Custard Tarts and Broken Hearts (6 page)

‘Shhhh, quiet, you bugger!’ she hissed as old Thumper stirred at her presence and gave his stall a kick.

She tried the hayloft door and it opened with a creak, revealing the bales of hay stacked in a bay at the far end. Suddenly weariness washed over her. The day had been the most eventful of her short life. She had defied her father and been on strike. She had marched with thousands of people through the street, been caught up in a near riot, looked down the barrel of a gun, been virtually squashed to death by a docker and then kissed by a man, and now, at the end of this remarkable day, she was homeless, alone, and with no idea what the future would bring. The temptation to lie down and weep came with the fatigue, but Nellie refused.

No
, she thought,
I’ve had me cry. Crying’s not going to help me now.

So, instead, she burrowed into the sweet-smelling hay bales, creating a little nest for herself. Alice always teased Nellie that she could fall asleep standing up in a snowstorm. Now, within minutes, she had fallen into a deep, exhausted sleep.

6

Penny-farthing Promise

Nellie had been dreaming of Ted Bosher. He was galloping over Tower Bridge, on Thumper. Ted was shouting a warning that she couldn’t quite make out, then he halted in the middle of the bridge, where she stood, straddling the gap between the two halves. He leaned down to scoop her up, but the bascules started to rise and they both tumbled through the gap down to the murky Thames below. She was falling, falling, and could hear Thumper neighing as the inky water rushed up to engulf her, but, at the moment of impact, she woke. Sitting bolt upright, she found herself looking at a dark figure who was bending down, scrabbling at something in the hay. She screamed and then he screamed.

‘What are
you
doing here?’ His mouth was open in shock.

‘None of your business, Sam Gilbie. What are
you
doing here?’

‘I
work
here!’

‘Oh, my Gawd, is it morning already?’ Nellie jumped up, plucking at straw.

‘No, no, it’s not morning. It’s nine o’clock at night! I’ve just come to see to the horses. Your dad had to cope on his own today, with the rest of us all out.’

Nellie sat back down in relief, then she saw the object Sam had been searching for among the hay bales.

‘What’s that?’

‘If you tell me what you’re doing here, I’ll tell you what it is.’ He was shielding the object with his body, but she caught sight of a metal frame and a brass plate with the word
Ariel
stamped on it.

‘
I’m
here, because me dad chucked me out.’ For some reason, admitting this to Sam threatened a return of the tears she had tried so hard to keep at bay. She struggled to control her trembling lips.

‘Oh, Nellie, I’m sorry! I know he’s against the union, but I never thought he’d do something like this to his own daughter. What’ll you do?’

Nellie shrugged. ‘I’ll manage somehow.’ She didn’t want to talk about it with Sam. She didn’t want him to think badly of her father, which was puzzling to her, as she didn’t care a hoot what Lily or Ted thought of him. Why should Sam Gilbie’s opinion matter?

‘Anyway, I’ve done my bit. Now you tell me what that is.’ She craned her neck, trying to look at what was behind his back.

He stepped aside and pulled out from the straw an old penny-farthing bicycle.

She didn’t know what she’d expected, but this was the last thing she’d imagined he’d be hiding. ‘Oh, Sam, you don’t see many of them these days. Where on earth did you get it?’

Sam carefully brushed off the straw, revealing the large front wheel first, then pushed it out to the centre of the floor so she could see the whole frame and the smaller back wheel.

‘It was me dad’s,’ he said proudly. ‘He rode it all the way from Hull to London, long before I was born. If he hadn’t done it, I’d have been a northern lad instead of a Bermondsey boy!’

For the first time, Nellie noticed his smile. It gave his face a sweet expression she’d never noticed before. Not that she’d spent much time in his company. She had a few vague childhood memories of him. There had been some precious country outings, organized for children by the Bermondsey Settlement, where his parents had sometimes helped out. She remembered how the brake, decked with paper garlands and drawn by two massive dray horses, had trundled up to the settlement, where they were all ready in their Sunday best for a day out in Kent. It had been like a day in heaven, the first time she’d seen fields and, more mysterious still, cows! She remembered a dark-haired young Sam, sitting up at the front, eager to hold the horses’ reins. She remembered too his spirited mother and his father, who seemed much more fun than her own. Sam, at sixteen, had got his wish to become a horse driver himself. He was a favourite of her father’s, who thought him a decent hard-working boy. He often praised the way Sam had shouldered the burden of supporting his family, after his father had died. When she encountered him going in and out of Wicks’s yard, he would always have a ready smile and it felt natural to stop and chat. Only at Pearce Duff’s gates did she find herself being irritated by him. His face then was always either too hopeful or too disappointed, depending on whether it was before or after she’d refused his offer of a lift in the cart.

