Authors: Dilly Court
Champion uttered a soft whinny of recognition as she walked towards him and Effie stopped to stroke his muzzle, whispering words of comfort to the old horse, and assuring him that he would soon be found. She realised that he did not understand a word of what she said, but she knew that Owen had loved the animal and she could only hope that Salter would treat him well. She had toyed with the idea of stealing the faithful old horse. It would have been so much easier to ride away from here, but she had no doubt that Jacob would inform the police and horse stealing was a serious offence, although no longer punishable by hanging as it had been in Jacob’s younger days. Reluctantly, she said goodbye to Champion, and turned south, beginning her long walk back towards London.
It had not been an easy decision, but in the small hours of the morning when sleep evaded her Effie had made plans for their future. She was not a country girl and she knew nothing
of farm work other than the fact that it was hard and paid very little. She had been born in Hoxton, so her mother had said, although the family had left there when Tom Sadler senior had lost his job as a journeyman carpenter. He had taken his family to Bow, where he had found work in the glue factory, and they had lived in one basement room sharing it with rodents, fleas and cockroaches despite all her mother’s efforts to make the place clean and safe. As Effie trudged onwards with Georgie hitched over her shoulder, still half asleep, she remembered the flight from Hoxton with her family, which had then included her younger brother Stanley and her sister, Emily, who had both died in a measles epidemic which Effie had miraculously survived. It was then, when she was nine years old, that Tom had been born, almost costing their mother’s life. Their father had succumbed to cholera shortly afterwards along with thousands of other city dwellers. With no means of support, there had been no alternative for the small family other than the dreaded workhouse. Effie shuddered as she remembered the day when their mother had given up all hope as they passed through the grim iron gates. She had not lasted the year out, and Effie had held three-year-old Tom’s hand while they watched their mother slip
away into the other world. Effie had prayed that Ma would be reunited with their pa, and despite her frantic pleas Tom had been taken from her and carried, sobbing his heart out, to the boys’ section of the workhouse. She had been just twelve years old and had spent the next three years picking oakum until her fingers bled. Then, one winter’s morning, she had snatched Tom from his bed and they had hidden beneath sacks in the night soil collector’s wagon and made their escape from the workhouse.
As the first pale green light split the dark sky in the east, Effie would have known where she was if only by the stench of rendering fat as she trudged past the soap works with Georgie riding piggyback. She crossed the river at Five Bells Bridge and made her way towards Bow High Street. She was now on familiar ground and she stopped first at a dairy and bought milk, filling the tin can she had brought with her, and then called in at a bakery where she purchased a loaf of bread fresh from the oven. Georgie was crying from hunger but Effie did not stop again until they reached the market gardens in Campbell Road, where she set him on a patch of ground behind a wooden tool shed. The sun was high in the sky now, promising another hot, dry day, and Effie was close to exhaustion, but
after making sure that Georgie had drunk some milk and was happily chewing a chunk of bread and cheese, she allowed herself to relax a little and eat. Her plan was simple. She would go to the Prince of Wales tavern and see Ben Hawkins. If anyone knew where she might find Toby, he would, and if she found Toby she hoped that Tom would be with him. She had thought no further than that, but she had to start somewhere.
Footsore and weary, with Georgie’s arms tight around her neck as she carried him on her back, it was late afternoon when Effie finally arrived at the pub. She set Georgie down on the ground but as she caught sight of her reflection in one of the windows she saw a woman whom she barely recognised. Her corn-coloured hair was a tangled mess and her face was streaked with dirt and sweat. Her dress was frayed at the hem and spattered with mud, and the soles of her boots had parted with the uppers, exposing her bare toes. In fact, she looked like a beggar, and she knew she could not go in through the front entrance even though she had money in her purse. She went round to the back, and finding the scullery door had been left open to let in the air she went inside.
A startled girl, who could not have been more than ten or twelve, was standing on a
box at the stone sink, up to her armpits in greasy water as she washed a pile of dirty dishes.
‘What d’you want?’ the girl asked, frowning. ‘It says no hawkers or pedlars on the doorpost. You won’t get nothing here.’
‘I want to see Mr Hawkins,’ Effie said, ignoring the girl’s truculent attitude.
‘The missis is in the kitchen, but don’t say I didn’t warn you.’ The girl went back to scouring a plate with a bunch of twigs.
