Authors: Dilly Court
Later that morning Effie left Georgie playing happily with the youngest Crooke boys while she went out looking for a suitable place to rent. Tom went with her, studying advertisements in shop windows in the hope of finding work, but all the vacancies seemed to be for able-bodied men and there was nothing suitable for a boy of his age.
They scoured the streets of Bow all day but the premises they saw were either too expensive or too appalling even to consider. There were attics with leaking roofs housing poverty-stricken families and rats in equal proportions, or cellars stinking worse than sewers with ten or twenty people to a room. Effie and Tom were used to the confined conditions on the narrowboat and the caravan, but they found the way people lived in this part of the city was too dreadful to contemplate. They returned to Phoebe Street tired and dispirited.
Betty was sympathetic but unsurprised by their failure to find somewhere suitable to live. As to work, she shrugged her shoulders. There were many unemployed, especially amongst the very young and those advanced in years. Beggars on street corners and in shop doorways were a common sight and the soup
kitchens did a roaring trade. She assured Effie that they were welcome to stay as long as necessary and were not putting the Crooke family out in the least. After a few days in the Crooke household Effie realised that Betty had been speaking the truth. The more the merrier was her favourite saying when the house was crammed to bursting point with friends and family. People seemed to gravitate to Betty and her stoical husband. There was always a fire burning and a kettle simmering on the range. Cups of tea and slices of Betty’s famous cake were dispensed with open-handed hospitality and no one was turned away from the door of number fifteen Phoebe Street.
The days turned into weeks and a balmy September gave way to a chilly October with rain and gales sweeping the streets almost clean, but not quite. Tom earned a little as a crossing sweeper and Effie did her best to help Betty in the house, although she spent most of the day tramping the streets in the hope of finding a home they could afford on the dwindling amount of money left in her purse.
Georgie’s second birthday came round all too quickly in late November and Betty baked him a chocolate cake. The Crooke children made paper hats from old newspapers and Effie bought him a warm jacket from a dolly shop. It was slightly too big but Betty said
cheerfully that he would soon grow into it. The cuffs were a little frayed but Effie stitched them so neatly that the garment looked almost like new. Tom had spent some of his earnings on a tin monkey that climbed a pole when its strings were pulled. He had found it at the bottom of a box filled with junk in the pawnshop in Limehouse, and the other children eyed it enviously. After supper, which had to be taken in shifts as there was only room for six people to sit at the table at any one time and even then it was a bit of a squash, the women washed the pots and pans in the scullery and the men sat round the fire smoking their pipes and roll-up cigarettes.
‘That was a good meal, Betty love,’ Fred said, patting his stomach. ‘Boiled mutton is my favourite dinner.’
She smiled, dropping a kiss on his bald pate as she walked past his chair. ‘I know that, ducks. It was a bit of an extravagance, but it’s the nipper’s second birthday and we all deserve a treat.’
‘A pint of ale would go down nicely,’ Fred said, receiving a grunt of assent from his sons.
‘And I’d say you was welcome to go to the pub and down a couple,’ Betty said, shaking her head. ‘But we’re saving up for our Elsie’s wedding in January. We’ve got to send her off in style.’
This statement brought another murmur of agreement from the brothers and their father. Effie had been wiping Georgie’s sticky hands and face with a damp cloth during this conversation and she was struck again by a feeling of guilt. She paid her way, but she still felt beholden to the family who had taken her in, and there was still no sign of either work or a house they could afford to rent. It was then that an idea came to her in a flash of inspiration. She smiled to herself and she kissed Georgie’s rosy cheek as she set him down on the floor. She knew exactly how she would repay the Crookes’ kindness.
Next day she wrapped her shawl around her head and shoulders against the bitter wind blowing in from the east. She knew the streets well by now and she made her way across Bow Common Bridge to the market in Randall Street, where she found costermongers vying for position in front of the more fashionable lock-up shops in the covered marketplace. What might be bad for trade for the shopkeepers proved to be a boon to someone with only a little money to spare and Effie returned to Phoebe Street laden with parcels. With a project in mind, she felt her spirits rise. Ignoring the inquisitive questions from Bella, the youngest Crooke girl, Effie went outside to the washhouse and filled the copper with
water from the pump. She lit a fire and stood back to wait for the water to reach the correct heat, which Nellie had told her was when she could see her face reflected on the still surface as if she were looking into a mirror. She had been an apt pupil in the art of brewing and had taken Nellie’s teaching very much to heart. When she was satisfied that the time was right, she drew off the water and added malted barley, stirring vigorously. She had begun her first brew of ale since she left Marsh House and she hoped it would be ready in time for Christmas and the feast that she knew Betty was planning to give her family.
