‘Yes, I do see. I got beat up by a big boy once, when I were only seven,’ Patty told him. They paused to look, hungrily, at a corner shop from which enticing smells of various foods drifted out to their nostrils.
‘This here’s Scotland Road; do you want to take your boots off or will you keep them on your feet till we gets to Paddy’s market?’
‘I’ll keep them on my feet,’ Patty said decidedly. There were a great many people crowding the pavements and even walking in the road and most of them, she thought apprehensively, looked quite capable of snatching her boots, which represented her dinner, and making off with them. Whilst they were on her feet – and tightly laced up – she told herself she would give anyone trying to nick them a good kick in the face, and that would put a stop to any thoughts of theft.
‘Toby, why did you light out?’ Patty asked curiously, as they made their way along the crowded pavement. ‘I told you why I went.’
‘Oh, I means to meet up wi’ another fair as soon as I’m able,’ Toby said airily. ‘There’s fairs and fair folk plying their trade all over the country, you know. Why, for all Texas Ted thinks he’s so wonderful, he ain’t nothin’ special. There’s bigger and better what ’ud take me on like a shot once they knew I were lookin’ for work, like. Me dad taught me how to service the steam engines and to drive them and there’s no sideshow I couldn’t man, I reckon. Wharrabout yourself, queen? I mean, I knows you left ’cos the old witch hit you, but where’s you headin’? Have you got a mam or a dad, or aunts and that?’
Much though Patty liked Toby Rudd, she decided that vagueness was her best course. ‘I dunno; I dunno exactly where I’m heading,’ she said absently, as though she had a million places to choose from. ‘I’ve got relatives all right, but this time I thought I’d try to cross the water. There’s lovely country over there – my friend Selina took me for a day out yesterday – and I reckoned I could sleep in haystacks and live off the land, like they do in storybooks. What about you?’
‘Well, I wouldn’t say you’d do awful well at this time o’ year,’ Toby was beginning when he broke off abruptly. ‘Here’s the market, just about the best place to shop in the whole of the ‘Pool,’ he said authoritatively. ‘Come on, gal, and don’t argue when I starts to bargain over them nice boots o’ yourn. Awright?’
‘The more money we get the bigger the dinner I’m going to eat,’ Patty said joyfully. ‘I say, aren’t I glad you and me met up! But how come you know about places like this, and that – that canny whatever it was you telled me about just now?’
‘Mam and me were on the streets, buskin’, for the best part of a year before she died,’ Toby explained, leading her between the many fascinating stalls with which the market was crowded. ‘You gets to know a place awful well when you’re doin’ that.’
‘Buskin’? What’s that when it’s at home?’ Patty asked curiously, following close on his heels and actually taking hold of the end of his shirt, for it would, she felt, have been all too easy to lose him in the crush of bargain-hunters who surrounded them. ‘Something to do wi’ the fair, is it?’
‘Not really. It’s what you might call street entertainment, I suppose,’ Toby said. ‘Buskers are the fellers – or women, or kids – who move up an’ down theatre or cinema queues, playin’ or tellin’ stories or singin’ songs for a few coppers. Now here’s the stall where I selled me shoes. Take ’em off and hang ’em round your neck by their laces … and do
try
not to look like a perishin’ orphan who needs some money.’
Patty would have enquired indignantly just how she was supposed to do this, but taking off her boots without being knocked over by passers-by proved to be a task which required all her attention, and by the time she had the laces around her neck Toby was pulling her towards the stall he had selected, breaking into a positive hymn of praise to the excellence of the boots the moment he caught the stallholder’s eye.
The stallholder was a wispy little woman with fair hair going grey, rather protruding pale blue eyes and quick, bird-like movements. Her stall was piled with second-hand clothing and there was a large section given over to footwear. It did not need the significant jerk of his head to draw Patty’s attention to his shoes. They were the only pair on the stall which did not look as though they had been owned – and worn – by half a dozen people before being sold to the little stallholder. Though the stallholder gave them both a bright smile, Patty was sure she would be sharp as an eagle where bargaining was concerned and feared for her new friend’s self-esteem, but she need not have worried. Toby gave as good as he got whilst laughing and joking with the woman, and even when she pointed out that the boots were winter ones and would be ‘eatin’ their bleedin’ heads off for the next four or five weeks ’cos no one won’t buy winter boots at this time o’ year,’ Toby was not dismayed.
