Gaslight in Page Street (44 page)

Throughout the summer of 1913 the suffragette movement continued to attract attention with large marches and gatherings, and more of the women’s leaders were arrested and imprisoned. The newspapers carried stories of hunger strikes by the women prisoners, and the accounts of their force-feeding inflamed the passions of their supporters even more. One of their leaders who had suffered the torture, Emily Davison, threw herself in front of the King’s horse during the Derby and died a few days later in hospital. When her funeral took place the West End streets were lined with women followers, many of them factory girls from the backstreets of London.

Carrie wanted to join the mourners along the route but decided against it. She was ashamed at letting her allegiance falter and felt it would be hypocritical to attend. Her two ex-workmates from the leather factory went along, Jessica defying her future husband’s wishes and Freda holding her young baby in her arms. Mary Caldwell was given the honour of acting as representative for working-class women, and along with the other representatives, she walked beside the cortège, dressed in white and wearing a wide black sash.

Carrie had been growing steadily more depressed as the summer months wore on. Her dreams and hopes for the future seemed to be slowly dying as Tommy was compelled to spend more and more time caring for his ageing mother. There had been occasions when she and Tommy had gone back to his house and she had wanted him to make love to her but he had resisted her importunings. Carrie could see that he was not relaxed and was always waiting for his mother’s inevitable call, and felt a mixture of pity and anger towards him. It was wrong for a young man to be burdened so, she thought, but wished he could be more firm and less willing to hurry at his mother’s every whim. She was using him, denying him a life of his own, and Carrie found herself arguing constantly with Tommy about what it was doing to their relationship. He invariably became sullen with her and had told her on more than one occasion that his mother would always have to come first. It could go on like this for years, she thought, and things would not improve as long as he allowed himself to be manipulated by the old lady. She was taking advantage of her son’s gentle, caring nature and it angered Carrie and made her sad to see the change in him. It had been his happy-go-lucky nature and his considerate attitude towards her which had first endeared him to her. He was so different from Billy Sullivan, who had proved to be self-centred and interested in only one thing, apart from boxing. Tommy had made her feel good and made her laugh a lot, but now he had grown morose and hard to talk to.

It was very hard for the young man, she had to admit. He was being pulled in two different directions. Carrie had agonised about breaking off their relationship, wondering whether it would perhaps be better for everyone concerned if they parted. Even on the rare occasions when they went to bed, Tommy had been nervous and unable to satisfy her. It was as though he was terrified of making her pregnant, and when she became excited and aroused he did not respond in the way she wanted him to and she ended up feeling terribly alone.

Carrie was in low spirits as she walked to work on Monday morning, unable to quell the troubled thoughts tumbling around in her mind. As she neared the dining rooms she could see the horse carts parked outside, the animals munching from their nosebags while the carmen chatted together. A group of dockers were standing outside the shop and one grinned at her as she approached.

‘C’mon, Carrie, poor ole Fred’s run orf ’is feet in there,’ he joked.

Normally she would have been quick with an answer but on this particular morning Carrie ignored the comment and hurried inside. Fred Bradley bade her good morning as she slipped off her coat and put on her clean apron, and his eyes fixed on her enquiringly as she mumbled a reply. Instantly regretting her sullenness she gave him a wan smile and got on with her chores. There was little time to dwell on things as she served endless cups of tea and waited on tables, and for most of the morning Fred was hard put to it in the kitchen to keep up with the orders for bacon sandwiches and toasted teacakes. The regular carmen and dockers joked with Carrie as they came and went, and when Sharkey Morris came in he managed to bring a smile to her face with his account of Soapy Symonds’ latest exploit.

‘Yer’d never credit it, Carrie,’ he began. ‘Soapy took this load of ’ops ter the brewery last Friday an’ yer know what ’e’s like where there’s a chance of a drink. Anyway, Soapy gets ’is ticket fer a free pint an’ when ’e goes ter the tap room ’e finds out that the bloke what’s servin’ the beer is an ole mate of ’is. One pint leads ter anuvver an’ by the time ’e’s finished Soapy’s three-parts pissed. From what we can make out ’e must ’ave fell asleep on the way back an’ the ’orse decided it’d bring ’im ’ome. Trouble was, the nag took one o’ the little turnin’s too sharp an’ the back wheel caught one o’ them iron posts they ’ave on the street corners. Over the top Soapy goes an’ lands on ’is ’ead in the kerb. Out like a light ’e was. When this copper comes up, ’e calls a doctor from nearby who must ’ave bin pissed ’imself ’cos ’e said Soapy was dead. Anyway, they cart ’im orf ter the mortuary an’ leave ’im on the slab wiv a sheet over ’im while they send fer the pathological bloke. Meanwhile, Soapy comes to an’ sits up. ’E told us the first fing ’e remembered was ’earin’ an awful scream. It must ’ave bin the mortuary attendant. ’E’s pissed orf an’ nobody can find ’im. Poor sod must ’ave bin frightened out of ’is wits seein’ Soapy sit up under that sheet.’

