The Doorstep Girls Read online

  ‘Has he!’ Ruby put on a knowing look. Grace blushed. ‘Silly!’ she said, and dug her elbow into Ruby’s ribs.

  ‘I’d best come with you, then,’ Ruby sighed. ‘You’re onny a bairn, you need somebody to look after you.’

  ‘I’m not a bairn,’ Grace objected. ‘Why does everybody keep saying I am? I’m ’same age as you. But yes, do come, Ruby,’ she agreed. ‘It should be fun!’

  Daniel joined them. ‘Good evening, ladies,’ he bantered. ‘Are you taking the air?’

  ‘We are.’ Ruby joined in the humour. ‘We’ve had a stroll in ’country and taken tea with my Lady Bountiful and are now wending our way home where we shall partake of supper!’

  He grinned. ‘Prepared by your cook, no doubt?’

  ‘Oh, yes.’ Ruby clasped her hands together. ‘We shall have a bowl of turtle soup, a little delicacy of fish—’

  ‘A morsel of boiled chicken followed by cold ham,’ Grace broke in and ran her tongue around her lips.

  ‘Oh, stop!’ Ruby bent over and clutched her hands to her middle. ‘What must it be like not to be allus hungry?’

  Daniel glanced at her and then at Grace. There was a question in his eyes. ‘Do you not get enough to eat?’

  ‘Does anybody?’ Ruby said dismally. ‘I know that Grace’s ma manages somehow to put food on ’table every day, but we don’t.’ Then she brightened. ‘But we had a meat pie last night and I’ve got enough money to buy food for tonight.’ She raised her eyebrows significantly at Grace. ‘With Freddie’s money and my wages, we can have a feast.’

  ‘Don’t forget ’rent,’ Grace urged.

  ‘I won’t,’ Ruby declared. ‘I never do. I’m too scared of us being turned out by ’landlord.’

  Ruby left them and walked on towards the Market Place to buy a meat pie and bread. She always bought ready-cooked food, having no means of cooking in their room. One thing she longed for was a room with a fire, not only for the heat which it threw out but for the possibility of hot food. She remembered clearly one winter’s night some years before, arriving home from work to find her mother had lit a fire in the corner of the room. She had smelt the burning wood as she ran up the stairs and saw her mother poking with a stick amongst damp wood and scraps of burning paper, which were singeing the floorboards.

  She had seen the despair and confusion on her mother’s face, and at the age of twelve had decided that she would take control of the household from then on.

  ‘Is Ruby very poor?’ Daniel asked as he and Grace walked home, cutting through the warren of streets which lay behind the dock in the centre of Hull. ‘Doesn’t her mother work?’

  ‘She can afford a room, but not with a hearth and her mother doesn’t have a job of work. She runs errands for people I think, and earns a copper or two that way.’ She didn’t add, for she was very loyal to Ruby and her mother, that Bessie Robson spent anything she earned on laudanum.

  ‘I’ve been at your mill today,’ Daniel said. ‘My boss sent me to repair some of ’equipment.’ He looked pleased with himself. ‘He said it was a job I was well capable of and he didn’t need to send one of ’time-served lads.’

  ‘Oh, I wish I’d seen you,’ Grace enthused. ‘Though we’re not supposed to talk when we’re working. But it’s such a long day that sometimes we do, when nobody’s looking,’ she confessed.

  He nodded. ‘I talked to a little Irish girl, she’d started work this week.’ He frowned. ‘She looked too young to work, but she said she was ten. She lives in the Groves with her father and grandmother. Her mother’s dead. Died of cholera, she said.’

  ‘Poor little bairn,’ Grace murmured. ‘I’ve seen some of the Irish waiting for ’ferry to take them across ’river. Some of them haven’t any boots.’ She looked down at her own feet and thought how lucky she was, at least she was shod, even though her boots were worn.

  ‘I’m glad it’s Sunday tomorrow.’ She looked up at him. ‘Are we still going for a walk?’ She wanted to remind him in case he’d forgotten.

  ‘Of course. You still want to, don’t you?’ A small crease appeared above his nose. ‘It’ll be good to get away from Middle Court for an hour or two.’

  ‘I’ve asked Ruby to come too,’ Grace said. ‘Is that all right?’