It was impossible to keep such a project secret. The smell of the malted barley alone was enough to have the Crooke men sniffing the air like hungry hounds. One by one they ventured into the washhouse, eager to find out what Effie was preparing that smelt so appetising. She had many hands willing to help her strain the liquid into a washtub, and they stood back watching with interest as she added sugar, yeast and dried hops. Everyone wanted a stir and things were getting a bit out of hand in the tiny outhouse with everyone talking at once. Effie was relieved when Fred opened the door and demanded to know what was going on. His craggy features broke into a delighted smile when
she told him her plan and he shooed his family out into the yard.
‘Is it too soon to have a taste, Effie?’ he asked eagerly.
‘Much too soon, Mr Crooke, but it will be ready in time for Christmas.’
He patted her on the shoulder. ‘We’ll have the best time ever.’ He shuffled out of the steam-filled building and Effie found herself alone for once. She smiled, shaking her head. She loved the noisy, boisterous family who had made them feel that they belonged, but recently she had become aware that the eldest son, Harry, was paying far more attention to her than he did to his sisters. The girls had commented on it too, and although Effie liked Harry well enough there was nothing about him that made her pulses race or caused her heart to miss a beat when he came through the door. In short, she knew that their time in Phoebe Street must come to an end soon. She did not want to cause upset amongst the family that she had come to love and think of as her own, but it was now imperative to find somewhere else to live. She made up her mind to go out next day and accept the first dwelling that was reasonably habitable and also affordable.
Large snowflakes tumbled like goosedown from a solid mat of grey clouds as Effie and
Tom trudged along Bow Common Lane. It was mid-afternoon but soon it would be dark and the snow was settling on the rooftops and pavements in a thick white blanket. The streets had never looked so clean, but Effie knew that would all change in minutes, and the snow would turn to blackened slush when the men poured out of the factories and the gas works. Smoke and steam belched out in equal amounts, curling up to be absorbed in the clouds and turned into icy flakes that were sent fluttering back to earth like scraps of freezing lace.
‘Let’s go home,’ Tom muttered through the folds of his muffler. ‘My boots leak and my feet are blooming freezing.’
Effie nodded her head. The air was so cold that it hurt to breathe and snowflakes clung to her eyelashes making it difficult to see. ‘I don’t think we can do any more today. The last place we saw was a midden. I wouldn’t put a pig in a place like that.’
Tom shot her a sideways glance. ‘It ain’t so bad living in Phoebe Street. At least we get fed properly and old Fred’s a decent enough chap. If I can put up with Harry ribbing me all the time, I don’t see why you can’t encourage him a bit. It’s obvious he’s sweet on you.’
‘I know, but I don’t feel the same way about
him. It’s going to upset Betty if she thinks I’ve been encouraging her son, especially when I haven’t done a thing to make him like me.’
‘You don’t have to, Effie. The blokes take one look at you and they’re smitten. I wish I had that effect on girls.’
‘You’re too young to think about things like that,’ Effie said, chuckling in spite of the bitter cold and the fact that she had lost all feeling in her fingers and toes. ‘Fred will come after you with a cudgel if you make eyes at young Agnes. I know you fancy her so don’t deny it.’
‘I like her a lot and she’s going to get me a job in the market garden when they start hiring again, only there’s nothing doing until they start planting in the spring.’
Effie stopped, holding her side as a painful stitch made her gasp with pain. ‘Wait a moment, Tom. I need to catch my breath.’
‘The snow is getting thicker by the minute,’ he said, drawing her into the comparative shelter of a doorway. ‘At least we haven’t got far to go now.’
‘I just need a moment,’ Effie said breathlessly.
‘I’m starving. I wonder what Betty’s got for our supper tonight.’ Tom leaned his shoulders against the door, but it opened suddenly pitching him backwards into a narrow hallway.
‘Are you all right, Tom?’ Effie peered into the darkness, but all she could see were Tom’s legs thrashing about as he scrambled to his feet.
