A Mother's Wish (42 page)

Sniggers from a group of slatternly women who lived across the street in Prospect Place brought Effie back to her senses. ‘Stuck up cow,’ one of them jeered. ‘Thinks she’s better than the rest of us, but she ain’t.’

‘You won’t look so neat and tidy after a few days in the Bridewell.’

‘Try living twelve to a room and see how you like it.’

Holding her head high, Effie retreated into her house, closing the door behind her. The taunts of her neighbours were upsetting but as nothing compared to the loss of the business she had built up from such small beginnings. The money she had saved was to have paid for Toby’s defence, but the younger of the two bailiffs had warned her that the fine would be at least two guineas, and that was almost exactly the amount she had tucked away beneath the floorboards. The rent was due at the end of the week and they would only have Tom’s meagre wage to live on. The person who had reported her to the law had done their worst, and yet again she was facing homelessness and ruin.

Once inside the door she felt as though the walls were closing in on her. She had the stark choice of sitting and doing nothing while she awaited Seymour’s return, or putting on her bonnet and going to the tavern to seek comfort and advice from Betty. She made herself ready, but a glimpse through the front window confirmed her worst fears. The women were still crowded round their doorways chattering like magpies and casting eager glances across
the street as if waiting for another chance to humiliate her. Effie could think of no good reason for their overt animosity; she had kept herself to herself and never exchanged so much as a cross word with any of them. She closed her ears to their cruel jibes as she left the house and made her way down the street. They seemed to think that she was different in some way from them, but they are wrong, she thought sadly; we are all sisters beneath the skin.

Betty was a good listener when she managed to hold her tongue for more than two minutes at a stretch. She was so infuriated by what she heard that she kept interrupting Effie, voicing her opinion as to the characters of the Salters and the punishments they deserved. Ben came into the kitchen demanding to know what was going on, and when he learned what had happened to Effie he was just as outraged as Betty. He offered to accompany Effie to court next day to act as a character witness, and he threatened to bar the Salters from his pub. Betty shook her head and told him it would serve their purpose best to leave them be. Should Toby’s case come up for appeal Salter would be a key witness, and they didn’t want him to scarper off and disappear.

Effie left her friends discussing what they
would like to do to the Salters and Frank was included in their desire for retribution. Betty had managed to elicit the full details of his appalling behaviour from Effie and she was both horrified and furious. She had lost no time in passing the information on to Ben, and that was when Effie decided that she had had enough. Using the excuse of collecting Georgie from Phoebe Street, she escaped from the fraught atmosphere of the pub kitchen only to bump into Sal Salter on the canal bank outside.

‘Well, well. They ain’t clapped you in irons yet?’ Sal sneered.

Effie held on to her temper with the greatest difficulty. ‘So it was you who reported me to the authorities.’

‘Well, it was my man, but he done it on my say-so. It’s a warning, love. Keep your pretty little nose out of our business. You lost us a fortune and we Salters don’t forget a wrong or forgive.’

‘If you’re talking about the
Margaret
she was not yours to lose. Georgie should have inherited his grandpa’s business, but it’s gone now and there’s nothing that can be done about it.’ Effie made as if to walk away but Sal caught her by the wrist.

‘You ain’t getting off that easy, missis. I’m going to make you sorry you was ever born.
You won’t be so cocksure when you’re homeless and living on the streets.’

Effie shook off Sal’s restraining hand. ‘Leave me alone, Sal Salter. Go and find some other innocent family to prey on.’

Sal’s jaw dropped and for once she was speechless. Effie walked off, taking a small amount of satisfaction from having the last word.

Georgie was too young to understand, but Tom was devastated by Effie’s news. It was all that Effie could do to dissuade him from going out to find Salter with the intention of beating him to a pulp. Her brother’s heart might be in the right place, but Effie knew that he stood no chance against a brute like Salter. Having calmed him down, she assured him that the fine would be automatic and minimal.

‘But it ain’t fair,’ Tom protested. ‘You’ve worked hard and now you’re being punished for it.’

Effie eyed him anxiously. He was seething with rage and the last thing she wanted was for him to roam the streets looking for trouble. ‘I know it’s unfair,’ she said softly. ‘Life’s like that sometimes but we’ve just got to make the best of things.’ She could see by his set expression that he was not listening. She tried again.
‘Why don’t you go round to Phoebe Street and call for Agnes? Go for a stroll along the canal bank and talk things over with her; she’s a sensible girl and I’m sure she’s a good listener, just like her ma.’

