The Pearly Queen (10 page)

Yelling, and eager with a desire to dispossess, women rushed in on the Repenters.

‘Father Peter!' cried Mother Mary, aghast as the minister sank to his knees and prayed, leaving her unshielded. The other ladies shrieked. Father Luke pedalled backwards in the direction of Whitechapel's parish church and fell over the barrow. Clawing hands reached for his trousers. Mother Joan struck out with her banner. Mother Ruth dropped hers and did all she could to protect her hat and dress. Mother Verity blushed crimson as covetous hands lifted her skirt and pulled on it.

‘Oh, help!' she gasped.

‘Oh, what 'eathens!' cried Mother Mary, and smote with her banner.

‘Bloody female hooligans, I call 'em,' declared Mother Joan. ‘Forgive me, Lord,' she added, and knocked two slatterns off their feet with her banner.

Strong hands delivered Mother Verity from her tormentors, pulling her free from the mêlée and swinging her off her feet to safety. The tall man, in a cap, blue jersey and khaki trousers, gave her a chuckling smile of pleasure. ‘Well, if you ain't me sweetheart of yesterday,' he said.

‘Help!' gasped Mother Verity.

‘Lord, hear thy servant,' intoned Father Peter.

‘Hear me, Lord,' gasped Mother Verity, for her deliverer had his eyes on her lips.

‘Come back for more, is that a fact?' said the tall man, his rugged masculinity dreadfully menacing. ‘Well, you're a sweet surprise and a pretty one.' He wrapped his arms around her. Her banner was gone, her purity defenceless. He kissed her, unmercifully. She flushed and shuddered.

Mother Mary's umbrage was total. She was surrounded by harridans, all of them intent on wresting her costume from her.

‘Oh, you wicked women, I'll give you something – oh, if I only 'ad me umbrella. Leave go, d'you 'ear? Oh, I never did know more disgustin' sinning – take that – leave go – oh, dear Lord, I can't 'ardly believe this.'

Mother Verity, dreadfully beset, nevertheless offered the other cheek, and the laughing man kissed her again, such was his indifference to the Lord and his affinity with Satan. She tried to swoon, feeling she must, but nothing happened, except another kiss, and strange dreadful weakness.

Mother Joan was dealing blow after blow. Mother Ruth was clinging on to everything she was wearing. The clawing, pulling and milling were accompanied by shrieks of fiendish laughter. Father Luke had lost his trousers. Father Peter, losing his top hat to a whisking hand, leapt up from his knees and raised both arms to the heavens. His black cloak lifted and spread, and he looked like a dark avenging bird of prey, his great mane of black hair peppered with grey. Thunder rolled up from his chest, and lightning flashes glittered in his eyes. With a roar, he turned on the harridans and flew at them, and the harridans were beset with physical chastisement.

Watching men howled with laughter. On the other hand, one man said to another, ‘Gawd bleedin' blimey, Curly, 'e's beltin' yer missus black an' blue.'

‘I'd 'elp 'er, only I got a bone in me leg,' said Curly, bald as a peeled potato, ‘an' besides, she's been beltin' me for a month.'

Poor Mother Verity, dreadfully flushed and dreadfully outraged, looked up into the face of her smiling tormentor. ‘Do your worst, sir, I shall still pray to God to forgive you.' He roared with laughter.

Kids came running from the junction with Commercial Road. ‘Rozzers! Flatties!'

Magically, the crowd melted away. The harridans retreated and ran, disappearing into their houses, kids pelting after them. The smiling man strolled away from Mother Verity and entered a house a little farther down the street.

Father Peter's thunder subsided and his heaving chest took a turn for the better. Father Luke, minus his trousers and top hat, staggered to his feet, his long woollen pants dusty and wrinkled. Mother Mary pulled her skirt up from around her ankles. Mother Ruth pushed her dress down. Mother Joan looked down at herself. Her white silk petticoat shimmered.

‘Mother Joan, heavens above!' exclaimed Father Peter.

‘Hell below, if you ask me, Father,' said Mother Joan. ‘Lost my bloody skirt. Can't be helped, small price to pay in the service of the Lord, and I fancy I landed a few telling blows on His behalf.'

‘She was 'eroic, Father,' said Mother Mary, ‘and so were you, you rose up and smote the 'eathens something godly.'

‘The chastisement of the wicked is in our hands through the Lord,' said Father Peter.

‘Oh, dear, but poor Father Luke, to have lost his trousers,' said Mother Ruth.

