‘Come on, Davy,’ Eliza said, tugging at his sleeve. ‘Whatever he’s done wrong, he needs a bit of help now. We’d best get him home.’
Arthur’s legs buckled at the knees and his feet shot out in different directions. Davy and the bearded stranger staggered beneath his weight as they worked together to keep him from falling to the ground.
‘If you don’t mind me asking, sir,’ Davy said breathlessly, ‘who the devil are you?’
‘I’m William Booth, my boy,’ he said, relinquishing his hold on Arthur to put his top hat straight. ‘I am a minister in the Methodist Church. My good wife, Catherine, and I run the East End Christian Mission in an attempt to save poor souls like your father.’
‘No hope there, sir,’ Davy said, hoisting Arthur over his shoulder in a fireman’s lift. ‘I’ll take him on now; we’re not far from home. I thank you for your trouble.’
William pulled a card from his breast pocket and handed it to Eliza. ‘When this good man sobers up, send him round to my mission. We can help him.’
‘Where’s me new mate Willum?’ Arthur demanded in a slurred voice as he hung over Davy’s shoulder. ‘Are we in Australia? You’re all upside down.’
‘God bless you, old chap,’ William said, bending double to peer into Arthur’s florid face. ‘I hope to see you in the mission.’
‘That’ll be the day.’ Davy walked off, staggering beneath Arthur’s considerable weight.
‘He don’t mean to be rude, sir,’ Eliza said, embarrassed by Davy’s rudeness. After all, the gent had only been trying to help.
William smiled down at her. ‘No need to apologise, my dear. But it would be of benefit both to Arthur and his family if he were to attend.’
She watched him walk away with the feeling that here was a great and a good man. Somehow all her troubles seemed trivial in the face of such a splendid spirit. Davy was halfway down the street and she had to run to catch up with him.
‘Damned creeping Jesus,’ he said, hefting Arthur higher on his shoulder. ‘He should mind his own business. I’m going to take the old soak home.’
She knew better than to argue with Davy when he was angry. ‘You do that, Davy. And be sure to tell Ada that she can have the house for as long as she wants it. There’s no question of rent until you gets yourself fixed up with a ship.’
‘At least Pete’s still got his job in the brewery.’ Davy shot her a resigned glance beneath his furrowed brows. ‘I know the old lady will want to pay you something, but if you could cut the rent down a bit, I’d be more than grateful. I’ll pay you back as soon as I can. I promise I will.’
‘Don’t even think about repayment. Friends and family help each other in times of need. You’d do the same for me.’
For a moment, Eliza thought she saw a tear sparkle in the corner of Davy’s eye, but he turned away too quickly for her to be certain. She stood, watching him tote his human burden until he disappeared round the corner of Green Bank into Bird Street, then, with a heartfelt sigh, she made her way home to Hemp Yard. She would have to break the news gently to Millie that Davy would be going away to sea, and she must prepare Dolly for Ted’s funeral: she didn’t know which task was going to be the harder.
After the funeral, when everything had been paid for, including a modest wake held at Paddy’s Goose, Eliza counted out the remainder of the money from the cash box. With strict economy, they might be able to live until Christmas, but without any income from the shop, and only half the rent from the property in Bird Street, it was going to be difficult.
Millie had moped about for a day or two after being told that Davy was looking for a shipmaster to take him on, and then without saying a word to Eliza she went out early one morning, returning late in the evening. By this time, Eliza was sick with worry, and she was about to send Davy out looking for her when Millie came breezing through the door, looking very pleased with herself. Eliza’s initial outburst of anger was tempered with relief and then concern when she
saw Millie’s dishevelled and exhausted state. She would not listen to explanations until Millie had supped a bowl of bread and milk.
After she had eaten, Millie admitted that she had walked all the way to Covent Garden Market and had joined the women grubbing about amongst the flower stalls, picking up stray and broken blooms. The street flower sellers were a close-knit group who resented strangers encroaching on their territory, but they had seemed to take her youth into account and had not chased her off. The West End was their favoured place for setting up their pitches, and Millie had trudged all the way to the City where she had sold her nosegays on the steps of St Paul’s. She pressed five pennies into Eliza’s hand and blushed to the roots of her hair when Davy picked her up and kissed her on both cheeks.
