The Cockney Sparrow (7 page)

In the distance, Clemency counted the strokes of a church clock – one, two, three, four, five – Ned brought the handcart to a halt. He was not alone and Clemency’s spine tingled with apprehension, but he grasped her hand and was speaking to her in the soothing tones that he might have used to calm a nervous horse. ‘Don’t be scared. Connor is a mate. This is his barrow, and he’s come to help.’

In the darkness, she could just make out the shape of a short, stocky man. He bowed from the waist, his jerky action putting Clemency in mind of a shadow puppet she had once seen in a booth at a fair, and she had to stifle the sudden urge to giggle. She wiped her sweating palms on her skirt and held out her hand to Connor. ‘Pleased to meet you, I’m sure.’ To her surprise, he raised her hand to his lips and brushed it with a kiss.

‘’Tis a pleasure to help a lady in distress.’

‘Don’t take no notice of him,’ Ned said, following Clemency as she felt her way down the steps. ‘He can’t help flirting with the ladies – he’s Irish.’

‘I’m grateful to you both. Mind the bottom step, it’s a bit rotten.’

Ned jumped the last step but Connor did not seem to have heard and he landed with a dull thud and a muffled curse. Clemency turned to
them as she opened the door. ‘You might have a bit of difficulty with Ma. She’s not quite herself.’

They followed her into the room where Edith lay slumped on her straw palliasse. Clemency felt a moment of embarrassment mingled with shame, but Connor went straight to Edith and hefted her over his shoulder. ‘Ah so, isn’t this a woman after me own heart? And haven’t we all had a drop too much every now and then. I’ll make her comfortable on me barrow.’

‘Let’s hope she don’t object to the smell of fish. Connor is on his way to pick up his daily load of haddock and herrings from Billingsgate.’ Ned winked at Clemency and then he turned to Jack, holding out his hand. ‘How do, Jack. I’m Ned.’

Clemency held her breath, watching Jack’s face. She crossed her fingers behind her back, praying that he would not take one of his sudden dislikes to Ned, and refuse all offers of help. Jack was stubborn when it came to his disability: she knew he would rather crawl along on his knuckles than allow himself to be carried like a helpless child. She could have cried with relief when his taut features relaxed into something like a smile and he shook Ned’s hand. ‘We must leave now, Jack,’ she said urgently.

‘You’d be surprised how quick I can move when needs be,’ Jack said, casting a challenging look at Ned as he hauled his body across the flagstones.

Ned stood back, nodding. ‘Just speak out if you needs a hand, old chap.’

Clemency picked up the bundle that contained their few possessions and she smiled at Ned, mutely thanking him for understanding Jack’s need to prove his independence. If he was shocked to see Jack walking on his knuckles, relying on the strength he had developed in his shoulders to keep his buttocks from scraping the ground, then he concealed it well. When Jack stopped at the bottom of the steps, Ned stepped forward, hooked his arm over his shoulders, and carried him to the waiting cart. It was done without fuss or pity, and Ned hoisted Jack up beside Edith, who was curled up like a sleeping infant where Connor had laid her on the barrow.

‘Where to?’ Ned whispered.

‘Spitalfields. Flower and Dean Street. I dunno where it is exactly.’

‘It’s off the Commercial Road, miss,’ Connor said. ‘I know it well. Didn’t I have a pretty young thing that was mad with love for me, living in Frying Pan Alley, not a stone’s throw from the street you mention?’

‘On we go then, mate.’ Ned grabbed one of the handles. ‘Let’s get away from here while the streets are quiet.’

‘I’m so grateful to you,’ Clemency said softly, as she walked by his side. ‘You done us a big favour and I’ll never forget it.’

‘Anyone would do the same for a lady in distress.’

A lady! She’d never been called a lady before and it sent a warm glow coursing through Clemency’s veins. She quickened her step to keep pace with their long strides; even though it was still a dank predawn, she felt her spirits rise.

It was still dark when they trundled the handcart past the Bank of England in Threadneedle Street, but the City was slowly stirring into life. Street sweepers were out in full force, clearing the horse dung from the cobblestones, and a battalion of cleaning women armed with mops and buckets were bustling in and out of the banks and office buildings, scrubbing steps and polishing brass door furniture. Liveried doormen and messengers were arriving at their places of business, and postmen had already begun delivering the early morning mail. Clemency would have been glad to stop for a rest, but Connor and Ned wanted to push on, and she could not argue with that. Putting as much distance as possible between them and Hardiman had been her aim, and they were hardly inconspicuous as they pushed a barrow containing a semi-conscious woman and a young man with withered limbs through the city streets. If Hardiman had put out the word, then his minions would be on the lookout for them.
Soon the streets would be filled with people and clogged with horse-drawn vehicles: they must keep moving.