‘Oh aye, so you’ll feed ’em wi’ boot blacking twice a week, will you? You can’t fool me, missus, them boots will go up in price a couple o’ pence or even a tanner, so by the time folks is buying for the winter they’ll have gained a couple o’ bob and probably cost you all of three-farthings in blacking.’
This made the woman laugh and after one more, rather half-hearted attempt to get Toby to reduce his asking price, she sighed deeply, stood the boots at the back of the stall and passed a handful of small change across the counter.
The two children turned away and were soon back on the Scotland Road once more. Here, Toby would have given the cash to Patty but she shook her head. ‘I’ve got no pocket and me knicker elastic’s a bit weak; you take care of the money,’ she hissed. ‘What about my white socks, though, Toby? Shouldn’t I take them off as well? They’re my Sunday ones, because I’d been for a day out just before I ran away.’
Toby’s eyes brightened. ‘Take ’em off,’ he said at once. ‘Another copper or two won’t come amiss. Or shall we give ’em to her? I wouldn’t mind doin’ that, ’cos next time we wants to sell something, it’ll be easier.’
‘Yes, you give them to her if you want,’ Patty said grandly. She had liked the stallholder and quite saw the good sense of a small free gift. ‘But what else can we sell, Toby? I won’t sell my dress, and I used my coat like a blanket to sleep under last night, so I’d rather not sell that.’
Toby looked critically at the thin brown coat which Patty had tied round her waist, knotting the sleeves in front of her. ‘Well, we won’t sell it yet,’ he said. ‘You may need that if it gets any colder.’
Patty felt a smile spreading over her face. It was clear that Toby did not envisage being recaptured too quickly and she was beginning to suspect that what Toby wanted, he usually got. In this case, he wanted his freedom, as did she, so with a bit of luck they really might get away, even stay away.
The two children made their way back into Paddy’s market and Toby handed the stallholder the white socks. ‘Because next time we wants to sell something, you’ll mebbe remember we give you the socks, and make us a good price,’ he said, grinning at the woman. ‘We’ll be seein’ you, missus.’
Once outside in the sunshine again, they headed for the nearest canny house and were soon settled in a steamy, smoky little room, filled with chattering, laughing workmen, all intent upon catching the waitress’s eye. The tables were made out of old orange boxes, the plates were enamel and the cutlery was tin, but the food, when it eventually came, was excellent. Patty thought it immensely superior to orphanage food, compared it favourably with Mrs Thornton’s lovely cooking, and was soon scraping her plate clean with a piece of bread and drinking the last of a mug of strong, sweet tea.
‘That were prime, weren’t it?’ Toby said, as they left the establishment. ‘Is we goin’ to cross the water or ain’t we? If you’re set on it, we’ll try to get aboard the ferry today, but for meself, I think we need a bit more money. Will they be lookin’ out for you yet?’
‘I dunno,’ Patty said truthfully. ‘This is the first time I’ve run away and I can’t remember anyone else ever doing so. What difference does it make?’
‘Why, ’cos they’ll watch the ferries, o’course, and they’ll put the word out to the scuffers to keep an eye on anywhere that a kid might use to kip down in,’ Toby said, rather scornfully. ‘They’ll guess we’ll make for the countryside or mebbe even for Ireland, which is where I want to go. Me mam and dad both came from Ireland, years ago, and I’ve a grosh of relatives there, not all of ’em fair folk. So if it’s all the same to you, I’d rather stay in the city and get some pelf so’s we can pay our way for a while.’
‘And how do you mean to get this money?’ Patty asked, rather suspiciously. ‘Not by nicking stuff?’
‘I telled you. We’ll busk to the folk waitin’ to get into the theatre or cinema or we’ll hang about the stations or the tram stops, and I’ll play my whistle and you can sing,’ Toby said. ‘But if you want something to wear what’s a bit less obvious than that dress, then I reckon we’ll have to do a bit o’ robbin’. Or we could buy somethin’ plain and cheap off of that woman what took your boots,’ he added thoughtfully. ‘What do you say? Shall we get us some money first and then think about catchin’ a ferry?’