Two weeks later, and after many hours of footslogging around the docks and wharves, Davy had found a captain of a tea clipper bound for India who was only too pleased to take him on as a sailmaker. It was a tearful farewell. Eliza wept silently, trying to put a brave face on things, but Millie hung around his neck, sobbing as if her heart would break.
Davy disentangled her arms and kissed her on the tip of her nose, smiling down into her tear-drenched blue eyes. ‘Goodbye, nipper. Be good for Liza. She’s going to need all your help.’
‘You treat me like a kid,’ Millie said, scowling.
Davy tugged at her tumbled curls. ‘Don’t never grow up. Stay just as you are, young Millie. I wouldn’t change a single thing about you.’
‘You don’t understand nothing.’ Millie’s voice broke on a sob. She pushed past him and raced up the stairs. The whole house shook as she slammed the door of the room she shared with Eliza.
‘What did I say?’ Davy turned to Eliza with a baffled look.
She could not betray a confidence. ‘Don’t worry. She’ll get over it.’
‘Are you going somewhere then, Davy dear?’ Dolly had been drowsing under the influence of laudanum, but the slamming of the door had awakened her with a start. She stared at Davy with a bemused frown. ‘Are you going up West? Can I come with you?’
Eliza tucked a crocheted blanket around her. ‘Not today, Mum. Maybe tomorrow.’
‘Oh, but I want to go up West today.’ Dolly’s lips trembled and her eyes misted with tears. ‘I need me medicine, Liza. I feel one of my turns coming on.’
‘It’s too soon, Mum. You had some not an hour ago.’
‘I’m shaking all over. I’m having one of me turns.’
‘Best go, Davy,’ Eliza said, reaching for the bottle of laudanum.
‘I’ll wait outside.’ Davy blew a kiss to Dolly and hurried out into the street.
As soon as Dolly was settled, Eliza followed him. He was leaning against the wall, waiting for her. He smiled and held out his arms. ‘I’ll miss you, girl.’
It seemed the most natural thing in the world to walk into his outstretched arms. Eliza smiled up into his face, realising just how much she would miss him. She had always taken Davy’s presence for granted, but now he was really leaving: going away for months, maybe even years. He held her close and kissed her long and hard on the lips. ‘I’ll take the memory of that with me, girl.’
‘Oh, Davy.’ Eliza choked back tears as she saw the naked emotion in his eyes. She couldn’t send him away thinking that she didn’t care for him. It was a dangerous life at sea. What if he never came back? What if he were to disappear from her life like Bart and Freddie? She slipped her arms around his neck and closing her eyes she pulled his head down until their lips met. With the thought of their parting clamping like a cold hand on her heart, she gave herself up to the sensuous delight of being held in a man’s arms and tasting the sweetness of her first real kiss. Something awakened inside her that was a need
long denied, a heat and desire that was alien and frightening, but equally wonderful. Even as her body revelled in its first experience of sexual arousal, a small voice inside her head told her that this was wrong and she was cheating Davy by allowing it to happen. She tore her mouth free, pushing him away with the flat of her hands. This was all wrong – Davy was like a brother to her. For a mad, mad moment she had allowed herself to imagine that it was Freddie who held her in his arms, crushing her body against his, devouring her lips, touching her mind and soul and setting her pulses racing. She saw the hurt in Davy’s eyes and she turned her head away with a laugh that sounded, even to her own ears, more like a sob. ‘Get on with you, Davy. You’ll have me crying too in a moment. Best go now. Best go.’ When he did not answer, Eliza shot him an anxious glance beneath her lashes. She would remember that stark look for as long as she lived.
Silently, Davy picked up his ditty bag and strode off towards the docks.
‘Oh, Davy,’ Eliza whispered. ‘I am so sorry.’ But he was too far away to hear her. Unable to face going back into the house, she decided to walk as far as the chandlery: she needed to see how the work was progressing, and it would take her mind off the tumult of emotions that raged in her breast. She would not think about
love and loss now; she would concentrate on the one solid thing in her life – the shop that was her rock, and her livelihood.
She would have liked to have had a say in the rebuilding of the store, but Aaron held the purse strings and he had given Brandon the task of overseeing the project. Brandon was at the site every day, giving orders and generally making himself unpopular. Eliza knew that the men disliked him and sniggered about his blatant lack of knowledge of the practical side of building, but at least he kept them from slacking. There was just one condition that she had insisted on before she signed the contract, and that was to have Arnold and Dippy Dan hired as labourers. She could not see faithful Arnold and his invalid mother go hungry. They had taken Dan in after his father had abandoned him, and now Arnold cared for the poor, slow-witted boy as if he were his own son.
