A Mother's Wish (38 page)

‘What will you do?’ Tom asked, taking a chip and feeding it to Georgie. ‘We haven’t got anything that would tempt Salter to admit
that he was lying. Don’t forget that he tried to drag you into it. He’s a stink-pot, Effie.’

‘I don’t know what we’ve done to make him hate us,’ Effie said sadly. ‘But maybe Sal has a better side to her nature if only I could dig deep enough to find it.’

‘She can’t testify against her old man. I heard that somewhere and I think it’s true.’

‘Then I must find some other way, but I’m not giving up and I won’t rest until Toby is a free man.’ Effie pushed her plate away, her appetite gone. ‘You can finish this if you want. I’m going to get another brew going. Money talks and if all else fails I might be able to bribe Salter to tell the truth.’

Effie worked ceaselessly. She became a familiar sight pushing her barrow through the streets in all weathers. No matter how tired she was or if she was soaked to the skin by the pouring rain, she waited outside the factory gates for the flood of thirsty men eager to sup a pint or two of ale. She saved every penny she could spare after taking out their day to day living expenses, and at the end of the first month she redeemed the gold watch from the pawnbroker. She had intended to hide it in the house, but with the theft of her money still fresh in her mind, she decided it was too valuable an item to be kept at home. She took
it to the bank and deposited it to be kept in a strong box until Georgie was twenty-one and old enough to claim his inheritance. She stowed the remainder of her profits in a leather pouch and hid it beneath a loose floorboard in her bedroom.

In the evenings when Georgie was tucked up in bed and Tom had gone out walking with Agnes, Effie sat down to write long letters to Toby. She posted them in the hope of receiving a reply but none came. She had no way of knowing whether he received the correspondence, but she comforted herself with the hope that he had, and that her words made his life a little easier. She was painfully aware that loss of freedom to a man who valued it so highly must be a constant torture. He would be like a wild linnet trapped and kept in a cage through no fault of its own. She longed to see him and to feel his arms around her. There was so much left unsaid between them, and there was the unfinished business between father and son that must be rectified if either of them were to live in peace.

Effie had received only a basic education in the workhouse, but she poured her heart and soul into her writing. If her spelling was a little erratic and her grammar less than perfect, she made up for her lack of literary expertise with words that expressed her hopes,
her desires and above all the love for Toby that had grown slowly but surely like a tender green plant in springtime.

Even allowing for the gaping hole in her heart, Effie found some consolation in work and the friendship of the Crooke family. There was always a stream of visitors to the small house in Albert Place. Betty called in when she could snatch a free moment from working at the pub or caring for her large family, and she was always ready to lend a sympathetic ear. Ben visited as often as he dared without incurring the wrath of his wife, and he kept Effie supplied with oak barrels that had reached the end of their usefulness to the brewery. Whereas another publican might have resented Effie’s success in selling ale, Ben actively encouraged her, and he was always on hand to offer advice when needed.

The lure of a good pint of beer might have had something to do with Effie’s popularity with the male Crookes who came regularly to spend an evening by her fireside, and the girls were always eager to look after Georgie when she went out on her rounds. With her small son well cared for, Effie had taken to going out at midday as well as in the evenings, and that meant more beer had to be brewed. The front room was packed with barrels of beer in all stages of fermentation, and the copper
in the washhouse was constantly heating water in order to mash the malted barley. Effie had become adept at brewing and could have gone through the process in her sleep. She had grown accustomed to the smell of malt, yeast and hops that permeated the house and clung to her hair and clothes. She taught Tom the rudiments of the craft, but although he did his best to help her it was obvious to Effie that his real interests lay elsewhere. He toiled for long hours in the market garden and seemed to thrive on hard labour and the outdoor life. Effie was unsure whether his commitment to his job was due to the fact that he worked alongside Agnes each day, or whether the call of the land had stirred in his blood when he had helped Jeffries resurrect the vegetable garden during their time at Marsh House. Whatever the source of his newfound enthusiasm she was happy to see him growing into a strong and healthy young man with a purpose in life and the ambition to do well. He might be her brother, but she felt more like a mother to him, and it was a mother’s heart that swelled with love and pride to see the childish attachment between Tom and Agnes gradually maturing into something that might one day blossom into a lasting relationship. That, of course, was a long way off but Effie was determined to give her small family all
the love and security that had been denied to them in the past, and a future free from poverty and the terrifying shadow of the workhouse.

