Gaslight in Page Street (23 page)

The sorry-looking man nodded and hobbled on, leaving Florrie wondering who would be hard-up enough to bother taking Oxford’s size thirteens.

Jack managed to slip into the yard without being spotted by anyone apart from Horace Gallagher, who was looking out of the office window as he hobbled in. The ageing accountant turned to William Tanner who was sitting at a desk going through the worksheets. ‘Jack Oxford’s just come in,’ he said, a puzzled look on this thin face. ‘He’s got his feet wrapped up in sacking. I’m sure the man’s going barmy.’

William sighed as he got up to investigate. As he left the office, he was hailed by a large woman who was standing at the gate.

‘Excuse me, mister, but could you give this to Mr Oxford please?’ she asked, handing him a crumpled bag. ‘I tried ter catch ’im up but ’e was too far in front.’

William eventually located Jack in the store shed and watched, bemused, while the yard man took out a pair of boots from the paper bag and found a piece of paper rolled up in one of them. Jack’s face screwed up as he glanced at the note. ‘’Ere, Will, can yer tell me what this ses?’ he asked. ‘I’ve never bin one fer readin’ an’ writin’.’

William read the message, struggling to keep a straight face:

Dear Jack,

Sorry things had to work out this way. Also I’m sorry if my Arthur scared you. He’s not a violent man really, and I don’t think he would have hit you with that piping. I’m taking him back and we are going to try to make a go of it. He said he still loves me. Look after yourself. You’re a very nice man.

Love, Amy

William handed the note back. ‘So yer lost yer digs then, Jack?’

‘Yeah, but it don’t matter, Will,’ the yard man replied. ‘I’ve got me ole bed back at the doss-’ouse. I went ter see the bloke this mornin’, that’s why I was late. He said I could ’ave me bed back on one condition.’

‘Oh, an’ what’s that?’

‘On condition I always scrape the ’orse shit orf me boots afore I go in,’ Jack said, grinning widely.

Chapter Thirteen

Carrie Tanner was feeling nervous as she waited on the street corner for Billy Sullivan. It was a warm Saturday afternoon in July and the first time she had walked out with a boy. It was true she had got to know Billy and had chatted to him on many occasions but this was her first time out alone in his company, she realised. It had come as a pleasant surprise when she stopped to talk to him on her way home from the factory two nights ago and he had asked if she would like to walk out with him. Carrie felt a very grown-up eighteen as she pushed her wide summer bonnet down on to her head and fidgeted with the satin bow on the front of her tight-fitting dress. Her long fair hair was hanging loose down her back and her high-buttoned boots of patent leather shone in the bright sunlight. She felt a little breathless as she saw Billy leave his house and walk quickly towards her. The bodice of her dress felt tight and she remembered how she had needed her mother to help her button it up.

Carrie smiled as she recalled the remarks her mother had made about her choice of dress. ‘It’s too tight and it shows yer bust off too much,’ she said. ‘It’s cut a bit too low as well. Respectable girls don’t show their wares. I think I ought ter put a few tacks in the front.’

Carrie had managed to persuade her that the dress was not too revealing and that she could not bear to be wrapped for winter on a fine summer’s day. Her mother had relented but had been careful to point out the dangers facing a young girl when she was in the company of a young man such as Billy Sullivan.

‘’E’s a good-lookin’ boy, an’ ’e’s full of ’imself. Yer gotta be careful, Carrie,’ she fussed. ‘Boys don’t ’ave ter face nuffing when they get a gel pregnant. It’s us what ’ave ter bear the shame an’ disgrace. They jus’ brag about it. jus’ be careful, an’ don’t let ’im take no liberties, understand, gel?’

Carrie laughed at her mother’s fears. ‘We’re only goin’ ter the park, Mum. Billy said there’s an ’orse show there this afternoon an’ ’e knows I like ter see the ’orses.’

