You make money out of other people’s misfortune.’

‘Not at all. We keep the peace. We protect those who are loyal to us and give no quarter to our enemies. Is that so wrong?’

She shrugged her shoulders. ‘The police think it is.’

He acknowledged this barb with a reluctant smile. ‘We have inside knowledge that they don’t possess. You could say we’re doing a public service.’

She sipped the coffee. It was the best she had tasted since Nonna left London. ‘Why are you bothering with me? What I do can be of no interest to you.’

‘Tell me why you and your mother fled to Brighton. One day you were here; the next you’d gone. Ned came looking for Annie and found the house locked and shuttered.’

This was the time to give him just enough of the
truth
to keep him satisfied. ‘My mother thought she’d killed Snape. She was foolish enough to go to his rooms and he tried to seduce her. She hit him over the head and she ran away. We were afraid that the police would come after her so we went to our cousin in Brighton.’

Paxman threw back his head and laughed. ‘It would take more than a little scrap like Annie to finish off a bastard like Snape. I can assure you that he’s alive and still as annoying as ever. That man has a skin as thick as an elephant’s.’

‘It’s not funny,’ Phoebe whispered as she realised that people were staring at them. ‘He could have set the police on her.’

‘So she escaped from the clutches of the law. Don’t you think that puts you both on the same side as us miscreants?’

Phoebe rose to her feet. ‘I’m glad you think it’s funny. I must be going now.’

He caught her by the hand. ‘I’m truly sorry to hear about Annie.’ He stood up, reaching for his top hat. ‘Allow me to walk you home.’

She said nothing until they were outside in the street and when he offered her his arm she shook her head. ‘No, thank you. I can manage to find my way back to Saffron Hill. I won’t trouble you further.’ She started walking but to her consternation he fell into step beside her.

‘You need funds. I saw how you handled what little money you had in your purse. I realise that without Annie you must be struggling.’

Phoebe stopped, meeting his eyes with a steady gaze.
‘There’s
no need to concern yourself. My family and my fiancé will be returning home in a couple of weeks. I have enough to live on, and even if I didn’t I’m perfectly capable of earning an honest living.’

‘Your fiancé?’ He seized her left hand, staring at the gold signet ring which she had placed on her middle finger for safe keeping. ‘I see no engagement ring.’

She snatched her hand free. ‘I don’t see that it’s any business of yours, Rogue Paxman. Gino and I are unofficially engaged and will be married quite soon.’

‘He’s a lucky fellow, but if I were him I wouldn’t have gone off and left my woman to fend for herself all winter.’ He put his hand in his pocket and pulled out a gold sovereign which he tucked into her reticule before she had a chance to protest. ‘That is a loan to tide you over until your family returns. Gino can repay me then, and you need not feel obliged to me as I’ll charge him interest.’

Phoebe struggled with the strings on her reticule in an attempt to retrieve the coin and return it to him, but he walked off before she could extricate it from the folds of her hanky. ‘Stop,’ she called, hurrying after him. ‘I don’t want your money.’ She glared at a group of young street arabs who were openly mocking her. ‘Stop, please.’

He paused, looking over his shoulder. ‘Call it a fee then. I’ll book your services for ten o’clock tomorrow morning. Good day to you, Phoebe.’

She could hardly break into a run without losing face and the filthy, ragged urchins were crowding round her shouting taunts. Holding her head high,
she
quickened her pace and hurried homeward. She could not believe that he was serious about attending a séance and she put his request out of her mind as she concentrated on the more important task of feeding her small family. Ivy barely knew how to boil water to make tea, and it transpired that she had rarely eaten anything other than bread and scrape with a morsel of cheese on special occasions. She came from a large impecunious family and her father, an itinerant farm labourer, struggled to provide for his brood of fifteen children. How they managed to live in a one up, one down cob cottage on the outskirts of Brighton was a mystery to Phoebe, but having listened to Ivy talking about her parents and siblings she could understand a little better her natural desire to return to the place she knew and loved. Her common law husband had gone away to sea as soon as he knew that she was in the family way and had not been seen or heard of since. Poor Ivy, Phoebe thought as she rolled out her first attempt at pasta dough, life had dealt her a rotten hand and losing her baby must have been the cruellest blow. She must be more patient with her and make allowances when she refused to go out alone or even venture upstairs to the top floor in the dark unless Phoebe lit her way with a candle. She must not expect her to help in the séances, and she must hope that Ivy’s milk would not dry up until Teddy was old enough to be weaned.

The pasta was a moderate success, although Phoebe was not sure what her grandmother would have made of her efforts. The vegetable soup was edible,
if
rather bland, and she wished that she had paid more attention to Nonna’s use of herbs and spices in her cooking. Ivy ate ravenously, as if every mouthful was to be her last, and try as she might Phoebe could not convince her that there would be more to come later. At least Ivy was uncritical and if the soup lacked flavour she did not complain. With the gold sovereign tucked away in Nonna’s housekeeping jar on the mantelshelf, Phoebe was confident that they could keep themselves in food until the family returned. The coin had felt hot in her hand and she hated being beholden to Rogue Paxman, but she did not think for a moment that he would keep his appointment. When Gino came home she would borrow the money from him and repay her debt to the man she wished she had never met. Or at least she wished that her mother had not allowed herself to fall in love with Ned. The two brothers were indivisible in her mind, and she blamed them both for the death of her parents. Quite suddenly she found herself missing Gino. He was the one person who knew and understood her present dilemma. He was kind, honourable and steady; the sort of man who would make an excellent husband and father. When she laid her head on the pillow that night she decided that she would give him his answer on his return. She would do her best to make him a good wife.