They were nearing Liverpool Street Station when Edith began to moan and thrash about; Jack had to hold her down or she would have toppled onto the ground. Connor steered the barrow into a side street where a refreshment stall, lit by bright naphtha flares, was selling hot tea and bacon sandwiches. The aroma of frying bacon made Clemency’s mouth water and her stomach rumbled.

‘I don’t know about you good folk,’ Connor said, pushing his cap to the back of his head, ‘but I’m famished.’

Clemency exchanged worried glances with Jack. She fingered the florin in her pocket, but that was earmarked for their board and lodging. She shook her head. ‘You go ahead and get something. We’re all right, ain’t we, Jack.’

Jack nodded. ‘We’ll eat later.’

Ned gave them a straight look and then he went up to the counter. ‘Five teas, please, mister. And five bacon sandwiches.’

‘No, really,’ Clemency protested.

‘Sure, you look as though you need feeding up, young miss,’ Connor said, winking. ‘It’s Ned’s job in life to see that people get fed, so don’t you go spoiling his day.’

Before Clemency could answer, Edith raised
herself up on her elbow. ‘Where are we? I could murder a drop of gin.’

‘A cup of tea will do you more good, Ma,’ Jack said, placing his arm around her shoulders. ‘And something to eat.’

‘Look at me, Jack. I’m shaking all over. Nothing but a drop of tiddley will stop the shakes.’

Ned came over to them carrying two thick china mugs filled with tea. He handed one to Clemency and the other to Jack. ‘Is she all right?’

‘Young man, for the love of God, get me a drink.’ Edith held her hands out to him, her face crumpled like a wet rag.

Clemency tried to give her the mug of tea, but Edith knocked it from her hand with a loud screech that was not quite drowned by the thunder of a steam engine as it roared out of the station. The mug shattered into shards on the pavement, and hot tea trickled into the gutter. She stared at it in horror – now Ned would have to pay for the breakage – and passers-by were staring at the madwoman struggling to get off the handcart.

Connor stepped forward and lifted Edith up as easily as if she had been a toddler. ‘Now, missis. Don’t take on. Connor will sort you out.’ Supporting her with his arm around her waist, he turned to Clemency and Jack. ‘It’s a drop of the hard stuff she needs. Leave it to me.’ Without
waiting for an answer, he helped Edith across the street and they disappeared through a pub door.

Clemency glanced anxiously at Ned. ‘She’s not always like this. It’s the move upsetting her.’

Jack pulled a face. ‘Don’t, Clemmie. He can see she’s a hopeless case, and so can Connor.’

‘It happens. I see it every day.’

‘You’re a good fellow, Ned,’ Jack said. ‘I can’t thank you enough for what you’re doing for me and Clemmie.’

Ned blushed to the roots of his mouse-brown hair. ‘Think nothing of it. I’m glad to help.’

Clemency’s heart swelled with gratitude and she threw her arms around his neck, kissing him on the cheek. ‘You’ve saved our lives and I’ll never ever forget it.’

She felt a tremor run through him, and there was a startled look in his eyes that was replaced almost instantly with puzzlement; he was staring at her as if he had seen her for the first time. She pulled away, wondering if she had offended him somehow.

‘Three teas and five bacon sandwiches.’ The vendor’s voice boomed out from the stall.

Ned jumped visibly, and he strode off to collect the food.

‘What’s wrong with him?’ Clemency turned to Jack for an explanation. ‘What did I do to upset him?’

When Jack merely shrugged his shoulders, Clemency was even more baffled. She did not pursue the topic as Ned was making his way back to them with the tea and sandwiches. She went to help him, and was relieved when he smiled at her. She decided that she must have been imagining things, and sank her teeth into the twin doorsteps of bread that encased two rashers of crisp bacon. She chewed, savoured and swallowed; this was food heaven. Surely the old queen herself could not have enjoyed a more delicious breakfast? She sat down on the pavement, resting her back against the cold brick wall behind her, and in between mouthfuls of the sandwich, she sipped the hot, sweet tea. Those leaves were freshly brewed, if she was not mistaken. She glanced up at Jack, seated like a king on the cart, and she could tell from his expression that he too was enjoying every mouthful.

