The Cockney Sparrow (23 page)

Clemency’s knees buckled, and she sank down onto the nearest chair. ‘You’ve both been so kind to her. We can’t thank you enough.’

‘It was me who introduced her to Connor.’ Ned stared down at his boots, and his cheeks reddened. ‘I feel to blame in part.’

‘You wasn’t to know, old chap.’ Jack stubbed out his cigarette in an overflowing ashtray. ‘I should have sorted the bugger out when I saw what he was up to.’

‘Neither of you were to blame,’ Clemency said, shaking her head. ‘Ma is a grown woman. She made her choice, and she made a mistake picking a chancer like Mickey Connor.’

‘I had words with him this afternoon.’ Ned flexed his fingers. ‘I told him what had happened.’

Clemency gave him a searching look. ‘Did he want to see Ma and make things right with her?’

He shook his head. ‘Connor didn’t want to know, but I give him something he’ll remember for a long time to come.’

‘I’ll shake your hand, mate,’ Jack said, with a rueful smile twisting his lips. ‘You’re a good chap, Ned. If things had been different I’d have done the same.’

Ned grinned and the dull flush spread to the tips of his ears. He took his curly-brimmed bowler hat from the table, and put it on at a rakish angle. ‘Let’s just say that Connor ain’t
such a handsome fellow with his two front teeth missing. Maybe he’ll think twice before he ruins another good woman’s reputation. Anyway, I got to get back to the pub.’

‘Tell Ma I’ll come and see her in the morning,’ Clemency said, walking with him to the door. ‘And thanks again, Ned.’ She reached up and kissed his cheek.

If she had slapped him, he could not have looked more startled. He stared down at her for a moment, and then he tipped his hat and hurried out of the dressing room. She could hear his booted footsteps echoing along the narrow passageway. She felt suddenly drained. ‘Let’s get you home, Jack. At least we know that Ma is out of danger now.’ She took Nell’s old cloak from the peg behind the door and went to wrap it around his shoulders.

‘Don’t fuss, Clemmie. You’re as bad as Fancy.’ He snatched the garment from her and laid it across his knees. ‘I ain’t a gouty old colonel, ducks.’

She clipped him playfully round the ear. ‘No, you’re a pain in the neck, Jack Skinner.’ She leaned over and kissed him on the forehead. ‘But I love you, just the same.’ She took the handle of the bath chair, and was pushing him towards the door when it opened and Augustus strode in, followed by Ronnie. She could tell by the expressions on their faces that all was not well.
Her heart sank to her boots. ‘Augustus? What’s wrong?’

‘I’ve just come from Claypole’s office. It seems that the rumour was correct, Clem. He’s engaged the French opera singer, Louise la Croix, to appear in the next production. He wants Jack to stay on in the orchestra, but I’m afraid there is no part for you, my little sparrow.’

‘But he can’t do that. We have a contract.’

Augustus struck his forehead with the palm of his hand. ‘I thought so too, my bird. But there was small print – I confess I did not see the clause that said he could terminate the contract at short notice, should the need arise.’

‘But, Augustus. I’m the star, you said so yourself.’

Ronnie gave her a hug. ‘You are a star, Clem. But it seems that someone has put pressure on Claypole to hire the French woman. Who knows what goes on behind the scenes?’

‘It’s not right.’ Jack thumped his hand down on the arm of the bath chair. ‘Take me to him, Ronnie. I’ll tell him what I think of the bugger. And he knows what he can do with my part in the orchestra. If Clemmie ain’t wanted here, then I’m not staying on.’

‘This is terrible,’ Clemency said, biting back tears. ‘But don’t be hasty, Jack. We can’t both be out of work. I’ve proved myself here, and I’m sure Augustus can find me a part in another
production. There are plenty more theatres, and more trustworthy managers than Claypole. Isn’t that right, Augustus?’

He mopped his brow with a grubby cotton hanky. ‘Of course there are, poppet. Let’s go home to our palace by the river. We’ll treat ourselves to jellied eels, washed down with a bottle of port. Nils desperation, that’s what I always say.’

Diverted, Clemency stared up into his florid face. ‘What does that mean?’

‘It’s Latin, my dear. It means never give up, or words to that effect. We will triumph over adversity.’