‘Dad made me promise to keep it.’ He turned his face away, looking down at the machine. ‘We lost the bike shed when we had to move out of Globe Buildings – it was a tied place, from Wright’s seed mill. I’ve been storing it here and doing it up in me spare time.’

‘I wonder why he made you promise to keep it?’

Sam sat down in the straw, laying the penny-farthing down between them. His voice took on a wistful tone as he remembered his father.

‘It was a lucky charm for him. He always said it changed his life. They didn’t have much up north, nearly ended up in the workhouse, but the bike got him down here and he finished up foreman at Wright’s Mill. It was a good job.’ Sam fell silent.

‘How long’s he been dead now, Sam?’ Nellie asked gently. She had guessed this was the reason for the family losing their tied accommodation.

‘Only last year. It was the job did it in the end. All those years in the seed mill – chaff and dust ruined his lungs. Still, he was just glad he’d made something of his life, and he thought this old thing would bring me luck.’

Sam spun the wheel between them and Nellie absently let her fingers trail over the spokes, filling the hay barn with a sad harp-like thrumming.

‘Can you ride it?’ she asked suddenly.

Sam smiled again. This time, there was more mischief in it than melancholy, and without a word he righted the penny-farthing and scooted it towards the open door.

Nellie followed, in time to see him hopping on to the back mounting bar. He hooked his leg over the saddle and was off, in a smooth roll, down to the end of the yard, where he executed a tight turn, wobbled, and, to Nellie’s delight, was back with her in two pedal strokes. He hopped off, looking very pleased with himself.

She was seized with an overwhelming urge to try it herself. ‘Can I have a go?’

Sam looked doubtful. ‘Oh, I dunno about that!’

Nellie, disappointed, wondered at the irony of Sam Gilbie saying no to her!

‘Come on, Sam, I need cheering up. I’ve just been chucked out of me home!’

Sam soon relented and helped her up. He kept a tight hold of the saddle as she mounted inelegantly and then wobbled her way down the yard. After a circuit with Sam trotting at her side she was getting more confident.

‘Let go, let go!’ she hissed, as quietly as she could. ‘I can do it on me own!’

Sam looked worried but Nellie showed no signs of getting down, so he released his hold on the saddle and soon she was pedalling for all she was worth, back towards the double doors.

‘Brake, Nellie, brake!’ Sam warned in a stage-whisper. If she hit the double doors, the whole of Vauban Street would be awake soon enough.

‘The brake! Where’s the bloody brake?’ she hissed back. She fumbled about, around her skirt, and just in time found the lever for the spoon brake. Coming to a juddering halt, she almost toppled over the handlebars but recovered, just as Sam leaped forward to grab the teetering machine.

‘Are you laughing at me?’

Sam shook his head, smiling. ‘There’s not many people would celebrate being homeless with a penny-farthing ride. But then again, there’s not many people like you, Nellie Clark.’

She got flustered by his admiration and jumped off the bike. ‘Let’s hope I’m as good at finding somewhere to live, eh?’

‘Well, you can’t sleep here. You’d best come home with me for tonight.’

Nellie shook her head vigorously. ‘No, no, no, I’m not going anywhere with you. I’m staying put.’

‘Well, it would only be for tonight. We haven’t got much room, and anyway…’ He hesitated. ‘Mum’s not so good at the moment. You can share with my sister, Matty. I’m not leaving you here on your own.’

Nellie could tell he wouldn’t budge and in the end she agreed. Sam put the penny-farthing back in its hiding place behind the straw bales and they set off towards Rotherhithe, where he lived. As they walked along the riverbank, he carried her bundle of clothing and proudly related more tales of his father’s bicycling exploits. He’d won many trophies for the Bermondsey Bicycle Club, but when shortness of breath put an end to his cycling days, he’d refused to get rid of the penny-farthing.

‘Mum used to go off alarmin’ at him ’cause we had to pay for the bike shed as well, but he wouldn’t part with it.
That’s my fortune
, he used to say,
and it’ll be Sam’s one day too
. Poor Dad, he never did earn a fortune, and if I stay a carman I don’t suppose I shall either.’