Eliza paused on the corner of Old Gravel Lane, her problems momentarily eased by the sight of four bricklayers working on the beginnings of the new walls. It was early September, and, although the fierce heat had gone out of the sun, it was still warm and pleasant and above all dry, so that the work could progress at a pleasing rate. She could see Arnold’s bare torso, glistening with sweat as he mixed cement, and Dan was helping him, or maybe hindering him. She
smiled at the sight of the unlikely pair working together. Arnold seemed to have endless patience with Dan and made use of his muscle power, if not his brains. As she crossed the street, she looked up at the sound of an approaching horse’s hooves. Her heart sank as she saw Brandon riding towards her. As usual, he was impeccably dressed from his gleaming leather boots to the points of his starched shirt collar. As he drew his chestnut stallion to a halt beside her, he lifted a gloved hand to doff his top hat. ‘Miss Bragg. Good morning.’
Even more conscious of her faded, outdated mourning dress and shabby bonnet, Eliza bobbed a curtsey. ‘Good morning, Mr Miller.’ She was about to walk on, but he dismounted and leading his horse by its reins he fell into step beside her.
‘It won’t be long now and you’ll have your emporium ready for business.’
‘Yes, the builders seem to be doing a splendid job.’
‘Only because I keep them at it. Turn your back on these fellows and they’ll not only slack, but they’ll sell off materials and find no end of different ways to cheat their employer. They need a firm hand, Miss Bragg, just like a thoroughbred Arab stallion.’
‘Or a woman?’ Eliza shot him a sideways glance. She had vowed that she would not
antagonise him, but somehow the words always seemed to escape from her lips before she could stop them.
Brandon stopped, eyeing her suspiciously, and then he laughed. ‘I wouldn’t have the nerve to say that to a spirited woman such as yourself.’
‘But you think it nevertheless?’ Somehow she couldn’t stop needling him. He was so cocksure of himself that Eliza wanted to prick the bubble of his self-esteem, but it seemed that she had failed again as everything she said appeared to amuse him. It was so frustrating that she would have liked to knock his top hat to the ground and stamp on it.
‘Here, boy!’ Brandon waved at Dan. ‘Hold my horse.’
Dan looked up at Arnold, who nodded his assent.
‘Handle him carefully, boy,’ Brandon said, handing over the reins. ‘Walk him up and down and have a care. That nag cost me a fortune at Tattersalls.’
As Dan led the horse up the street, Eliza turned to Brandon with an exasperated sigh. ‘Don’t you never stop boasting about your blooming money?’
A pained expression muddied his dark eyes. ‘That isn’t fair. I was just stating a point.’
‘You was boasting. You can’t forget that your dad is rich, but it doesn’t make you better than the rest of us, Brandon Miller.’
His frown dissolved into a smile. ‘You called me Brandon. That’s the first time I’ve heard you use my Christian name, Eliza. I may call you Eliza, mayn’t I?’
Shrugging her shoulders, Eliza stepped over the threshold into what would be the main shop area of the chandlery. ‘Call me what you like, Mr Miller. But I’d prefer to keep our business dealings formal.’
‘Don’t be like that, my dear. We got off on the wrong foot, but I’d like us to be friends as well as business partners.’
She turned to give him a cool look. ‘Why? Why would you want to be friends with a common girl like me? You’ve made it pretty plain what you think of the lower orders, so why bother to pretend?’
‘I’m hurt. No, I’m more than hurt that you think of me as a – a snob. I have standards it’s true, but I would never look down on a beautiful and clever young woman such as yourself.’
‘There you go again,’ Eliza said, shaking her head. ‘You can’t help it, can you? Patronising, pompous and too big for your breeches.’
‘There, you do like me. Admit it, Eliza. You find me irresistible.’
She was about to retaliate, when she saw a twinkle in his eyes. The humour behind his banter was not lost on Eliza and she managed a smile. ‘I suppose you’re not all that bad really.’
‘So we can be friends as well as business colleagues?’
‘Maybe, but only if you stop treating me like an empty-headed butterfly-brain.’
With an exaggerated gesture, Brandon crossed his heart. ‘I will, but only on the condition that you accept my father’s invitation to our home for dinner on Friday evening.’