‘Did you say his name were Toby?’ the boy grinned. ‘Only there’s a Punch an’ Judy man what’s goin’ to do an act presently and his little dawg’s called Toby. I knew it were a dog’s name, but I never thought it could be a feller’s an’ all.’
‘A dog’s name!’ Patty felt the hot blood of fury rise in her cheeks. What an ignorant, rude boy he was, to say such a thing. She longed to give him a hard slap and tell him that Toby was a grand fellow, both bigger and handsomer than himself, but, just as she was about to do so, someone called her name. Patty swung round, completely forgetting the boy; had Laura caught up with her at last?
But it was not Laura. The face she had begun to believe she would never see again grinned at her, not a foot from her shoulder. It was Toby. He was wearing a rough brown jacket and ragged trousers, and despite the coldness of the day he was barefoot, but it was Toby all right, looking delighted to find her. ‘Toby!’ Patty squeaked. ‘Oh, I’ve kept my eye on the loose brick but there’s never been a message so I’d quite given up. What’s been happening to you?’
‘Three days after you and me were on the loose, I got away again,’ Toby told her, speaking rapidly. ‘I never had a chance to leave you a message ’cos this time I cleared off wi’ an’ old pal o’ mine. He were one of them fellers with a barrel organ and a little monkey – I knew him from me old life – and he were lookin’ for a young feller to take the hat round when his act were over. So he and me joined up …’
‘I though wi’ a name like Toby you was a-goin’ to say the feller had lost his monkey and wanted you to take its place,’ a voice said, rather jeeringly. ‘I just telled that gal there weren’t no fellers called Toby, only little dawgs, but I see I were mistaken.’
It was the boy Patty had addressed first. Patty hoped that Toby would punch him on the nose, but Toby just gave him a disparaging glance and continued with his story. ‘I telled the old feller – his name were Mac – that it weren’t safe for me to stay in Liverpool, so we made our way to Manchester, earning money as we went. He were an Irishman though, desperate keen to get back to the old country as he called it, and we were makin’ our way back to Liverpool to catch the boat for Dun Laoghaire when he were took ill. He died in a little village and Parson buried him there. He were real kind to me – I didn’t tell him I’d escaped from an orphan asylum, mind you – and put me in touch with Flanagan’s Fair …’ He jerked his head towards the group of performers Patty had been watching. ‘That’s them, or some of ’em, rather. We decided to split up ’cos the boss reckons we make more money that way. I’m takin’ the hat round, or was, but when we’s on a proper gaff I do all sorts. I looks after the hoop-la stall, barks for the fat lady and the thinnest man in the world, sells herbal medicine, cooks sausages to sell to the flatties …’
‘There! I said Toby was a name for a dog and norra feller and I were right,’ the other boy said triumphantly. ‘Fellers don’t bark, but dogs does. And what are flatties when they’re at home?’
Once more, Patty hoped that Toby would thump the other boy, but instead he said quite patiently: ‘It’s fair talk. A barker stands outside a tent where a show’s being given and tells folk what they’re goin’ to miss if they don’t pay up their money and go inside.’ He grinned at the boy. ‘And you’re a flattie; so’s young Patty here. It’s show people’s name for the rest of you.’
The boy opened his mouth and Patty shot him a menacing look. She was sure he meant to make some unpleasant remark about Patty the flattie, but her intention to punch him on the nose herself if he did so must have shown in her eyes for he only said: ‘Well, now you’ve cleared that up, what say we go an’ gerrus a paper o’ chips? I’m in the money, I am.’
‘It’ll take us hours to fight our way through the crowds,’ Toby pointed out. ‘Tell you what, let’s link arms, the three of us, with Patty in the middle, and we’ll see what else there is to see. A feller wi’ a hot pie just went past; I wouldn’t mind a hot pie.’
The rest of the evening was magic so far as Patty was concerned. She and Toby managed to lose the other boy and had a delightful wander through the streets, now oohing and aahing over fireworks, now biting into a deliciously charred potato from the heart of the huge bonfire, now drinking fizzy red cherryade out of a bottle stoppered with a glass marble. They danced the two-step and then the turkey trot; they sang many of the songs which the soldiers had sung in the trenches and watched, uncomprehendingly, as both men and women wept at the sound of the familiar tunes. To them, this was a victory celebration, and having known nothing of the war – and in Patty’s case, at least, nothing of the pain of loss – they thought that every face should be smiling and every man and woman rejoicing with them.
