The Lights of London (8 page)

Tibs laughed out loud. ‘That’s my girl, Kit!’

Shocked at herself for such an outburst, Kitty dropped her chin and looked away.

‘Come on, let’s hear more.’

Kitty shook her head. ‘I don’t have much to tell.’

‘Course you have. How did you wind up here?’

She swallowed hard. ‘My dad was sick. Real bad. And then he died. There were all these doctor’s bills. Then the farmer said I had to get out of the cottage. I had nowhere to live.’ She picked at the damp serge of her skirts. ‘So I took a position in this big house.’

‘Was it all right?’

‘At first it was. I worked hard and the mistress was quite good to me, but then …’

‘Then she found out the master was more interested in you being in his bed than in making it?’

Kitty frowned. ‘It was her son, not her husband. And he said he loved me. But how did you know?’

‘Just a guess.’

‘He was so cruel to me.’

‘What was you doing before you went into service?’

‘My mother died when I was a toddler and Dad said he couldn’t keep me and my brothers. I don’t think he knew how. So he sent us off to live with the charity sisters.’ She tugged nervously at a matted lock of her heavy dark-brown hair. ‘We’d only been in the home for a few months when my brothers both died of diphtheria. But it wasn’t my dad’s fault we had to go to that place. He had no choice.’

Tibs nodded, but said nothing.

‘Then, when I was eleven, old enough to start earning, he said I could come home. I was so pleased to get away. The nuns were kind enough, but it was terrible in there. I was always hungry and it was so cold.’

‘Not much better now, eh, girl?’

‘No, not much.’

‘Where was this big house then?’

‘Mereworth.’

‘Where?’

‘In Kent.’

‘Kent.’ Tibs wrinkled her nose. ‘South of the river.’

‘When I got thrown out of there, after I told the mistress her son loved me and they called me all these names, I just walked and walked until I came to that great big bridge over there. I walked right to it. Towards all the lights dancing on the water from the boats. They looked so pretty.’

‘That’s the trouble, girl, it’s the lights what attract us all. I couldn’t believe my eyes when I first saw them. I’ll never forget that sight. And the noise! It made market day in Romford look like the vicar’s tea party. So many people.’

‘I’ve stayed around the bridge for almost a week. I didn’t have anywhere else to go.’ She lifted her chin and looked earnestly at Tibs. ‘I tried to get some money somehow. Asked everyone if they had work for me. But no one did.’ She turned her head away. ‘I even tried begging.’

Tibs rubbed her shoulder. ‘Don’t upset yourself, we’ve all done it, love. When my mum went off like that, all I had was two farthings she’d left me folded up in a screw of old newspaper. I woke up in this filthy, horrible room in a court over in Whitechapel and she’d just vanished. I don’t know if I cried more because I was all alone or ’cos I had nothing but a sodding ha’penny to me name. I just hung about the market, hoping people would feel sorry for me. But it was useless. I made less than three ha’pence and had to spend the nights walking the streets all by myself.’

‘You were so young.’

Tibs nodded. ‘Yeah, a baby really. Then I met this old girl. A pea sheller she was, working for the costers. Well,
she smiled at me so kind, she even said she had a few coppers to spare to pay for a night’s lodging for me. Promised to take me to this place where I’d have a bed for the whole night, with clean sheets and a big feather bolster. I’ll never forget how grateful I was.’ Tibs shook her head at her own stupidity. ‘I’d fallen for the five-card trick, hadn’t I. The old bag had conned me.’

‘I don’t understand.’

‘Instead of taking me to a common lodging house,’ Tibs explained, ‘she took me to one of the case houses off the Haymarket. One of the ones that specialises, if you know what I mean, in youngsters.’

‘A case house?’

‘It’s London talk for a knocking shop. A whore house? A brothel?’

Kitty’s eyes widened. ‘But you were …’

‘Not quite seven years old. I didn’t understand all what was going on then, of course, I just knew it was wrong, her trying to get me clothes off in front of this old man.’

‘What did you do?’

‘I gave the old trollop such a kick she didn’t know what had hit her. Had it away on me toes and wound up under the railway arches with all the other urchins.’ Tibs flashed her pretty dimpled smile. ‘Like I say, not a lot better now, eh, Kit? Mind you, it was summer then. Warm. And a bloody sight drier than this poxy hole. And there was this boy who sold me a boiled trotter for a farthing.’

Kitty couldn’t even remember what it was like being warm and dry, let alone having food in her belly. Her stomach rumbled loudly, as she imagined the luxury of gnawing on the fatty pink meat of a pig’s foot.