‘I grant yer, Mother Ruth, I ain't far short of feelin' uncomfortable about it,' said Father Luke. ‘I've also got a hurtful bump on me head. But I'm bearin' in mind the sufferin' need these poor people 'ave for someone else's trousers an' Mother Joan's skirt. Lord above, where've they all gone to?'

The street on either side of the group was empty, except for a few kids. At the junction with Commercial Road stood two uniformed constables, surveying Christian Street and its suspicious air of quiet. Mother Verity rejoined her sister Repenters.

‘You saw?' she said. ‘What can I say?'

‘We all suffered for you, sister,' said Father Peter compassionately.

‘I was a bit ' arassed myself,' said Father Luke, ‘but the glimpse I 'ad of your ordeal, Mother Verity, told me I was gettin' off light. Father Peter, we've got wickedness goin' on here all right. The Lord's mercy'll be 'ard for this lot to come by.'

‘I've never seen such dreadful be'aviour,' said Mother Mary, ‘and after yesterday too. Who'd 'ave thought Mother Verity would suffer again?'

‘Scoundrel ought to be horse-whipped,' said Mother Joan.

‘Vengeance shall be mine, said the Lord,' boomed Father Peter.

The uniformed constables were still surveying the street, and this gave Mother Verity the courage to say, ‘Father Peter, something must be done for Father Luke and Mother Joan. They can't possibly return to Bloomsbury as they are. I will go and demand the return of their lost garments.'

‘Shall our own Daniel enter the lions' den?' asked Father Peter.

‘I'd go meself,' said Father Luke, ‘only I don't feel properly dressed for the part.'

‘I shall be quite happy to go,' said Mother Verity.

‘I will stay and comfort our flock,' said Father Peter.

‘I'll go with Mother Verity,' said Mother Mary. ‘It's me Christian duty as 'er sister.'

‘How kind,' said Mother Verity. She drew her breath, squared her shoulders, and with Mother Mary she crossed the street and knocked on the open door of a certain house. An urchin girl appeared.

‘What d'yer want, missus?' she asked.

‘Please see if the gentleman in a blue jersey and khaki trousers will come to the door,' said Mother Verity bravely.

‘Oh, not him 'imself,' breathed Mother Mary, ‘he'll drag you Lord knows where and – oh, think of what 'e might do, sister.'

‘No, the policemen are at the top of the street, sister,' said Mother Verity. She looked at the urchin girl. ‘Is the gentleman here, my child?'

‘No, 'e ain't, we don't 'ave no gents livin' round 'ere.'

‘Hullo, hullo,' said a welcoming voice, and the smiling man appeared. ‘Well, if it's not me own sweet lady love again.'

‘I beg you, sir, not to be importunate, but to consider penitence and the Lord's forgiveness,' said Mother Verity. ‘I am here to ask if you'll be kind enough to arrange for a lady's skirt and a gentleman's trousers to be returned. I shall be happy to give you sixpence for them.'

‘Well, that's generous, love, I won't deny it. All of a tanner?'

‘If you'd be so kind, sir.'

‘You're a funny one, missus,' said the man, Will Fletcher. But the light in his eyes was scathing.

‘Miss, sir.'

‘All one to me,' he said, and Mother Mary thought his smile had something cynical about it. ‘All right, wait 'ere.' Off he went, up the street, taking no notice of the watching constables. He turned into a house. He was back quite soon, carrying the trousers and skirt. He handed them over, his blue eyes regarding Mother Verity in curiosity.

‘That's very kind of you, sir—'

‘I'm not sir, I'm Will Fletcher.'

‘Mr Fletcher, you are fully forgiven,' said Mother Verity.

‘Am I? What for?'

‘Your brutality.'

He laughed out loud. ‘Give the tanner to Lulu,' he said, and the urchin girl put out an eager grubby hand. Mother Mary held the garments while Mother Verity opened her handbag and fished for her purse. She fished deeper. She looked at Will Fletcher. His expression was blank.

‘My purse has gone,' she said.

‘Well, ruddy 'ard luck,' he said.

‘Oh,' said Mother Mary, and examined her own handbag. ‘Oh, what disgustin' thievin,' she exclaimed. ‘I'm goin' to complain to them policemen.'

‘Help yerself,' said Will Fletcher, ‘but what about Lulu's tanner?'

‘Don't go to the policemen, sister,' said Mother Verity, ‘go and ask Mother Joan or Father Peter for sixpence. The Lord expects forgiveness of us, we must put aside any bitterness.'