Holding Georgie’s hand, Effie went into the kitchen. It had not changed in the years since she had left the pub. The ceiling was tar-coloured, an accumulation over many years of smoke and grease. The range was belching out heat and steam from the water boilers on either side, and the aroma of roasting meat mingled with the fragrance of hot bread and frying onions. Her stomach rumbled and she felt weak at the knees. Maggie Hawkins was standing in the doorway as if about to leave, but she stopped when she saw Effie and her thin features pinched into a scowl.
‘Can’t you read the sign on the door? We don’t want your sort in here.’
‘Mrs Hawkins, it’s me, Effie Grey. I’m not staying: I’ve just come for some information.’
Maggie squinted short-sightedly at Effie. ‘Oh, it’s you. Turning up again like a bad
penny. Well, my girl, you can just turn round again and leave. My Ben doesn’t want to see you and neither do I.’
Effie stood her ground. ‘I’m looking for my brother. I think he might have passed this way. I was hoping that Ben, I mean Mr Hawkins, might have spoken to him, or that he would know where I might find Toby Tapper.’
‘Nice company you keep, Effie. I always said you was a bad lot. Now go away and leave us alone. Mr Hawkins don’t know anything about your brother or Tapper, so you’d best leave before I set the dogs on you.’ She stalked out of the room with a swish of starched petticoats.
Effie turned to Betty, who had been standing silently stirring a pan of soup on the range. ‘Is Ben about?’ Effie asked urgently. ‘I only need to have a few words with him.’
‘He’s gone to the brewery, I think. I daresay he’ll be back in an hour or so if you can wait outside.’
‘Oh!’ Effie was suddenly overcome by a wave of exhaustion. She had expected Ben to be here, although she realised now that it had been a forlorn hope. She had received the sort of welcome she might expect from Maggie, who had made not the slightest effort to disguise her contempt.
‘You look done in,’ Betty said sympathetically. ‘And the little mite is probably hungry.
My boys was always on the lookout for food.’ She bent down, holding her arms out to Georgie. ‘Come to Betty, love. She’ll see if she can find you something tasty to eat.’ Georgie smiled happily as she scooped him up in her plump arms. He tugged playfully at her mobcap so that it tilted over one eye, which seemed to amuse him hugely and made him chuckle.
Effie swayed on her feet as her legs threatened to give way beneath her.
‘Sit down afore you fall down,’ Betty advised, setting Georgie down on the kitchen table amongst the various pots, pans and vegetables. ‘I’m sure that her majesty can afford to give you a bite to eat, just so long as she don’t find out. She’s a mean cow when all is said and done. She’s got eyes like a hawk, counting everything down to the last potato peeling, but then you’d know that, wouldn’t you, ducks? I mean having worked here yourself. I remember you well, although I only started just as you was about to marry that handsome young boatman.’
‘It seems like a long time ago now,’ Effie said dazedly as the room continued to swim around her in mystifying circles. ‘Could I have some water, please?’
With a stern warning to Georgie not to wriggle about or he would fall off the table and
hurt himself, Betty went into the scullery, returning moments later with a cup brimming with water. ‘Sip this and I’ll make us a pot of tea.’ She hurried back to the table and proceeded to cut a generous slice from a loaf, buttering it liberally and handing it to Georgie who immediately sank his teeth into the bread and began stuffing large chunks into his mouth.
‘Easy does it, young ’un,’ Betty said, smiling. ‘You’ll choke if you ain’t careful.’ She set him down on a chair, ruffling his curls. ‘You sit there, love. There’s plenty more where that come from, and if you eat all your bread and butter Betty will give you some cake.’
Effie sipped the water and gradually the kitchen stopped spinning around her in a crazy kaleidoscope of colour. ‘Thank you, Betty, but we mustn’t stay or you’ll get into trouble with Mrs Hawkins.’
Betty paused as she was about to pour boiling water into the teapot, and she grinned. ‘She’ll have gone for a lie down. Her ladyship always has a nap in the afternoons, so we won’t see hide nor hair of her until she rings for her tea. It’s like working for a blooming duchess.’ She poured water onto the tea leaves and set the pot to brew. ‘Now then, ducks. If you feels up to it, tell me how you come to be in this state. You was living on board the
Margaret
the last time I saw you.’
‘It’s a long story,’ Effie murmured, as another wave of dizziness threatened to overcome her. ‘Do you think I might have a slice of that bread?’
‘I can do better than that.’ Betty took the lid off a saucepan and ladled stew into a bowl which she put on the table in front of Effie, followed by a slice of bread generously buttered. ‘There you are, get your chops round that and you can tell me everything when you’ve eaten. My rabbit stew is the talk of Bow and you’ll not get a finer meal even up West.’