‘Blimey, girl, you sound just like Bow Bells ringing out. When did you last have anything to eat?’

Kitty shrugged, sending a shower of dried mud from her bodice. ‘I can’t remember. A couple of days ago I think.’

Tibs leaned forward and looked at the children slowly chewing their way through the tiger nuts. ‘I should’ve given them to you.’

‘No, they needed them more than me.’ Kitty wiped a hand across her clammy brow; she felt feverish. ‘I’m all right.’

Tibs stood up. ‘But you’re not, are you? Just look at you.’ She put out her hand. ‘Now don’t argue, cocker, just get on your feet and let’s go. Don’t let the others hear, but I’ve got a few coppers left in my pocket. It’s a bit of a walk, but I know somewhere up the other end of Brick Lane where I can get us some cheap hot grub.’ She smiled sardonically. ‘You do know, don’t you, Kit, that one day people’ll be calling these the good old days.’

‘I knew we should have gone to the terrier fight,’ Buggy complained. ‘They reckon that little bitch of Limpy Mick’s can do twenty rats in as many seconds. We could have earned a nice few shillings on that little dog. Mind you, I ain’t seen much of Limpy lately. Not since the night he went arse over tit down Pickled Herring Stairs, and me and Big Harry Wright had to pull him out of the drink. Had the right hump, he did. Can’t stand getting wet, that one.’ Buggy droned on, unaware that the conversation had degenerated into a monologue. ‘Or we could’ve gone down the boxing booth. That Welsh feller, you know him, the one with the big head and the funny earholes, he’s fighting tonight. Got a good chance they reckon. Would’ve been a good night out and a bit of easy money.’

Buggy yawned and scratched thoughtfully at his belly. ‘Mind you, a game of gin rummy with me old
Aunt Mary’d have been more interesting than this lot. Don’t you reckon?’

Teezer answered with a loud, whistling snore.

‘Well, Teeze, you’ve finally proved you’ve got a bit of taste at last.’

As the snoring rose to a crescendo and rattled around the now almost empty auditorium, Jack Fisher dashed his empty rum bottle to the floor in despair and buried his face in his hands.

Kitty was so light-headed with hunger that when she sneezed she had to stop walking to recover her sense of balance.

‘It’s only a bit further, love. Come on, keep moving and it’ll warm you up.’

The streets gradually became busier and Tibs had to help Kitty thread her way through the late-night strollers and traffic, as the cries of hawkers and traders filled the air.

Kitty seemed to perk up a bit as she caught the sweet smell of an Indian toffee man’s stall and the mouth-watering aroma of hot chestnuts roasting over glowing coals.

‘Know what I could fancy, Kit?’ said Tibs, sniffing at a big copper pan of peanut brittle and wiping the back of her hand across her drooling lips. ‘A nice big slab of pickled belly pork. Handsome.’

Kitty’s mouth filled with juices. ‘That’d do me just fine,’ she said weakly.

‘Half a mo’, just listen to that. It’s the pie-man, ringing his bell.’

Kitty’s stomach gurgled longingly as a big, fat man, swathed in a long, starched white apron, appeared round the corner. On his head he balanced a tray draped with a blue-and-white checked cloth.

Tibs scampered over to him like an eager child. ‘I’ve only got a few coppers, mister,’ she said, counting out some change. ‘Can I just have three ha’p’orth’s for me and me mate?’

‘Go on with you,’ he barked, ringing his bell at her as if it were a weapon. ‘You don’t get round me with your pretty smiles. These pies are thruppence each and that’s final.’

Tibs sighed and rolled her eyes. ‘All right, but let’s have a look and see if they’re worth it first.’

As the man lowered the tray, Tibs’s hand shot out as quick as a flash and, before he realised what she was doing, she’d lifted one of the pies, had grabbed Kitty by the hand and was dragging her along through the crowd. ‘Hook it, Kit!’ she squealed, her face a picture of mischievous glee. ‘Move yourself!’

The pie-man was furious. A bit of a girl had duped him. Him, a pie-man for forty years, and he’d let a little scrap like her get the better of him.

Too bulky to give chase himself, ‘Stop thief!’ he hollered, but no one helped him. They were all too busy enjoying the spectacle of the pie-man turning blood red to the very tips of his ears, and with the added attraction, of course, of seeing someone getting something for nothing off the miserable old sod.

By the time they had rounded the corner of one of the turnings that led back towards the shadowy riverside streets, Tibs was shrieking with laughter and Kitty if she hadn’t been doubled over with a stitch, would have joined in.