When every last crumb was eaten and she had drained the mug of tea, she licked her fingers and wiped them on her skirt. She jumped to her feet
as her flagging energy was revived by a full stomach. She could conquer the world after a breakfast like that. Connor and Edith had emerged from the pub and were crossing the street arm in arm. To her surprise, Clemency saw that Ma was laughing at something that he had said and, if she was not actually walking straight, she was not staggering like a drunken crab. Connor lifted her onto the barrow next to Jack. It seemed to Clemency, in that moment, that a miracle had happened. There were spots of colour in Ma’s cheeks and her eyes sparkled. She was laughing and the careworn lines on her face seemed to have been erased. She looked ten years younger, and almost pretty.

‘That was fine fun,’ Connor said, biting a chunk from his sandwich. ‘But we must get on or I’ll not get me day’s stock of fresh fish from the market.’

Dawn was just breaking when they finally arrived in Flower and Dean Street. The sky above Brick Lane had faded from ash-grey to the delicate blue-green of a duck egg, and particles of frost glittered on the paving stones. The street was quiet in contrast to the early morning bustle of the Commercial Road, but Clemency knew they were dangerously close to Hanbury Street, where Jack the Ripper had attacked, killed and mutilated the prostitute, Annie Chapman. That terrible crime had happened just a few months
ago, in September, and there had been two more murders in the same month; one in Berner Street and the other in Mitre Square. They were in Ripper territory and Clemency couldn’t help looking over her shoulder, half afraid that the shadowy figure was going to leap out from a doorway, or suddenly appear at the top of an area steps.

‘This looks like it. Number twenty-one, wasn’t it, Clemency?’ Ned looked up at a tall, narrow house in the middle of the grim, smoke-blackened terrace. ‘This ain’t much of a place, if you ask me.’

‘It’s the address he give me,’ Clemency said, trying to sound positive, when all she really wanted to do was run away. She could not help wondering whether she had done the right thing in coming here. Flower and Dean Street, Spitalfields. It had sounded wonderful when she had spelt out the address on Throop’s card, and in her mind’s eye she had pictured a country field spiked with scarlet poppies and white daisies, but the reality was starkly different. If the financial heart of the City was getting ready to begin a new day’s trading, it was just the opposite here, where it was still the depth of night. At intervals along the street there were bodies slumped in doorways, either dead or sleeping, no one seemed to care which. Feral cats were out hunting the rats that scavenged
amongst the heaps of rotting rubbish. A little way down the street, women who were probably no better than they should be were staggering up the steps into cheap lodging houses, looking very much the worse for wear. This was indeed a terrible place, but she would not let Ned or Jack see how it depressed her. She managed a smile. ‘I’m sure Mr Throop wouldn’t have chosen to live here if the house weren’t clean and respectable.’

‘Sure, I’ve been in worse places,’ Connor said, helping Edith from the handcart.

‘I don’t like leaving you here.’ Ned laid his hand on Clemency’s arm, his face puckered with concern. ‘If I’d realised it was so close to Hanbury Street, where the Ripper done in that Chapman woman, I’d never have agreed to bring you here.’

Edith gave a low moan. ‘What have you brought us to, Clemmie? We’d be better off with Hardiman than the Ripper.’

‘The police will catch them both,’ Jack said stoutly, working his way to the edge of the cart. ‘They ain’t got nothing on Hardiman yet, but it’s only a matter of time afore the mad bugger beats some poor woman’s brains out.’

‘Jack’s right, Ma,’ Clemency said, making an effort to sound cheerful. ‘We’re here now, so let’s make the best of it.’ She turned to Ned and Connor. ‘I dunno what else to say but ta, ever so.’

Ned shifted from one foot to the other, a dull flush rising from his neck to his cheeks. ‘I ain’t sure we’ve done you a favour, bringing you to this place.’

‘Don’t worry about us. We’ll be fine.’ Clemency shook his hand, not wanting to embarrass him with a kiss. She held her hand out to Connor. ‘I won’t forget what you done for us, Mr Connor.’

‘Nor I,’ Edith said, slanting a look at him beneath her eyelashes.

Connor took off his cap and held it to his chest. ‘It’s Michael, so it is. Mickey to me friends. I’ll be off now, but don’t be surprised to see me turn up again one of these days, Edie.’