  He grinned and teased, ‘Scared of coming on your own, are you?’

  ‘No!’ She blushed. ‘Course I’m not, but Ruby doesn’t get many treats.’

  ‘Is she a good friend?’

  ‘My best,’ she confided. ‘The only one.’

  ‘Oh!’ He seemed rather downcast. ‘Can I be one? A friend? I’d like to be.’

  She lowered her eyes. ‘Can a girl have a fellow as a best friend? I allus thought that –’

  ‘What? That there has to be kissing and cuddling and all that?’ There was laughter in his voice and she nodded, her head bent, and didn’t dare look at him. Her face was burning with embarrassment.

  He lowered his head towards her and grinned. ‘You can have that instead, if you’d rather!’

  ‘No, no, I didn’t mean –’ How he teased. She didn’t know how to answer him.

  They were approaching the alley which led down to Middle Court. ‘I think,’ he said softly, ‘I think it’s best if we’re just friends, don’t you? Then you don’t have to feel worried about owt – like taking my arm down ’alleyway when you’re scared!’

  She looked up. So he had known she was scared the other night! He smiled at her and she smiled back, feeling such relief. She knew girls of her age who had regular fellows, and they told such lurid tales of kissing and fondling in dark alleys, and of other things too, which made her heart beat faster and her face grow hot. She knew she wasn’t ready for any of that.

  ‘I’d like that,’ she said. ‘To be friends. To trust you, like I trust Ruby.’

  He left her at her door and went towards his own house. He felt good. He’d had a job of work on his own and the mill foreman had been pleased with it, and he was taking Grace for a walk tomorrow. He was glad that Ruby was coming too, for she was very vital and merry and Grace would be less shy if she was there.

  He felt a warm glow inside him. He had thought, when he saw Grace that first evening as she sat on her doorstep, that she was going to be special to him. But he felt that he must tread carefully to build up her trust and confidence. She seemed to be so innocent and vulnerable, which appealed to his nature, though he found it curious that she was so, considering her circumstances and her place of work. He had heard the coarseness of some of the women who worked in the mills and factories, and although not all could be classed the same, as many were decent hard-working women, there were others with mouths like sewers and morals likewise.

  He pushed open the door of his house and entered the room. It was dark and there was no welcoming fire, only half-burnt pieces of wood in the hearth. ‘Ma!’ He peered into the gloom and saw his mother sitting motionless in a chair. ‘What’s up? No fire?’

  ‘I can’t get it to light. There’s no draught.’

  ‘Chimney’ll want sweeping, I expect.’ He dropped his tool bag on the floor. ‘Where’s Da?’

  ‘Don’t know.’ She answered in a flat montone. ‘He’s been out all day.’

  ‘What’s for supper?’ He looked round for a sign of food prepared but there was none. ‘Shall I try to light ’fire?’

  ‘If you like.’ She didn’t move from her position in the chair, which disturbed him as usually she bustled around when he or his father returned from work, slicing bread or making tea. ‘Your father went to ’alehouse this morning. Tap and Barrel,’ she added as if the name was of significance. ‘He was still there at dinnertime.’

  ‘What you telling me, Ma?’ He looked up from the hearth where he was trying to blow some breath onto blackened smouldering sticks and saw her put her hand to her eyes.

  ‘I’m telling you that he’s taken a pocketful o’ money and is treating everybody in ’inn. He’s everybody’s friend and while he’s buying they’re all liste
ning to his tale of woe.’

  ‘How do you know?’ He straightened up. The wood wouldn’t burn, he’d have to start again with a fresh bundle. As he glanced at his mother’s grim expression, it struck him that he couldn’t ever remember seeing her smile, not really smile, as if she was happy inside.

  ‘Cos I went looking for him, that’s how I know.’ She shivered and pulled her shawl around her shoulders. ‘He called me a pettifogging shrew and ordered me home. Me!’ Her voice became shrill and indignant. ‘And I’m the one who’s had to give up everything cos of his accident!’

  ‘It’s not been easy for him either, Ma.’ Daniel tried to be conciliatory. ‘He’s allus been used to working.’

  ‘Aye, well he’s not working now. He’s throwing all our money at ’landlord’s apron.’