Tibs leaned against the wall, waiting for Kitty to get her breath back, and snapped the pie in two. She handed half to Kitty. ‘Shall we hail a cab back to our rooms?’ she asked her in a mock-posh accent.

‘Why are you being so kind, Tibs?’ panted Kitty,
through a mouthful of deliciously melting pie-crust.

‘Me old gran, love her, always used to say, it don’t cost nothing to be kind. No, wait, I’ll tell you her exact words:
The smallest good deed is worth more than the grandest good intention.
I started embroidering it for her on a sampler at Sunday school.’ She paused, then added quietly, ‘But we left before I could finish it.’

‘I think what you’ve done for me is more than a small thing. I’d have been dead if it wasn’t for you.’

‘Don’t fret your gizzard, girl, anyone’d do the same.’ Tibs took another bite of pie, then changed the subject abruptly. ‘Talking about needlework,’ she said, as though they were sharing afternoon tea in the front parlour. ‘I’ve been thinking about getting myself one of them sewing machines. Good way to earn a shilling they say. And you can buy ’em bit by bit now, you know.’

‘What? In parts, you mean? You have to put it together?’

Tibs grinned happily, the effort of running and the heat of the meat pie was beginning to warm her through as if she’d been wrapped up in a big woollen coat. ‘You’re straight off the boat, you, ain’t you, Kit? No, I don’t mean in parts like that. I mean week by week. Hire purchase it’s called. Sadie Gardner told me all about it. She’s been able to get off the game for good now. Making a nice living without having to open her drawers for no one. Well, no one except her old man. It must be sodding heaven. Not giving her old man one.… Aw, you know what I mean!’ Tibs held out her hand and looked up at the dark night sky. ‘Sod it. It’s flaming gonna piss down again. Come on, we’ll find somewhere snug to tuck ourselves out of it.’

‘How do you stay so happy all the time?’ Kitty asked, hurrying along beside her, with her eyes squinting into the now pouring rain.

‘I’ve got this sort of trick, I suppose,’ said Tibs. ‘I just forget all the things what make me unhappy. All the things that hurt. It’s easy.’

Kitty didn’t believe it could really be that easy, but was too polite to say so. ‘I see,’ she said instead. ‘That’s a good trick, that is.’

‘It is. It’s …’ Tibs’s words trailed off and she dragged Kitty to a halt.

She pointed across the street to a pub sign that was creaking and swinging wildly in the growing downpour. Tibs didn’t seem to notice that, as far as signs went, it wasn’t very welcoming, showing as it did the snarling, slavering chops of a huge black hound.

‘That’s the grog-shop what Sal was going on about. And as I never had to spend no money on that pie, we can go over and treat ourselves, Kit. To a nice drop of rum. That’ll get you warmed up, that will. And I’ll bet they’ve got a big coal fire going and all. Then, I’ll tell you what, I’ll get us a few bob so we can have a proper bed for the night and I’ll make sure I’ve got enough left over to buy a pretty bit of ribbon for my little …’ She shut up as suddenly as if her lips had been spring-loaded.

She turned to Kitty and squeezed her arm. ‘You stick with Tibs Tyler, me darling,’ she said with a wink. ‘And you see, everything’ll be just sweet and dandy!’

As the sounds from the Dog grew louder, Kitty’s heart beat faster, and by the time she and Tibs were standing by the pub door she was in a state of total panic. She had been momentarily fooled by this kind, laughing girl and a mouthful of hot food actually to believe that something she was involved in might not be a disaster. How could she have been so stupid?

She took a long, deep breath, blinked slowly, then said it. ‘No, Tibs. Don’t.’ She tugged on her new friend’s sleeve. ‘Not this. Please. I couldn’t bear thinking that you’d do this just for me.’

‘I’ll be all right, daft,’ Tibs cut in, her voice a bit too chipper. ‘And it ain’t just for you, now is it? It’s for me too.’

‘But aren’t you scared?’

‘Me? What would I be scared of?’ She grinned. ‘Apart from the rent man. And as I ain’t got no home to go to I don’t even have to worry about him, now do I?’

Kitty avoided looking Tibs in the eye as she said quietly. ‘You know what I mean. With what you do, aren’t you scared of the Old Boy?’

Tibs rolled her eyes. ‘Is
that
what’s worrying you?’

Kitty nodded fearfully.

‘Well, there’s no need. That’s just country talk.’ She sounded matter-of-fact.

‘But …’

‘Look, Kit, there’s no danger doing business nowadays. Well, not unless you get caught by someone’s old
woman, there’s not.’ She attempted a smile.