Nellie had sighed as she watched her daughter leave the house and trip gaily along the cobbled turning. She had grown up so quickly, she thought. Maybe it was for the best that she was now beginning to take an interest in boys. The suffragette movement had been taking up most of her time and she was much too young to get involved in that sort of thing. Carrie had often spoken of those well-dressed women who devoted all their energies to the cause and they sounded a strange lot. There had been much made about it in the papers and at the music halls. Nellie remembered when Will had taken her to the South London Music Hall at the Elephant and Castle a couple of weeks ago and they watched a sketch about the suffragettes. They had been depicted as cigar-smoking women who dressed in monocles and wore their hair short and parted like men. They had eyed younger, pretty girls and made naughty suggestions to them as they put their arms about them. Nellie recalled how disgusted she was and how concerned she had been for her daughter. William had laughed it off when she confided her fears to him about her daughter’s involvement with women like that, but she knew he shared her concern.

As Billy walked up to her with a wide smile on his face, Carrie forgot her mother’s anxieties. She was feeling good, and the young man looked very smart in his dark grey single-breasted suit, starched collar and wide-knotted tie, she thought. Billy was not wearing a hat and his dark, curly hair was pushed back from his forehead. His deep blue eyes seemed to sparkle as he appraised her.

‘Yer look very pretty,’ he said as he fell into step beside her.

‘Yer look smart yerself,’ she replied, feeling her cheeks flush at her audacity.

They crossed Jamaica Road and walked the short distance to Southwark Park with Billy moving dutifully to the outside of the pavement. When they reached the park they saw the gaily decorated horses and carts going through the gates and Carrie gripped Billy’s arm excitedly as she saw the two heavy dray-horses from the Courage brewery enter, pulling a shining, red-painted cart. Inside the park the contestants were manoeuvring into position on the wide gravel path and folk were milling around, the women wearing wide, flowered bonnets and many carrying parasols. The men were all dressed in suits and some wore bowler hats. Children laughed loudly as they rolled around in the grass, and a military brass band played lively music.

‘They’re shire-’orses,’ Carrie said, pointing to the brewery drays. ‘Those are cobs pullin’ that ’ay cart an’ that’s a Clydesdale. We’ve got two o’ them at the yard.’

Billy laughed at her excitement and took her by the arm as they walked along the edge of the path. Carrie felt his touch and shivered slightly. It was the first time they had made any real contact with each other and she could feel the heat of his hand. Billy led her past the parade and over towards the bandstand where the musicians sweated under their stiff uniforms as they blasted out a military march. Carrie stood amongst the gathering crowd and was aware of Billy standing very close behind her. She could feel his breath on the back of her neck and the pressure of his hand on her arm. She found herself becoming strangely elated and turned her head to face him. His blue eyes were looking deeply into hers and she averted her gaze, trying to look as though she was fascinated by the music. Billy merely smiled and led her away from the bandstand, his eyes fixed on her hot face as they walked slowly towards the flower gardens.

The sky was azure and the sun beat down on the gravel path as they entered the high, trellised area, and soon found a shaded bench seat beneath a deep pink flowering clematis. They sat close together and Billy took her hands in his.

‘Yer know yer’ve got pretty lips,’ he remarked, his smile making her feel as though he were mocking her.

She lowered her eyes, and her heart jumped as he slowly leaned forward and kissed her softly. Carrie kept her lips shut tight and her eyes closed until their lips parted, then she looked him firmly in the eye.

‘You’re very forward, Billy,’ she said, two patches of red flooding her cheeks.

He laughed aloud. ‘Yer didn’t mind, did yer?’

Carrie averted her eyes. ‘I dunno,’ she said quickly, becoming more embarrassed beneath his searching gaze. ‘It’s our first time out tergevver.’

Billy leaned back on the bench and slipped his arm along the back rail so that it rested against her slim shoulders. She moved forward and he sat up straight again, taking her hand in his. ‘Do I frighten yer, Carrie?’ he said.

‘’Course not,’ she replied, looking suitably indignant. ‘It’s jus’ . . . well, a gel’s gotta be careful. I wouldn’t want yer ter fink I’m too forward.’

His lips moved towards hers again but she moved back and he sighed deeply. ‘Look, Carrie,’ he said quietly, ‘I’ve known yer fer a long time an’ I’ve always liked yer a lot. There’s no ’arm in me kissin’ yer. We’re not doin’ anyfing wrong.’

She looked at him, her eyes searching his open face. ‘I know. It’s jus’ that I like yer too, an’ I’m nervous,’ she told him. ‘Yer make me feel shaky an’ sort of funny inside. I can’t ’elp it.’