‘What if Salter comes round trying to bully you while I’m out?’ Tom said, fisting his hands. ‘I’d like to see him try anything when I’m here to protect you.’

‘He won’t,’ Effie said confidently. ‘He’s done his worst for now and he’s not entirely stupid. He won’t risk getting into trouble with the law. He’d rather creep about behind our backs, telling tales and taking away our living.’

‘Just let me get me hands on the bugger.’

Effie glanced at Georgie who was listening intently. She could almost see the swear word forming on his lips. ‘Don’t worry about me, Tom,’ she said, propelling him out of the room. ‘Mr Westlake will be back soon, and I pray to God that he’ll bring news of Toby. We’ll get through this. We always have in the past and we will in the future, but only if we stick together.’

Tom patted her on the shoulder. ‘I’ll never leave you, Effie. You don’t have to worry about a thing when I’m around.’

She kissed him on the cheek, realising with some surprise that she had to reach up in order to do so. Tom had shot up during the
last year and he was rapidly growing to manhood. ‘You’re the best, Tom,’ she said, smiling up at him. ‘The best brother a girl could have.’

His cheeks flushed scarlet and he stared down at his boots. ‘Aw, Effie. Don’t talk soft.’ He gave her a sideways glance. ‘You’re not so bad yourself.’

‘You’ll have me in tears if you keep talking that way.’ She gave him a gentle shove towards the door. ‘Go and see Agnes. She’ll put a smile back on your face, and don’t worry about me.’

‘I won’t stay out late,’ he promised as he let himself out of the house, calling over his shoulder, ‘Don’t open the door to anyone but me or Mr Westlake.’

Effie waited all evening for Seymour’s return. She paced around the front parlour where the empty trestles and the smell of beer were the only evidence that remained of her attempts to support her family. The long summer evening slowly darkened into night and Tom returned home but there was still no sign of Seymour. Effie was sick with worry. Anything could have happened to him and not knowing was worse.

Next morning Tom went to work as usual and Effie made herself ready to attend the
magistrates’ court. She left Georgie with Mary Smith and Dotty, confident that he was in safe hands, and she set off alone for the county court in Bow High Street. The waiting area was crammed with people of all ages. A burly chimney sweep was hanging grimly on to a skinny little boy. The whites of the child’s eyes, and the pink of his tongue when he opened his mouth to howl, were the only features visible beneath a thick crust of soot that made him look as though he were made of liquorice.

‘What’s he done?’ demanded a plump, matronly woman.

‘Stole tuppence from me,’ the sweep said, giving the child’s arm a savage tweak. ‘Bleeding little animal he is. Ungrateful little beast who don’t deserve a good master like meself.’

Effie was about to protest when Ben strode into the room. He came to sit beside her, taking her hand in his. ‘I’m sorry I’m late, Effie. Only I was held up by a delivery from the brewery.’ He pulled a wry face. ‘That wasn’t the most tactful thing to say. I’m always putting my foot in it.’

Cheered by having someone she knew to support her, Effie squeezed his fingers. ‘You came, that’s the main thing.’ She winced as the sweep slapped the boy around the head. ‘Stop that, mister,’ she cried angrily. ‘He’s little more than a baby.’

‘Mind your own business, missis. This limb of Satan might look innocent but he’s more trouble than he’s worth. If they send him to jail it will be one less of his kind to end up in the gutter.’

‘You can’t do anything,’ Ben whispered. ‘You’ll only make it worse for the boy if you take the master on.’

Forgetting her own troubles, Effie wanted to snatch the little chap up in her arms and give him a cuddle. He was small and stunted and could have been any age from six to ten. He looked little older than Georgie but his wizened face was that of an old man and her heart went out to him. ‘It should be against the law,’ she said loudly. ‘Sending little boys up chimneys shouldn’t be allowed.’

The boy gazed at Effie with eyes magnified by tears. He seemed more like a wild creature than a flesh and blood child.