Next morning, Clemency awakened stiff and cold after a disturbed night. Despite the fact that it was late spring, hailstones had pelted the roof and windows of the church, echoing round the vaulted ceilings like a fusillade of grapeshot. Every time she dozed into a fitful sleep, she slipped into nightmares where she was being chased by a shadowy figure. Sometimes it was Hardiman, then it was Stone and lastly it was the man they nicknamed the Leather Apron or the Ripper. She never saw their faces, but she could hear their footsteps coming up behind her, and she could feel hot breath on her neck. She woke up with a start, as the noise of the hailstones grew louder. She realised then that the hot breath
on her neck was Fancy’s, who had rolled over in her sleep, cuddling up to her to keep warm. It was bitterly cold in the vestry and the hammering sound was growing louder. It was not hailstones, but some unseen person or persons pounding on the iron-studded door of the church. She shook Fancy awake and then crawled over to where Ronnie and Augustus lay sleeping.

‘Ronnie, wake up. Augustus, there’s someone banging on the door and shouting.’

Slowly, everyone dragged themselves back to consciousness. Ronnie was first to scramble to his feet. Shivering, he reached for his jacket. ‘I’ll go and see who it is.’

He crept out of the vestry in his stockinged feet and Clemency followed him.

‘Open up in the name of the law.’

She clutched his arm. ‘What d’you think they want?’

He shrugged, holding his finger to his lips.

‘Open up, I say, or we’ll break the door down.’

The solid oak timbers shook as if someone had kicked them from outside.

‘Here, sergeant. I don’t think as how we should do that to the house of God.’

‘Mind your own business, constable.’

Another kick on the door was followed by the sound of someone hitting the timbers with a stick.

‘Open up.’

She glanced anxiously at Ronnie. ‘It’s the police. Maybe we should let them in.’

‘I think you’re right.’ He tugged at the heavy iron bolts.

They had to leap for safety as the door flew open and a police sergeant strode into the building with a constable at his heels. ‘You people are trespassing on church property.’ The sergeant glared at them and began to pace about, brandishing his truncheon and peering beneath pews as if he expected to find an army of squatters lurking beneath them.

Ronnie went after him, at a safe distance. ‘We’re not doing any harm, officer. We’ve done no damage.’

The sergeant came to a halt by the spirit stove and the remains of last night’s supper. ‘I could arrest you for desecrating a holy place.’

Clemency stepped forward. ‘Please, sir. We just needed a place to stay. We ain’t done no harm, honest.’

The sergeant looked past her, beckoning the constable. ‘Search the building, Watkins.’

Augustus and Fancy came hurrying from the crypt. Augustus held up his hands. ‘No need, officer. There’s just us and a poor crippled boy. We weren’t aware that we were breaking the law, sir. We just needed a place to stay.’

The sergeant looked him up and down.
Clemency could see that he was impressed by Augustus’s air of authority.

‘Yes,’ Clemency said, buttoning her blouse. ‘You ought to be out chasing villains like Todd Hardiman, not disturbing us innocent folk what was just sheltering from the storm.’

Augustus clamped his hand over her mouth. He cast an ingratiating smile at the sergeant. ‘You’ll have to excuse my daughter, officer. She’s got a mouth on her like the Thames tunnel, but she don’t mean no harm.’

Watkins emerged from the vestry. ‘Looks like they’ve been camping here for some time, sergeant. And there’s a crippled bloke lying on the floor. Give me a mouthful he did when I trod on him by accident. Shall I arrest him?’

‘It ain’t worth the bother of taking them down to the station and filling in the paperwork.’ The sergeant turned to Augustus, pointing his truncheon at him. ‘You seem to be the ringleader, so I’m telling you to clear up your mess and vacate the building by midday. If I come back and find you lot are still here, then I’ll have you up before the beak so quick it’ll make your head spin. Do you understand?’ Without waiting for an answer, he strode out into the street.

The constable followed him, turning to them as he closed the door. ‘He’s a mean bugger to cross. So I’d scarper if I was you.’

The door grated on rusty hinges and it
sounded to Clemency like a groan of pain. They stood in silence, staring at each other in dismay.

‘Don’t stand there like a bunch of waxworks.’ Jack shuffled out of the vestry, dragging his body across the flagstones. ‘Fetch me chair, Fancy, there’s a good girl. It looks like we’re on the move again, don’t it?’

Fancy threw herself down on her knees beside him, flinging her arms around his shoulders and bursting into tears. ‘Oh, Jack. What’ll we do now?’

Ronnie tugged at his moustache. ‘I have to say, things do look bad.’

‘Nils desperation, old fellow.’ Augustus did not sound convinced. He turned to Clemency. ‘I have to admit that I’m at a loss, Clem. We have very little money left, not enough to pay for decent lodgings in a respectable house.’