The harsh winter had melted into a capricious spring, and with the passing of May summer arrived at long last. Effie had finished her chores for the day. She had taken three shillings and fourpence that morning and another three and four during her evening round of the factories. There was enough money in the rusty toffee tin to pay the rent and keep them in food, candles and coal for the next week at least, and her savings in the leather pouch were growing by the day, although, being realistic, Effie knew that it would take many months and possibly years to save enough to pay the fees of a good solicitor. She had stowed the coins in her secret cache beneath the floorboards and she was enjoying a cup of tea while Georgie played outside in the yard. She was standing by the window, watching him as he chased the red rubber ball she had bought from a market stall, when Tom arrived home bursting with the news that the fair had arrived on Bow Common. His eyes shone with excitement as he described the stalls and attractions like the merry-go-round and the swingboats. Effie was amused by his enthusiasm but she was
suddenly nervous. She had put the past firmly behind her and that included Frank. The thought of seeing him again was unsettling.

Tom gobbled his supper, earning a stern rebuke from Effie. He washed the bread and cheese down with a draught of small beer, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand. ‘I’m going to call for Agnes and take her to the fair. Why don’t you come, Effie? You could do with a night out.’

‘And who will look after my boy?’ she demanded, reaching over to wipe dribbles of milk from Georgie’s chin. He could feed himself now, but the result was usually messy.

‘Bring him too,’ Tom said, rising from the table. ‘Don’t be a misery. You won’t help Toby by turning into a nun.’ He strolled over to the mantelshelf and studied his reflection in the fly-blown mirror.

Effie said nothing as she watched Tom preening himself like a young peacock, attempting to smooth his unruly hair into submission with his hands, and scowling at his reflection when the curls bounced back like watch springs. She was hurt by his thoughtless words but she knew that they were not meant unkindly. He abandoned his attempts to tame his locks and snatched up the jacket that he had thrown carelessly over the back of his chair. ‘I won’t be late back,’ he
said, heading for the door. ‘I can’t wait to see all those folks you told me about and I bet they’d like to see you again too. You will come, won’t you, Effie? Say you will.’

His persistence made her smile. ‘I’ll think about it. Go on and have a good time with Agnes.’

He grinned and blew her a kiss. ‘I’ll see you there. No excuses, Effie. Toby wouldn’t want to think of you pining away and working yourself to the bone.’

After he had gone and the dishes were washed and stacked away in the cupboard, Effie put Georgie to bed. She sat down at the table with a sheet of paper in front of her and a pen clasped between her fingers, but she could hear strains of music from the fairground filtering through the open window. She could smell hot toffee and potatoes roasted over glowing embers in a brazier. The scent of woodsmoke from camp fires was in the air, and Effie felt the indefinable hint of excitement that seemed to travel with the fair, luring punters in to spend their hard-earned money. The summer evening was balmy and Effie was restless. She could think of nothing to write, and although her feelings for Toby were unchanged she was suddenly desperate for company. She went upstairs to her bedroom where Georgie slept like a rosy-cheeked angel.
She covered him with a thin blanket and dropped a kiss on his tumbled curls. Closing the door softly behind her, she went downstairs and out into the street.

Her neighbour, a hard-working widow who took in washing in order to raise her six children, was standing on the doorstep chatting to a friend. She glanced at Effie with a nod and a smile. ‘Evening, Effie. Got any ale to spare?’

‘I hear as how you’re doing the brewery out of business,’ the other woman said with a toothless grin.

Effie shrugged her shoulders and smiled. ‘Not quite, but I might be able to spare a pint or two if your eldest could keep an eye on my boy for an hour, Mary.’

‘I’ll send her round right away. She’s just put the youngest to bed and I’m sure she’ll be happy to oblige.’

Effie went back into the house, filled a quart jug with ale and locked the front parlour door just in case any of the Smith brood decided to help themselves. Minutes later, when young Dotty Smith was settled in the kitchen with a slice of cake and a glass of lemonade, Effie put on her bonnet and shawl and set off for the fairground.

It was all so familiar and yet it seemed strange to be back amongst the people who
had taken her in just a year ago. In some ways it was as if she had never left, and yet she felt like a total stranger. There were some new faces behind the stalls and there were others that she recognised instantly: Myrtle with her tray of glistening toffee apples, Johann, the knife-thrower and husband of Margery the midget, and Dr Destiny who had already set up his stall and was proclaiming the benefits of his new miracle cure to a fascinated audience. Effie made her way to the fairings stall and was greeted by a loud bellow from Leah, who abandoned her post to give Effie a hug that very nearly winded her.