When, at last, the stars began to fade and the sky to pale in the east, Toby accompanied Patty back to The Elms. He told her how sorry he was that he could not take her back to the fair with him, but explained that it would only lead to trouble for his friends, the Flanagans. ‘Because you’re a girl and only eleven,’ he told her, ‘the scuffers would be after you, and wi’ that light yellow hair you ain’t exactly easy to miss, are you? I’m fourteen so I’m all right now.’
‘But I want to go with you,’ Patty said tearfully, clinging to his jacket sleeve. ‘I’ve never wanted anything so much in my whole life. I could be really useful. I’d work ever so hard … I’m good at housework and I can cook … oh, Toby, do take me back with you.’
‘It’s no use, Patty. There ain’t much that girls can do in a fair unless they’ve been raised to it, like. Besides, didn’t you tell me last time we met you was goin’ to be a nurse when you growed up? A fair is no place for a nurse!’
Patty acknowledged the truth of this last remark but wished that she had never told Toby about her ambition. Nursing sounded awfully tame when compared with the life Toby was leading, but in her heart she knew the latter was not for her. Selina had fired her enthusiasm for looking after people, making the ill well again, and besides, she liked order and neatness and guessed that life on the gaff, with its constant moves, would be chaotic. Nevertheless, she hated the thought of losing touch with Toby, and said as much.
‘Well, now that the war’s over, Mr Flanagan, my boss, is talkin’ of goin’ over to France this winter to find new sideshows. He says a showman’s life is good over there, particularly on the south coast, where there’s still plenty of money in folks’ pockets,’ Toby told her. ‘We’ll be back in England some day, but I can’t say when. Mr F.’s got big ideas – he’s a rare one for takin’ on new acts – and he’s heard of a feller somewhere in France who’s selling a galloper – that’s a roundabout to you, Patty. He reckons it’ll go cheap and he’s dead keen to buy one because with a big attraction like that he could be Riding Master of his own fair in no time, which is what Mr F. and his wife have always wanted. They used to have three sons but Bob and Samuel were killed in the war, so that only leaves young Teddy. I’m sorry about Bob and Sam, of course I am, but Mr F.’s treated me real good since they went an’ I know he needs me. Once he’s got the galloper, I’m the only one who knows how to drive it and service it, which will make me really valuable. We’ll work our way across the country, endin’ up meetin’ this feller what owns the galloper. But knowin’ Mr F., we’ll pick up half a dozen other acts or curiosities along the way. So next time I sees you, you’ll probably be in a nurse’s uniform, tendin’ the sick.’
‘Can’t we make some arrangement?’ Patty asked wistfully, as he turned to leave her. ‘Couldn’t you come back – oh, say in a year’s time – so’s we could see each other and catch up? We could meet on Lime Street station, under the clock, say one year from today.’
‘I might be still in France …’ Toby was beginning but some of the disappointment she felt must have shown in Patty’s face for he suddenly grinned at her and tweaked a lock of her hair. ‘All right, but a year’s too soon. Why not in five years?’ he said. ‘By then we’ll have a good bit of news to tell one another because we’ll both be working. Of course, it’s hard for me to say where I’ll be in a year. The war’s disrupted things, you see, so we’ll be having to make new arrangements, I guess. But in five years things should have settled down a bit and I should be able to make plans. Right, on the fifteenth of November, 1923, at twelve noon, we’ll meet under the clock on Lime Street station. And if I just can’t be there … well, how about the following year? Same time, same place, but 1924. That way, if I’m out o’ the country or up in the north of Scotland or somewhere in 1923, we can still get in touch. If I’m not there, you’ll know I’m still abroad or unable to get to Liverpool. OK?’
‘If I’m not there, you’ll know I’m dead,’ Patty said mournfully. ‘But wouldn’t it be safer if I say I’ll be on Lime Street station at noon on the fifteenth of November every year? Oh, I don’t mean before the five years,’ she added hastily, seeing a slight frown appear upon his brow. ‘I mean after 1924. I know fairs move around and I know you might not be able to come to Liverpool, but I don’t mind spending a few minutes in Lime Street station once a year. Honest I don’t. Would that be all right?’