Carrie could not help bursting out laughing at Sharkey’s tale, and for the rest of the day kept herself busy and tried to forget her depression.

It was as she was preparing to leave that Fred called her into the back room.

‘I ’ope yer don’t fink I’m pryin’, Carrie, but yer seemed a bit upset terday,’ he said, looking at her closely.

She shrugged her shoulders. She wanted to tell Fred about her emotional problems, he seemed genuinely concerned, but instead she smiled briefly and decided it was too personal. ‘It’s nuffink, Fred,’ she said quickly. ‘It’s jus’ bin one o’ them days.’

He nodded and looked down at his feet as he struggled for words. ‘If there’s anyfink I can do, anyfink at all,’ he continued with an earnest tone to his voice.

Carrie shook her head. ‘Franks fer yer concern, Fred, but it’s nuffink really,’ she replied.

‘Like I said, I don’t wanna pry,’ he went on, looking up at her, ‘but lately yer’ve not bin yerself an’ I thought there might be somefing wrong. If yer don’t wanna talk about it that’s all right, but if yer ever feel the need I’m always willin’ ter listen. Yer see, Carrie, I fink a lot of yer. I’m not very good wiv words, but what I’m trying’ ter say is, if yer ever need a friend, somebody ter confide in, I’m ’ere.’

Carrie saw the strange, distant look in his eyes and felt a sudden shock as she realised. Fred was in love with her! There was no mistaking his expression, nor the feeling in his measured words. She searched his face as if looking for a way out and saw that he was flushing with embarrassment as he averted his gaze.

‘I’ll remember that, Fred,’ she answered softly, giving him a warm smile.

‘I’ve never ’ad much ter do wiv young ladies, it’s always bin the business,’ he went on haltingly. ‘I s’pose I missed out when I was younger, but it don’t stop me ’avin’ feelin’s. I feel a lot fer yer, Carrie, an’ if yer ever get ter finkin’ likewise I’d be proud ter walk out wiv yer.’

‘Yer a nice man, Fred,’ she told him. ‘I won’t ferget what yer said. I like yer a lot, but love ain’t the same as likin’ somebody.’

‘I realise that,’ he said, looking down at his feet again. ‘P’raps yer could learn ter love me, given time? I won’t ’arp on it an’ I promise I won’t pester yer, but jus’ remember, love can grow on somebody. I’d marry yer termorrer if yer’d ’ave me, an’ yer’d never regret it. I’d look after yer an’ care fer yer.’

She reached out and touched his arm in a spontaneous gesture. ‘I know that, Fred. I’ll keep it in mind what yer said, I promise.’

He smiled awkwardly as she walked to the door. ‘Mind ’ow yer go ’ome,’ he called out.

Carrie left the café with her head spinning. Fred was older than her and set in his ways, and it must have taken a great deal of resolve to declare his love for her. She admired him for that. She knew she should feel flattered at the compliment, but it left her with a strange feeling in the pit of her stomach.

The long summer days encouraged everyone out, and the women of Page Street stood on their clean doorsteps after their chores were done and enjoyed a good chat together. All the business of the little turning was aired, and heads nodded eagerly as another choice piece of gossip spread from door to door.

‘Don’t say I told yer but Florrie Axford’s took a lodger in,’ Maisie Dougall said in little more than a whisper.

Aggie Temple’s eyes opened wide at the revelation. ‘Good Gawd! After all she said about ’avin’ anuvver man in the ’ouse,’ she gasped.

‘Well, I’m not sayin’ there’s anything in it, mind,’ Maisie replied quickly. ‘She’s got them two spare rooms upstairs, an’ what wiv the rent goin’ up as well ...’

‘What’s ’e like?’ Aggie asked.

‘’E’s a nice-lookin’ bloke. About twenty-four or twenty-five, I s’pose,’ Maisie went on. ‘’E’s got luvverly curly ’air an’ ’e’s very smart. I see ’im goin’ in yesterday. Smashin’ blue pin-stripe suit ’e ’ad on. I could see ’is shoes were polished an’ ’e ’ad a collar an’ tie on. Bit different from the blokes round ’ere.’