‘Where did you spring from, Effie?’ Leah boomed. ‘More to the point, why did you leave us in the first place?’ She turned round to beckon to Zilla, who was about to enter the tent marked in bold print
SEE
THE
BEARDED
LADY
,
one
penny
. ‘Come here, old girl. Look who it is.’

Zilla ambled over to them and kissed Effie on both cheeks. Her beard scratched Effie’s skin but she was too pleased to see her old friends to complain. ‘It’s good to see you both again.’

‘It was all that fellah’s fault, wasn’t it?’ Zilla said, shaking her fist in the general direction of the roundabout. ‘Frank junior has a lot to answer for.’

‘He’s a bloke,’ Leah said darkly. ‘They’re all the same.’ She peered at Effie as if attempting to read her thoughts. ‘You look pale and thin. You ain’t sick, are you?’

Effie shook her head. ‘I’m well, thank you, and very pleased to see you two.’

‘That don’t explain why you took off like a scared rabbit,’ Leah said.

‘I didn’t mean to leave in such a hurry. It was a misunderstanding between Frank and me.’

‘And the gypsy horse trader,’ Zilla said shrewdly. ‘I think he had a lot to do with it too.’

‘It’s a long story, but I’m doing well now. I brew beer and sell it from a barrow.’

Zilla’s eyes widened in surprise. ‘Well I never did.’

‘So where is Toby Tapper, then?’ Leah demanded. ‘And where’s our little angel? Where is Georgie?’

‘He’s asleep at home. I’ve rented a house just over there.’ Effie pointed in the vague direction of Albert Place. ‘As to Toby, well that again is a long story.’

Before either Leah or Zilla could pursue the matter further, Frank Tinsley senior strode over to them. ‘Ain’t you supposed to be in your tent, Zilla? You won’t collect no pennies standing out here gossiping.
Nor you, Leah. You’ve got a customer waiting to buy something from your stall.’ He turned to Effie and his forehead knotted into a frown. ‘So you’ve turned up again, have you? Keep away from my boy, that’s all I have to say to you, Effie Grey. He’s married now and got a nipper on the way. He don’t need you unsettling him.’

‘Hold on, Frank,’ Leah said gruffly. ‘That ain’t fair. Effie’s got as much right to visit the fair as anyone.’

‘I don’t say she ain’t, but I’ve said me piece and I meant it. Now get back to work or you’ll find your stall given over to someone who is willing to put in the time.’ With a last threatening glance at Effie, Frank senior strode off towards the show tent.

‘I’m sorry,’ Effie said, biting her lip. ‘I didn’t mean to get you into trouble.’

Zilla tugged nervously at her beard. ‘I’d best get back to work.’

‘Pay him no mind,’ Leah muttered. ‘He’s a bully and his son is no better. If I want to chat to Effie then I’m bloody well going to chat to Effie.’

‘I tell you what,’ Effie said hastily. ‘My house is number three Albert Place. If you can get away tomorrow morning we can have a cup of tea and a natter. I’ll tell you everything then.’

Zilla backed towards her tent, keeping a wary eye on Frank. ‘That will be lovely.’

‘We’ll see you tomorrow then.’ Leah turned to the customer who was examining a pair of china dogs. ‘Can I help you, ducks?’

Effie left them, her feelings bruised by Frank senior’s harsh words. She had no intention of seeking out his son, nor did she want to see him. Whatever feelings she might have harboured for him in the past were dead and gone and she decided to head for home. She caught sight of Tom and Agnes in one of the swingboats and it was obvious that they were having a marvellous time. That was just as it should be, she thought wistfully as she threaded her way through the eager crowds that had descended upon Bow Common. She dodged behind a booth in order to avoid Ethel and Elmo who were hurrying on their way to the show tent, the spangles on their costumes glinting in the light from the naphtha flares which were bursting into life as the sun went down. Effie would have liked to stop and talk to Ethel, but she did not want to cause any further trouble with the fairground boss. She hurried round the corner of the booth and walked slap into Frank junior. For a moment they stared at each other in total silence. Effie was the first to recover and she attempted to sidestep him. ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to . . .’