‘Well, all right,’ Toby said. He looked hunted. ‘I’ll do me best to be there in five years’ time, honest to God I will. But now I’m off or they’ll think I’ve been blowed sky high by a rocket or ate by a Welsh dragon. Take care o’ yourself, queen.’
‘Goodbye, Toby, and good luck!’ Patty responded. She stood watching until he had disappeared then turned, with a sigh, towards Durrant House. And the next five years. It seemed a terribly long time before she and Toby would meet again.
By a great piece of luck, as Patty turned into the drive of Durrant House, she saw a small figure approaching her from the direction of Peel Street. It was Laura. The two girls re-entered the house together and, despite the fact that it was five o’clock in the morning, stayed awake for a further thirty minutes, exchanging experiences.
Next morning, they somehow managed to get out of bed when the bell sounded but were so pale and listless that Miss Briggs, fearing more ’flu victims, sent them back to bed for the rest of the day. They were happy to obey her, but by four o’clock conscience got them up and dressed, and downstairs once more. They were glad they were able to give a hand since more girls – and another member of staff – had gone down with the ’flu and conditions were chaotic.
‘You’d best go and help Cook; she’s making a nice stew for those able to eat it and a big tureen of semolina pudding for those who can’t stomach ordinary food,’ Miss Briggs said, putting a hand to her head and looking distracted. ‘There was a message for you, Patty, but I can’t recall what it was. Oh, I think a friend of yours has got the ’flu. Anyway, get on with your tasks and perhaps tomorrow, if things are easier here, it might be possible for you to visit her. Selina, that’s who it was!’
‘Oh, poor Selina,’ Patty muttered as she and Laura made their way to the kitchen. ‘I know nurses get the ’flu just like ordinary people, but I hope they get better treatment as well. I will try and see her tomorrow, if Briggsy agrees.’
But for the next two days, both girls were so busy that they scarcely had time to think. November 15 had been a Friday, but though the girls usually had a little more freedom at the weekend, on this occasion they were forced to remain in Durrant House. On the Saturday morning, two of the older ’flu victims, Miss Dodds and one of the kitchen staff, died, which meant that Miss Briggs had her hands full, though another member of staff, Miss Collins, did her best to take the older teacher’s place. Then, on Sunday, two of the orphans died and another two went down with the ’flu and were admitted to hospital since Miss Briggs felt that they could no longer cope alone. On Monday, however, Patty was sent out to do the messages with the faithful Laura by her side, and as soon as they were well clear of The Elms Patty told Laura that she meant to visit Selina’s hospital before she did anything else. ‘Because there might be some little thing we could get her whilst we’re visiting the shops,’ she told Laura. ‘Selina’s been a good friend to me and she must have wanted me to know she was ill or she wouldn’t have sent the message. Come to think of it, it’s odd that she sent a message at all, knowing how difficult it is for us to get out of the Durrant.’ She clutched her friend’s arm. ‘Oh, Laura, suppose she’s very sick, suppose she – she were to die? Let’s hurry!’
They reached the nurses’ home and made their way towards Selina’s room but were stopped by a flustered-looking nurse whom Patty recognised as one of Selina’s friends. ‘If you’ve come to see Selina, you won’t find her here,’ she said. She looked at Patty with an odd expression on her face. ‘But – are you sure you ought to see her, queen? She’s very, very ill, but surely they told you that?’
‘No one told me anything,’ Patty said, her heart beginning to jump about in her chest in a very frightening way. ‘Miss Briggs said there was a message for me but so much has happened. Several people have died of the ’flu and others have gone sick … if Selina isn’t in her room, where is she?’ She clutched the older girl’s sleeve. ‘She – she isn’t going to die, is she, Nurse?’
‘She’s very ill,’ the older girl repeated. ‘Look, I know you’re a good friend of hers so I’ll take you along to the ward and, if Sister agrees, you can see her. I went in yesterday morning, so perhaps she’ll be better by now, more – more herself.’
By now Patty was desperate to see her friend for herself. She, Laura and the nurse hurried across to the main hospital and began to thread their way through various corridors. The double doors at the end of the children’s ward were open and Patty glanced in. This was the ward Selina liked the most and talked about with great enthusiasm. As her eyes passed across the rows of cots and small beds, something stirred in the back of Patty’s mind, but then she was hurrying on once more, too concerned about Selina to follow up a vague feeling that she had seen something of importance.