‘All I'd got was in me purse,' said Mother Mary, but Mother Verity was right, it wasn't Christian to complain to the law.

Since Mother Joan and Mother Ruth had had their purses lifted too, Father Peter supplied the necessary sixpence. Mother Mary returned to the house with it and gave it to Mother Verity. She handed it to the child, whose fingers closed avidly over it. Will Fletcher looked on silently.

‘Is she your daughter, Mr Fletcher?' asked Mother Verity.

‘Mine?' He laughed again. ‘That she's not. What would I do with daughters or sons, or even a wife, in a place like this? Would I even be 'ere if I had a job? Be your age, lady, or you'll blow me happy memories of you through the ruddy sky. And take my tip, don't come round again. Me kindly neighbours had games with you yesterday, and more games today. Next time—'

‘Games?' said Mother Mary. ‘I'll 'ave you know it was sinful outrage, and all our purses thieved off us as well. Shameful, that's what it was, shameful.'

‘Me heart bleeds for yer, missus,' he said. ‘And watch out if there's a next time. Next time me kindly neighbours might just turn unfriendly.'

‘Sticks and stones may break my bones—'

‘Hoppit, lady,' he said. He smiled at Mother Verity. ‘You too, sweetheart. I'll say this much, you're a reg'lar good-looker, even if you are a bit barmy. Here, take a goodbye one for real luck.' And he put his hand under Mother Verity's chin, lifted her face and kissed her. Mother Verity trembled dreadfully. Mother Mary had never seen a more disgraceful kiss, considering how pure Mother Verity was. It was right on her mouth and really shocking. Any other woman would have fainted, but Mother Verity was so brave in enduring it. Her mouth was parted in awful shock when he released her.

‘What a disgustin' abomination,' said Mother Mary, terribly shocked herself. ‘You won't ever get to the kingdom of 'eaven, you brute.'

He laughed again. ‘It's hell for me, is it?' he said. ‘Well, I'm used to hell.'

Deeply flushed, Mother Verity said, ‘I beg you not to speak like that, salvation is denied to no-one. Again I forgive you. And I shall pray for you.'

Sarcastic laughter followed her as she left with Mother Mary and rejoined the other Repenters. Gratefully, Father Luke restored his rescued trousers to his legs, and with a hearty flourish, Mother Joan pulled on her retrieved skirt.

‘Can't blame 'em, I suppose,' she said, ‘the Devil's got 'em in his pocket.'

We shall come again,' declared Father Peter with an awesome glitter of lightning. ‘We must. Never have I known people more in need of salvation.'

‘That's the stuff, Father,' said Mother Joan. ‘By George, sisters, there's the Lord's real work to do here. Never seen such pagan blighters, every last one of 'em needs a lick of fire and brimstone. Not their fault, though. Conditions, you know. A large daily feed of oats and some decent raiment would help to convert 'em.'

‘Alas, my funds have some limitations,' said Father Peter.

‘Well, we'll get some more,' said Mother Joan. ‘I'll pop home to Berkshire and pick up some cheques from my husband.'

‘Oh, will he make donations?' asked Mother Ruth, who felt that everything she was wearing needed adjusting.

‘I shan't bother about that,' said Mother Joan, ‘I'll snaffle some blank cheques and write them out myself, and forge the blighter's signature.'

‘Oh, I don't like to 'ear you sayin' things like that,' said Mother Mary.

‘Practise truth and honesty in all things, sister,' said Father Peter, placing a gentle hand of reproval on Mother Joan's fine shoulder.

‘All in a good cause, Father,' said Mother Joan, ‘all in the name of the Lord.'

‘Praise 'Im,' said Father Luke.

‘But forgery,' said Mother Ruth uncertainly.

‘The Lord will forgive,' said Father Luke. ‘'E's got a noble and understandin' 'eart.'

‘Let us return to our temple,' said Father Peter.

‘Lead us, Father Peter,' said Mother Mary, thinking she had found her true way in life.

‘Yes, lead us, Father,' said Mother Ruth, thinking how magnificent he had been in his chastisement of the harridans, who would surely have ripped her every garment off if he had not risen up in his might.

‘I'm right behind yer, sisters,' said Father Luke, feeling much holier now that he had his trousers back on.

‘Onward, Christian soldiers,' intoned Father Peter, and led the march back to Bloomsbury, Father Luke bringing up the rear with the empty barrow.

They marched with their banners high and bravely fluttering, Mother Verity thinking something must be done to convert a man whose laughter was false and whose smile hid a bitter soul.