Nellie had begun to warm to the boy, who had for so long been an irritant, and in spite of her own sorry situation she wanted to encourage him. ‘Well, there’s more churches than Christ Church and there’s more than one sort of good fortune. He had a loving son, like you, one that’s kept his promise, and that’s something to be proud of, eh?’

Sam nodded silently, the dark river gliding on beside them as they made their way round the winding peninsula of Rotherhithe.

When they finally reached the little house in Beatson Street, Nellie could barely walk straight, she was so tired. Sam lived in a two-up, two-down between the river and Globe Dock, with his mother, Lizzie, his younger brother, Charlie, and his little sister, Matty. A lamp was burning in the window and the end-of-terrace door was opened so quickly, it was obvious someone had been looking out for him. A dark-haired boy, of about ten, ushered them in; Nellie was surprised he wasn’t already in bed.

‘Nellie, this is my brother, Charlie. The little boy smiled briefly at Nellie, accepting her unknown presence without question.

Turning worried, dark eyes to Sam, he whispered, ‘She’s been terrible bad today.’

Sam ruffled his dark, wavy hair and led the way into the little front room.

In spite of the warmth of the night, a fire was burning in the grate and a pale-faced woman was sitting next to it, wrapped in a shawl, with a blanket covering her legs. She looked up weakly and smiled at Sam. Then her face suddenly came to life with curiosity as she spotted Nellie following.

She attempted to rise a little, but the effort proved too much for her and she sank back.‘Sam, you should have told me you were bringing company. Introduce me to your friend.’

She smiled encouragingly, and Sam half pushed Nellie forward, quickly explaining the situation.

Just then a little girl, of about eight or nine, came in from the back kitchen and flung herself at Sam. He lifted her up, planting a kiss on her cheek, but when she spotted Nellie her pretty face scowled.

‘Who’s that?’ she said baldly.

‘Matty, remember your manners.’ Her mother’s weak voice still had enough steel in it to bring the little girl to book.

She blushed. ‘Sorry,’ she said, looking appealingly for rescue to Sam, who now put her down and placed a hand on top of her soft auburn curls. She was an exceptionally pretty child, with large dark eyes, filled with a restless curiosity.

‘Nellie, this is my little sister Mathilda, but we all call her Matty.’

‘Sorry, but there’s only enough dinner for Sam,’ Matty addressed Nellie, with a worried frown, ‘and I’ve been keeping it hot for him, ain’t I, Mum?’

The weary woman sitting by the fire nodded proudly.

Nellie felt her heart go out to the anxious child. She knew, only too well, the situation she was in. Crouching down to Matty’s level, she took her hand and apologized for spoiling all her well-laid plans.

‘I don’t want to be any trouble. Anyway,’ she lied, ‘don’t you worry about me, Matty, I’ve already had me dinner ages ago!’

If she was going to be sharing the child’s bed, Nellie thought it best to make friends. She was keen to avoid the sharp elbows and knees of a disgruntled eight-year-old digging into her all night. But as soon as the child realized her beloved brother would not be robbed of his tea, she smiled and trotted back to the scullery. Nellie felt awkward, standing there with her bundle at her feet. She wished Sam would see how exhausted she was and ask Matty to take her to the bedroom. But, instead, he followed Matty into the scullery, where Nellie heard him scrubbing his hands and talking to the two children. She heard much whispering, which she judged to be about the possibility of dividing Sam’s tea between two plates.

Mrs Gilbie beckoned Nellie to sit next to her. Nellie had kept a distance from the fire, but now she slipped off her jacket and went to the hard-backed chair next to Mrs Gilbie.

‘I’m very grateful, Mrs Gilbie. I won’t trouble you no more than tonight. I’ll find somewhere tomorrow.’

‘It’s no trouble, love, and you’re welcome to stay as long as you like. Don’t I remember you from the girls’ club, at the Settlement?’

Nellie nodded.

‘I thought I recognized that chestnut hair of yours. You’ve grown into a lovely young woman, Nellie.’ She smiled. ‘Always with the little ’uns, you was, always carrying a baby around, I remember now.’ And it was true, for Nellie’s mother had given birth to two babies between her and Alice. Nellie had loved both the frail little things, who had stayed for such a short while in the world.