  He heard noises out in the court. Loud voices and somebody singing. He opened the door. His father was being held up by his armpits by two men who were almost as drunk as he was. His legs seemed to be made of rubber and he swayed downwards from the waist. He saw Daniel and exclaimed, ‘This is my boy,’ he slurred. ‘Chip off ’block, he is. Teks after me.’ He swung his head upwards to try to focus on his companions, who were staring mindlessly at Daniel. ‘Not after his ma.’

  He swung towards Daniel, and his two friends swung with him so that they made a tableau of figures leaning into each other. ‘Your ma’s going to have summat to say,’ he blathered. ‘She’ll be as surly as a bear.’ He waved his finger to his lips. ‘She’s a dowly woman, your ma, onny don’t tell her I said so. Now then.’ He hiccuped. ‘I won’t be long, I’ve just got to set my friends home.’

  The door opened behind Daniel and his mother stood there. Her mouth was in a tight line and her face was rigid. Daniel wondered how she could soften it to speak, and she didn’t, she spoke through her teeth, her lips barely moving. She stepped out of the doorway and pointed with a straight arm towards it. ‘Get inside,’ she hissed at her husband. ‘You’re drunk.’

  He narrowed his eyes and peered at her. ‘You’re right!’ he said, as if he was surprised at her discernment. ‘I am! And I’m going to be drunk tomorrow and ’day after, and ’day after that as well. I’ve got me some friends, haven’t I, lads?’ He looked blearily at his companions, who were swaying and lurching by his side. They both nodded and both closed their eyes as if they were about to drop off to sleep.

  Daniel stepped forward and urged the two men home. ‘Come on,’ he said. ‘Time you were off. Your supper’ll be waiting, I expect.’

  They both stared at him hopefully and his mother made derisive noises behind him. ‘If they’ve got homes to go to,’ she grunted. ‘They look like a couple o’ tramps to me.’ She drew herself up indignantly and glanced scathingly around at the other houses in the court. ‘What a showing up! In front of this lot as well!’

  ‘Come on, lads,’ Daniel urged them again. ‘I’ll see you to ’top of ’street.’

  They both nodded agreeably and Daniel thought that this had probably been the best day of their lives. As if to confirm his thoughts, one of the men slurred, ‘By, it’s been right grand, we’ve had ale and baccy and a slice o’ pie. Landlord sent us off when yon fellow ran out o’ money.’

  Daniel heard his mother’s hiss of breath and he pushed the men towards the alley. If his father had spent all of his money, then his mother was going to be very hard to live with. He sent the men on their way and when they reached the street they looked about them as if they didn’t know where they were. He hesitated for a moment, wondering if he should ask them in which direction they lived, but then decided against it. His priority now, he surmised, was saving his inebriated and spendthrift father from his mother’s wrath.

  CHAPTER SIX

  The two men in the open chaise glanced down at the throng of workers as they passed them. ‘Disreputable crowd, aren’t they?’ Edward Newmarch said to his brother. ‘They look as if they haven’t had a bath in weeks.’

  ‘They maybe can’t afford a bath,’ Martin admonished. ‘They won’t have facilities in their homes. They’d have to use the public baths.’

  ‘Even so.’ Edward looked down at two young girls walking together arm in arm. ‘Cleanliness next to godliness.’

  His brother gave a wry smile. ‘And what, may I ask, would you know about that?’

  ‘I go to church every Sunday!’ Edward protested. ‘I sit through the parson’s boring sermon, that’s penance without a doubt.’

  ‘But you don’t listen, you’re too occupied making sheep’s eyes at May Gregory!’

  ‘It’s my only chance of seeing her.’ Edward expertly manoeuvred the chaise between a brewer’s dray and a hawker’s cart. Itinerant piesellers were standing in the road shouting of the excellent qualities of their wares to the passing crowd, and one held up his tray towards the two men. The horse and chaise brushed past him and he jumped back, losing some of his pies which he hastily picked up from the road and replaced on the tray.

  ‘Her father keeps her under lock and key! I’m twenty-six, it’s high time I was settled with a comely little wife.’ And her father is rich and influential, he added beneath his breath.