‘Leave little chummy out of this, missis,’ the sweep said with a belligerent outthrust of his whiskery chin. ‘He gets three square meals a day and a bag of warm soot to sleep on at night. He ain’t no worse off than the little varmints living off dust heaps or scavenging down the sewers for silver spoons or similar.’

‘You should be ashamed of yourself,’ Effie cried passionately.

‘You heard the lady.’

The whole room had been listening to this fierce encounter and their heads turned as one to see who had spoken out in such stentorian tones.

Effie half rose from her seat at the sight of Seymour Westlake standing in the doorway. He was an imposing figure but when he removed his wide-brimmed felt hat a muffled gasp rippled round the room as the onlookers observed his scarred face. Seemingly oblivious to their curious stares, he crossed the floor to where Effie and Ben were sitting. One look from Seymour and the plump woman made room for him, moving up a seat and drawing her skirts away from him as if he had something contagious.

‘Thank you, ma’am,’ Seymour said with a courtly bow from the waist. He turned to the sweep. ‘As to you, sir, I imagine you are aware that sending small boys up chimneys has been illegal for many years. I would think very carefully about taking the child before the magistrate if I were you. It might be you who end up in prison for breaking the law, with child cruelty added on for good measure.’

Someone clapped and then everyone, with the exception of the sweep, joined in. The sweep master rose to his feet. ‘Damn you to hell, mister.’ He dragged the unfortunate boy from
the room, slamming the door as he left with such force that the glass panes rattled.

Effie was close to tears. ‘That poor child. I can’t bear to think what will happen to him now.’

‘Nothing changes,’ Seymour said, shaking his head. ‘I shut myself away from the world for twenty years, but I see little improvement now.’

‘It’s appalling. It makes my problems seem so small.’ Effie took a hanky from her purse and wiped her eyes. She would have followed the sweep master and snatched the child from him but for the fact that she was to be called next into the courtroom.

‘Ben told me what happened yesterday,’ Seymour said in answer to her unspoken question. ‘I arrived back at the tavern too late to call on you, but I am here now and both Ben and I will speak up for you.’

‘Aye, that we will.’ Ben squeezed her hand. ‘Chin up, Effie. We’ll have you home in no time at all.’

The two guinea fine was paid and Effie left the court relieved, but angry and with a lighter purse. The magistrate had scolded her for her ignorance of the law, telling her that it was no excuse, and in her heart she knew that he was right. Even so she could not help
feeling resentful. Circumstances had forced her into desperate measures and it was easy for a man with a comfortable home and money enough for his everyday needs to look down on the poor who were simply trying to survive. As she walked homewards between Ben and Seymour she could still hear the cries of ‘little chummy’ in her head. She could visualise his terrified face and the desperation in his eyes. She wished with all her heart that she could make a difference to a world where selfish people, too wrapped up in their own lives to care about others, allowed this sort of cruelty and injustice to continue.

‘I wasn’t allowed to see Toby.’

Seymour’s voice broke into her thoughts and she raised her head to give him a questioning look. ‘Is he in Millbank prison?’

‘I believe so, but the gatekeeper was not very helpful. He advised me to go through official channels, whatever those might be.’

‘It’s an excuse for the lawyers to make money out of us respectable citizens,’ Ben grumbled. ‘Like the beak charging Effie two guineas for an oversight on her part. The really evil characters like Salter get away with it and we’re the ones who have to pay.’

‘But did you see your friend, sir – I mean,
Seymour?’ Effie demanded breathlessly. Her companions were walking so fast that she had to run in order to keep up with them.

‘No, my dear. Unfortunately he had changed his place of business several times and I spent hours going from office to office in the City. Eventually I found someone in his club who knew where he’d gone, and I’m sorry to say he’s left the country, most probably taking anything that was left of my investments with him.’

‘You mean there’s no money for Toby’s appeal?’

‘Unless I can find Forster it seems a hopeless case.’

‘Did they say where he’d gone?’ Effie clung on to hope, but it was receding fast.

‘Argentina.’ Seymour drew his mouth down in a wry smile. ‘I was told he had gone there to mine for silver, no doubt using my money to fund his expedition.’

They had reached Albert Place and Effie fumbled in her purse for the key. ‘If you would both like to come inside I’ll make us some tea. I’m afraid I can’t offer you anything stronger.’ She put the key in the lock but it would not turn. She tried again.