He leaned forward and this time she did not resist. Their lips met in a warm kiss and his arms went around her tensed body. They heard a scraping sound on the flagstones and parted suddenly. A woman had walked into the garden area carrying a young baby in her arms. She sat down on the far seat, cooing to the baby melodiously.

Billy grinned at Carrie. ‘Let’s go an’ watch the parade, shall we?’

The afternoon had become slightly cooler as the hot sun started to dip in the clear sky, and tired children were being led home by their fussing parents. The show horses and carts had already departed and it was becoming quiet. Carrie walked beside Billy and they talked together amiably.

‘I wanna get ter be a good boxer, Carrie,’ he said with a serious expression. ‘I’ll even be the British champion one day. I don’t wanna spend the rest o’ me life stuck in that factory. I want people ter see me in the street an’ say, “There goes Billy Sullivan. ’E’s the British champion.” I want the kids ter run up ter me an’ I’ll give ’em pennies jus’ like Pedlar Palmer does.’

‘Who’s Pedlar Palmer?’ Carrie asked.

‘Pedlar Palmer is the champion,’ Billy answered quickly. ‘When ’e’s seen about there’s always people followin’ ’im. ’E gives the kids sweets and chucks pennies down on the pavement. Everybody knows Pedlar Palmer. They even say ’e’s goin’ ter America soon ter fight fer the world title. That’s what I wanna do, Carrie,’ he said with passion, making two fists and holding them out in front of him. ‘It’s all I ever wanted ter do.’

She was a little embarrassed by his fervour and smiled shyly at him. ‘Don’t yer wanna get married one day?’ she asked. ‘Don’t yer want a wife an’ kids?’

Billy nodded. ‘’Course I do, Carrie, but I don’t wanna be nobody. I don’t wanna struggle like me dad ’as to ter fend fer us all. Look around yer. Look at Bacon Street Buildin’s an’ that fever-ridden slum in Salisbury Street. Look at the faces o’ those people. They’ve all got that same look o’ despair. The women are old before their time an’ the men are all coughin’ up their lungs an’ spittin’ in the gutter. Look at the people beggin’ fer coppers, an’ the kids ’angin’ around in rags wiv that starved look on their faces. It’s not fer me, Carrie,’ he said with a will.

She was moved and roused by his outspokenness. She herself had felt those same feelings of disgust and anger growing inside her at the way people around her were forced to exist. She had been angered too by the way in which the suffragette movement was being ridiculed and discounted by her own kind. It seemed to her that unless women got the vote nothing would change. People would still remain in fever-ridden hovels and women would continue to grow old before their time, having to bear the brunt of bringing up large families and struggling to make the money stretch from week to week by taking in washing, scrubbing floors and going without food and clothes themselves. Billy’s words had moved her and, companionably, she slipped her arm in his as they walked out of the park gates.

It was evening time and the sun had sunk down behind the rooftops as Carrie walked beside Billy along the river wall. The quiet warehouses were darkened by lengthening shadows and she could smell the river mud and the tang of hops from the brewery. The low river flowed away eastwards. On the foreshore barges were lying beached on the mud. Seagulls wheeled and dived, screeching noisily as they searched for scraps, and the muddy waters eddied and formed small whirlpools on the turning tide. Carrie sighed contentedly as she looked downriver and saw the colours of evening disappear from the sky. It had been very nice walking out with Billy and listening to his dreams. She had been startled by his sudden show of affection but she had enjoyed his kiss. Now, as they trod the cobbled lane that ran between the tall wharves and warehouses, they both lapsed into silence. They were completely alone and their footsteps sounded loudly as they reached the white stone arch which led under Tower Bridge.

It was then that Billy led her into the shadows of a doorway and turned to face her, his body close to hers. Carrie’s heart was pounding madly and her breath was coming fast. She let him press his lips on hers in a passionate kiss that seemed to linger forever. She knew she should push him away and hurry from this unfamiliar, dark place but instead she let the kiss go on. She felt his hands moving down her body, slowly at first and then more urgently. Warning bells sounded loudly in her mind and as his groping hands slipped around inside her thighs she tensed and pushed him from her.