  ‘Ask Mother to arrange a soireé and invite the Gregorys. She’d like that.’ Martin glanced over his shoulder at the pie man, who was shaking his fist at them. ‘She likes giving parties.’

  ‘That’s a good idea.’ Edward flicked the reins and urged the horse on in a trot as they left the busy town and its crowds, and drove west along the long road towards their home in the village of Anlaby. ‘And perhaps May’s cousin Georgiana could be persuaded to come too.’ He started to whistle artlessly, and Martin shrugged but said nothing.

  There were only eighteen months between the brothers, yet their personalities and characters were totally different. Martin, the elder, was thoughtful and steady in nature, sometimes roused to anger over injustice, and always willing to consider another’s point of view. His appearance, though considered handsome, was unpretentious: he was clean-shaven around a firm chin, and his thick dark hair was often tousled as he ran his fingers through it while he considered issues or dilemmas. He was not aware of, nor did he attach the same importance to style as Edward, who had his hair cut in the latest mode and his sideburns finely trimmed down to his jawline, where they met with his well-groomed beard. His opinion was that he was usually right on most matters.

  ‘Imagine Emerson resigning,’ Edward commented after a while. ‘Silly old fool!’

  ‘Not a fool at all,’ Martin retaliated. ‘He’s highly principled, and he’s anxious about the workers who are going to get their hours cut.’

  ‘They won’t thank him for it.’ Edward waved a thumb back in the direction they had come from. ‘Not that dissolute crowd. All they’ll be worried about is whether they’ve money for their ale and baccy.’

  Martin felt irritation growing inside him. ‘And whether they can put bread on the table or pay their rent.’

  Edward gave a sudden laugh. ‘Did you hear about Bradley? It was reported in the Packet that the last typhus outbreak started in one of his properties. He’s refused to do any improvements as he said that next door to it there’s a fish smokehouse, a piggery and a slaughterhouse! Quite right too, why should he spend good money on property like that?’

  Martin gave an exclamation. ‘And the place has an open sewer running alongside it! And Bradley didn’t happen to mention, I suppose, that he also owns the building which houses the slaughterhouse?’

  ‘Well, he’s a businessman, isn’t he?’

  ‘He makes his money out of poor people who pay him rent for living in these disease-ridden hovels without privy or drains!’

  ‘Did you notice those two girls that we passed back there?’ Edward changed the subject. His brother got on his high horse sometimes, he was as bad as Emerson with his high-flown ideals.

  Martin shook his head and Edward went on. ‘I just wondered – well, they probably work at the mill, but if the workers are as poor as you seem to th
ink they are, do you think – well, do you suppose that they make a living in any other way?’

  ‘Like what? There isn’t any work for women and children, they’re all scrambling for the same jobs. They either work on the fish docks or in the factories and mills.’ He knew very well what his brother was getting at, but he didn’t rise to the bait. It was indeed time that Edward was married with a wife to satisfy his needs.

  They pulled into the drive of their home, where they lived with their parents. Edward breathed in a deep silent breath. He had seen the two mill girls several times before, and each time he had experienced an odd hankering to get to know them. One was dark-haired and vivacious, with a carefree spirited laugh unlike that of any young lady whom he knew socially. The other was fair and almost ethereal, so slight that he imagined a breath of breeze would blow her away. He had even looked for them one evening, strolling in the darker side of the town, where he thought they might live.

  But he didn’t find them, and he had his pocketbook and a silk handkerchief filched from his pocket for his trouble. He did, however, come across a youth who chased after the thief who had stolen his belongings, but unfortunately didn’t catch him. The young man whispered on his return that if he was in the area for any particular purpose then he could probably assist him, being a resident of the district.

  Edward bluffed that he had lost his way and the youth had nodded agreeably and said he quite understood, but that if by chance he should venture that way again and fancied a little female company, then he knew someone who was very discreet and obliging.

  Edward had smiled condescendingly and lied that he was a happily married man, but had felt a stirring of desire as the youth had described the woman as being bonny and buxom. ‘A little older than yourself, sir, and she would expect nothing more than payment for her – er, services. No seeking out your place of business or home. A discreet arrangement only,’ he’d whispered, close to Edward’s ear. ‘One from which you would both benefit.’