‘What about Florrie?’

‘What about ’er?’

‘Well, did she say anyfing ter yer?’ Aggie asked impatiently.

Maisie shook her head. ‘Yer know Flo, she don’t let ’er right ’and know what ’er left ’and’s doin’ ’alf the time. Mind yer, she was sayin’ somefing about lettin’ those upstairs rooms a few weeks ago. I assumed she was talkin’ about a married couple. I didn’t fink she’d take a young bloke in. It’s bound ter start ’em all gossipin’, yer know what they’re like round ’ere.’

‘Don’t I!’ Aggie replied, pressing her hand against her pinned-up hair. ‘Remember that time my ’Arold was seen ’oldin’ that woman round the waist in River Street? They all reckoned ’e was ’avin’ it orf wiv ’er. Poor cow fainted right under the streetlamp an’ my ’Arold was ’elpin’ ’er ’ome. ’E told me ’imself ’e took ’er in an’ made ’er a nice cup o’ tea. It jus’ shows yer what lies people fink up. Jus’ ’cos ’e was seen goin’ in ’er ’ouse. My ’Arold wouldn’t do anyfink like that, after all the years we’ve bin tergevver.’

Maisie nodded, although the story she had heard of Harold Temple’s adventure was a little different from Aggie’s version. ‘’Course ’e wouldn’t,’ she said. ‘Mind yer, it’s always a bit awkward when a woman on ’er own takes in a young man as a lodger, especially a nice-lookin’ bloke. Tongues will wag.’

‘Fing is, Florrie’s got a bit of a name wiv the men,’ Aggie remarked. ‘She’s bin married twice, an’ there was that bloke at the shop where she works.’

‘Oh, an’ what was that all about then?’ Maisie asked, her curiosity aroused.

‘Didn’t yer ’ear of it?’ Aggie said with surprise. ‘It was all round the street. Florrie was s’posed ter be ’avin’ it orf wiv Willie Lubeck, the bloke who ’ad the butcher’s before ole Greenbaum took it over. Yer remember ole Lubeck. ’E ’ad a cropped ’ead an’ a big moustache. Proper German ’e was.’

‘Greenbaum’s a German too, ain’t ’e?’ Maisie asked, folding her tubby arms over her clean apron.

‘Yeah, ’e’s a German Jew by all accounts,’ Aggie informed her. ‘I like ’is faggots an’ pease-pudden better than when the ovver bloke ’ad the shop. Mind yer, ole Lubeck used ter sell some nice ’alf sheep’s ’eads. We often used ter ’ave sheep’s ’eads on Saturday nights fer our tea.’

Maisie nodded. ‘I like them skate’s eyeballs. They go down well wiv a dob o’ marge. Mind yer, yer gotta be careful yer don’t over boil ’em or they go all gristly.’

Maudie Mycroft was walking along the street. When she reached her two neighbours she put down her shopping-bag and pressed a hand against her side. ‘Me kidney’s bin playin’ me up again,’ she announced, feeling in need of a little sympathy. ‘Always seems ter be worse in the summer. My Ernest said I should go in an’ ’ave it done but I’m terrified of ’ospitals.’

‘What is it, Maud, stones?’ Maisie enquired.

Maudie nodded. ‘I’ve ’ad ’em fer years.’

Aggie pulled a face. ‘Nellie Tanner was tellin’ me once ’er Will ’elped the vet bloke operate on one o’ the ’orses fer a stone. Large as a cannonball it was, and all colours o’ the rainbow. She said ’er ole man pickled it. I don’t know if she’s still got it but it used ter be on ’er mantelshelf. I ain’t seen it when I’ve bin in there though, not lately.’

Maudie turned pale. ‘Well, I’d better get orf in,’ she said quickly, wondering what colour her stones might be.

The two watched her walk off along the street and Maisie turned to her friend. ‘Funny woman she is, Aggie. Frightened of everyfing. D’yer remember when we all come out an’ stopped ole Galloway exercisin’ them ’orses? She was terrified we was all gonna get locked up.’

Aggie nodded. ‘I don’t fink she was scared fer ’erself, though. She was more concerned about what the muvvers’ meetin’ was gonna say, accordin’ ter ’er Ernest.’

‘She don’t still go ter them meetin’s, does she?’ Maisie asked. ‘I thought she packed it in when they caught the vicar wiv ’is ’and in the collection-box.’

‘Nah. Maudie’s got a crush on the new vicar,’ Aggie informed her. ‘She reckons the sun shines out of ’is arse.’