When she had eaten her fill, Effie faced a barrage of questions from Betty which she answered without holding anything back. Betty listened with her eyes widening and her mouth open. ‘Well, I never did,’ she exclaimed when Effie had finished. ‘What a tale, to be sure. And I can tell you now that your brother did come here looking for that rascal, Toby Tapper. Now there’s a charmer if ever I saw one.’
Feeling much stronger now, Effie reached out to clasp Betty’s hand. ‘Did Tom find Toby, and if he did, where did they go from here?’
Betty angled her head, frowning. ‘Young Tom went off looking for Toby, as I recall. Whether he found him or not I couldn’t say.’
Effie rose to her feet. ‘Well at least I know
that Tom came this way, and it’s a start. We have to go now, but I can’t thank you enough for the food, Betty.’
‘You’re welcome, ducks. Her ladyship can afford to be generous although she wouldn’t give you a sniff of a dishrag without charging for it. I don’t say nothing against Ben, he’s a good man to work for, but she’s a pain in the arse, if you’ll excuse the expression.’
‘I know what you mean,’ Effie said with feeling. ‘I worked here for four years before I met Owen, and I could never please her, but Ben was kind to me and I’ll always be grateful to him for taking me and Tom in.’ She moved round the table to pick up Georgie, holding him at arm’s length and chuckling. ‘Look at the state of you, young man. There’s more chocolate cake on your face than in your tummy.’
Betty looked round as the young scullery maid sidled into the kitchen, wiping her red and wrinkled hands on her none-too-clean apron. ‘There you are, Minnie. I thought you’d gone down the plughole to the sea you’ve taken so long to wash them dishes.’
Betty’s tone was jocular but the girl’s eyes filled with tears. ‘I done me best, cook.’
Effie felt instantly sorry for her and she gave the girl an encouraging smile. ‘I used to do your job, Minnie. It’s hard work and I’m sure you’ve done your best.’
‘Me hands is red raw,’ Minnie complained. ‘Can I have me dinner now, cook?’
Betty filled another bowl with stew, placing it on the table. ‘I reckon you got worms, my girl. I never knowed a child to eat so hearty and yet always be wanting more food.’
Minnie let out a howl. ‘I ain’t got worms.’
‘She’s a growing girl,’ Effie said hastily. ‘My brother, Tom, is just the same; always hungry.’
‘I seen him,’ Minnie said through a mouthful of stew. ‘I seen your brother. He come here looking for that gypsy with the gold earrings and the bright blue eyes.’
‘Heavens above,’ Betty exclaimed, laughing. ‘Don’t say you’ve fallen for Toby Tapper at your age, girl.’
Minnie swallowed and sniffed. ‘I dunno what you mean, cook. All I knows is that Tom was asking about the horse dealer and one of the blokes in the bar told him that there’s a fair come to Bow Common. That’s where Tom went. I’d swear to it.’
Effie set Georgie down on the ground and gave Minnie a hug. ‘That’s the best news I’ve had. Thanks, Minnie. You’re a brick.’
Minnie’s pinched little face was suffused with a pink glow at this unexpected praise. ‘You’re welcome, I’m sure.’
‘Don’t let a few kind words go to your head,’
Betty said severely. ‘When you’ve finished your dinner you’ve got to mop the floor.’
Effie took Georgie by the hand. ‘We must go now, Betty.’
‘I hope you find your brother, ducks.’ Betty picked up a cloth and bent down to wipe the smears of chocolate off Georgie’s face. ‘You be a good boy for your ma, young Georgie, and you can come and see me any time. There’ll always be a slice of cake for you in Betty’s kitchen.’
‘Tell Tom I said hello,’ Minnie murmured shyly. ‘He was nice to me and I like him.’
‘I’ll be sure to pass the message on,’ Effie assured her as she led Georgie out through the scullery, stopping to allow him to wave to his new friend before stepping out into the blazing afternoon heat.
It was not difficult to find the fairground. The sound of hurdy-gurdy music floated in the hot air, summoning the townsfolk to the fair like a Lorelei. Long before they reached the spot, Effie could hear the shouts of the stallholders attempting to entice the wary public to sample their wares or to test their skills, and the excited cries of both children and adults. She could smell horseflesh and hay, hog roast and woodsmoke. Even if she had not guessed where the fairground lay, Effie
could have found it by following the steady stream of people who were advancing on this island of pleasure in the centre of a grim and unforgiving city.