‘Bloody hell. I wasn’t expecting that.’
‘The door wasn’t shut properly,’ Effie said, too shaken to upbraid him for swearing. ‘Are you hurt?’
‘Only me pride.’ Tom rubbed his backside with a rueful grin. ‘This place stinks.’
‘And we’re trespassing,’ Effie said, tugging at his arm. ‘Let’s go before someone catches us.’
He pulled away from her. ‘If they couldn’t be bothered to lock up, they can’t be too worried about their property. I’m going to have a nose around.’
‘No, Tom. You can’t,’ Effie protested, but too late. Tom had disappeared down the dark passage into the bowels of the house. She hesitated, wrinkling her nose. The smell was nauseating and being next door to the gas works did not improve things. The stench of coal gas together with other noxious odours was suffocating. When Tom ignored her cries, she ventured a little further into the house. She found him in the front room. ‘Tom, come away. This isn’t right.’
He was standing in the middle of the floor staring at the chaotic jumble of old furniture, empty bottles and tin cans, yellowed
newspapers and bundles of rags. Cold white light filtered in through the grimy windowpanes and cinders tumbled out of the grate, filling the hearth with ash. ‘It looks as though tramps have been living here,’ Tom said slowly. ‘I don’t think it can belong to anyone in particular or they wouldn’t have let it get into this state.’
Effie jumped as a piece of plaster fell from the ceiling, narrowly missing her head. ‘Someone owns it. Every square inch of London belongs to someone.’
‘I’m going to have a look round.’
She opened her mouth to protest but he had gone and the door swung drunkenly on a broken hinge. Effie hurried after him. She did not want to be left alone in such a place. It felt eerie, as though somebody had died in that room and might come back to haunt them at any moment. She felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end. ‘Tom, come back.’
She heard him clattering about in the back room which turned out to be a kitchen of sorts with a rusty old range and a door leading into a back yard that looked out over the snow-covered expanse of Bow Common. Memories of the fair came flooding back as Effie stood in the doorway. It had been summer then, only six months ago but it seemed like a lifetime. She felt a shaft of pain cut through her as she
recalled the first time she had seen Frank. He had looked so handsome and carefree with his tanned complexion and open countenance. It had been easy to believe him when he said he loved her, but she had to accept that it was all over now and fading into memory as if it had been a dream.
‘Look, Effie,’ Tom shouted, stamping about in the snow. ‘It’s got a pump and a privy. It only needs a bit of elbow grease and it would make a fine home. I think it could be ours if we find out who owns it and offer them a decent rent. They might pay us to live here and tidy it up. What d’you think?’
Dazedly, Effie shook her head. ‘You’re mad. It’s beyond repair. I expect the floors upstairs are rotten and the ceiling will fall in at any moment.’
Tom pushed past her, stamping the snow off his boots as he entered the kitchen. ‘I’m going upstairs. You stay down here and if I fall through the floor you can pick me up.’
‘No, don’t go up there. Someone might be asleep in one of the rooms. You could be attacked by the lunatic who lives here.’
‘Poppycock,’ Tom snorted. ‘I’m not afraid.’ He bounded out through the door and his footsteps reverberated throughout the house as he took the stairs two at a time.
Effie went to the foot of the stairs, waiting
anxiously. ‘Tom, can you hear me? Is everything all right?’
He leaned over the banisters. ‘Come up and see. There’s no one here, and judging by the cobwebs it’s been empty for years. Come on up, Effie. It’s fine.’
Against her better judgement, Effie allowed curiosity to win and she climbed the stairs, pulling a face as her boots crunched the carapaces of dead cockroaches and spiders’ webs caught in her hair.
‘Come into the back bedroom,’ Tom called excitedly. ‘It looks out over the common. It’s like being back in the country.’
She crossed the narrow landing and found herself in a small room festooned with cobwebs and smelling strongly of mice. Tom had his back to her as he stared out of the window. He turned his head at the sound of her footsteps and even in the dim light she could see that he was smiling. ‘Take a look for yourself, Effie. This is the place for us. The market garden is on the other side of the common and it would be just the thing if I could get a job there. You’d be able to stay at home and look after Georgie and we’ll be a proper family again. Never mind Toby Tapper. We don’t need him. I can take care of you both.’