‘I thought we was saving money by living here.’ Clemency stared at him, puzzled. She had put her trust in Augustus, but now a worm of suspicion crawled into her mind. ‘Jack and me have been earning good money. You was looking after it for us.’

Augustus puffed out his chest and then, meeting her stern gaze, he subsided with a sigh. ‘There have been expenses, Clem. And I agreed a wage for you that was shockingly low, but as you were unknown and untried, I thought it reasonably fair. As to Jack, I had to bargain hard
to get Claypole and the musical director to take him on at all. His place in the orchestra was on a trial basis.’

‘Hold on.’ Jack’s voice cracked with suppressed emotion. ‘D’you mean to tell me that I’ve been working for nothing?’

‘It was a temporary arrangement, Jack. You were gaining experience and expertise, old chap.’

Jack slammed his clenched fists on the wooden arms of the chair. ‘No one works for nothing. You’re a crooked bastard, Throop. How do I know you haven’t spent our hard-earned money on yourself?’

Augustus shook his head. ‘I never did that. I’m sorry, old fellow. I know I haven’t been the most efficient of managers, but Claypole is a hard man, and I’ve learnt from the experience. It won’t happen again.’

‘Too bloody right it won’t,’ Jack said, thumping the table.

‘Fighting amongst ourselves won’t help, Jack,’ Clemency saw that he was spoiling for a fight. ‘There’ll be time enough to talk about money later, when we’ve found ourselves some new digs.’

Augustus held out his hands, palms upwards. ‘I am so sorry, Jack. I should have talked it over with you first, but whatever you think of my actions, without me you would still be playing
your tin whistle on the pavement outside the theatre.’

‘Here, that ain’t fair,’ Fancy said, raising her tearstained face from Jack’s shoulder. ‘Jack’s a brilliant musician.’

‘No one’s denying that, Fancy,’ Clemency said, getting in quickly before Jack had another chance to vent his anger on Augustus. She understood his outrage, but this was not the time or the place to argue the point. ‘We’ll be sleeping on the pavement if we don’t do something pretty quick.’

For once, Augustus seemed at a loss. He cleared his throat with a nervous cough. ‘I can only suggest that we go back to the dear lady in Flower and Dean Street, and beg her to take us back at a reduced rent, until such time as our fortunes change.’

‘You know we can’t do that,’ Jack said angrily. ‘Stone will sell the property over Mrs Blunt’s head, and Hardiman will be after Ma and Clemmie like a hound chasing after a fox.’

‘I’ve only got until the end of the week at the theatre,’ Clemency said, pacing the floor. ‘After that we’ll have to go back to busking on the streets, unless Augustus can get me into another musical play.’

Fancy wiped her nose on the back of her hand and sniffed. ‘You can’t make Jack give up his place in the orchestra. He’s a proper musician
now, even if he don’t get paid a proper wage. And whose fault is that, anyway?’

‘You got a lot to answer for, Augustus,’ Jack said angrily shifting about on the hard stones. ‘Will someone fetch me chair? I’m getting a crick in me neck staring up at all of you.’

‘I’ll go.’ Ronnie hurried off to fetch the chair.

Fancy got to her feet. ‘I’ll get your coat, love. The sooner we get out of here the better.’ With an angry toss of her head, she went into the vestry.

Augustus glanced round with a sigh. ‘I was just getting used to this place too. It’s not exactly the best hotel in town, but I’ve slept in worse.’

Clemency blew on her cold hands. ‘So, we got no money and nowhere to sleep. That’s it in a nutshell.’

Augustus slumped down on a pew. ‘I’m afraid that’s true. And I must take some of the blame.’

Clemency said nothing. There was no point in making things worse than they were now. She looked round as Ronnie trundled the bath chair down the aisle, and she gave him a grateful smile. Dear Ronnie, with his funny little ways, who never made a fuss, and was always willing to give a helping hand. Why, she wondered, was it so easy to overlook someone like him? It was a pity there weren’t more men like him in the world. There were plenty of villains, like Hardiman and Stone.

‘Here you are, old fellow,’ Ronnie said, coming
to a halt by Jack’s side. ‘Let’s get you in your chariot.’

‘Never mind humouring me,’ Jack said sulkily. ‘I ain’t a baby.’

Fancy hurried out of the vestry, carrying Jack’s coat. She wrapped it around his shoulders. ‘Who said you’re a baby? I’ll scratch their eyes out.’

‘No, really, I never said that.’ Ronnie backed away, eyeing her warily as if he feared that she might carry out her threat.