By this time, Patty already had a good deal of faith in Toby’s judgement. If he thought they should stay in the city and earn some money, then she was sure he was right. She said as much, and that evening, when he insisted that they walk out to the suburbs to find themselves somewhere to sleep, she went willingly, though by the time they reached the destination he had in mind she was extremely tired.
‘Here we are,’ Toby said cheerfully. They had stopped outside a fence of chestnut palings, beyond which were a great many garden plots. Each one had some sort of edifice – a shed or shelter of some kind – erected upon it. The gate into the area was padlocked but Toby and Patty climbed it with ease, dropping down on the other side. It was growing dark by now, but Toby led the way, unerringly, to the shack he had in mind. He ignored the door, which was also padlocked, but went round the back where he carefully removed one of the planks of which it was constructed, squeezing his way into the dark interior and beckoning Patty to follow. ‘I’ve been here several times and no one ever comes near nor by after dark. What’s more, there’s a pile of sacks in the corner which make a nice soft bed, and if you don’t mind a bit of dirt there’s usually a bag of potatoes or beetroot or carrots what the feller’s taken from the clamps but not took home yet.’
He rooted around and presently he and Patty were curled up amongst the sacks, crunching carrots. ‘I could do with a drink of water,’ Patty said sleepily, ‘but I don’t s’pose there’s a tap around, is there?’ The grit from the carrots had lodged, rather uncomfortably, in her teeth and for the first time she actually missed one aspect of the orphanage: the small pink toothbrush and the round tin of tooth powder which stood on the washstand in her room.
But Toby, it seemed, was equal to most things. ‘Yes, there’s a tap, so’s the fellers what owns the allotments can water their plants,’ he said sleepily. ‘I usually wash the carrots and spuds under it and have a drink before I settle down, but tonight I was so tired I forgot. Want to come wi’ me? Only I’ve got nothing to bring water back in.’
Patty was about to say that she would go with him when sleep fell upon her as abruptly as a blind descending and she knew no more.
For three glorious days the two children enjoyed their newfound freedom. They did exactly as Toby had planned, playing and singing to the queues of people waiting for admittance to theatres and cinemas in the evenings and doing quite well, especially when Toby began to turn somersaults and cartwheels in between sessions on the penny whistle. He tried to teach Patty to walk on her hands but she was not very good at it, saying it made her feel sick to stay upside down for very long. However, her small, sweet singing voice brought in a good many pennies, though Toby told her that folk paid because she had such pretty yellow hair and such an appealing look rather than because they liked her voice.
‘You’ve gorra learn some more sad songs like “Danny Boy” and “Keep the Home Fires Burning”,’ Toby told her earnestly. ‘There were tears dripping off the nose of that fat old woman, what said her son was in France, when you sang, “Danny Boy”. In fact, most o’ the queue were cryin’. It’s odd, ain’t it, that they puts more money in the tin when you makes ’em cry than when I makes ’em laugh.’
Patty thought it was odd too but agreed they should take advantage of adults’ strangenesses and the two runaways continued to enjoy their free life and the warm and sunny weather.
Despite Patty’s fears, they had not, so far, been reduced to stealing since their nights were spent in the allotment shed and the money they made from busking provided them with one good, cooked meal a day, as well as a variety of snacks – wet nellies, cinnamon sticks and an occasional ounce of toffee or Everton Mints. Although they found the cinema and theatre queues lucrative places beside which to sing and play, they had to be careful just where they plied their new trade. An attempt to do so on Lime Street station had led to an ugly encounter between themselves and a couple of down-at-heel ex-servicemen who entertained travellers by playing on an accordion and a mouth organ. They did not mean to let a couple of kids invade their pitch. Both men had been injured in the war – one lacked an arm, the other a leg and an eye – but this did not stop them from giving Toby and Patty a good hiding. Limping away from the station with ringing heads and tingling ears, the children decided that they had been unwise to try to horn in on what was obviously a very profitable business. They never stayed long in one spot, anxious to avoid the attention of the scuffers. ‘For once they notice us, they’ll remember there’s a couple of kids gone missin’ from orphanages,’ Toby said gloomily. ‘But never mind, eh? We’s done awright from the flatties, and I guess we’ll just give the stations a wide berth in future.’