The Pearly Queen (19 page)

‘I believe most of all in helping the suffering,' said Mother Verity, a little flush on her face because his blue eyes seemed so cynical and searching. ‘Mr Fletcher, may I ask if you served in the war?'

‘It shows, does it?'

‘Yes, Mr Fletcher, it does, and I think one of the reasons why it shows so bitterly is because the country has already forgotten you, and hasn't even bothered to reward you with a job. Is that so, Mr Fletcher?'

‘Well, hell an' the devil,' said Will Fletcher, ‘you're speechifyin' me.'

‘I am only trying to say I understand.'

‘After what I did to you in front of all those people?' he said.

‘That is forgotten and forgiven,' she said, although it was not forgotten.

‘You're a funny woman.'

‘I should like to talk to you sometimes about the consolation the Lord can bring to all of us,' she said.

‘Oh, my achin' ribs,' said Will Fletcher, and laughed. Lulu, finding the laughter infectious, giggled. ‘You're on a hidin' to nothing there, lady.'

‘I am Miss Celia Stokes.'

‘Well, good for you, Miss Celia Stokes, but do me a favour an' don't come round offerin' me the Lord's consolation. Say goodbye, Lulu lovey.'

‘Goo'bye,' said Lulu.

‘I wish yer well,' said Will Fletcher, and off he went, Lulu joggling in his arms.

Mother Mary arrived. ‘That was that disgustin' brute,' she said. ‘Oh, you poor thing, sister, I was sure 'e was goin' to be outrageous again, but I 'ad me umbrella ready.'

‘He's a man who needs help, sister.'

‘I'll give 'im help,' said Mother Mary. ‘Still, I suppose the Lord does expect us to do what we can even for him.'

‘I'm sure He does, sister. Come along, let's catch the others up.'

They renewed contact at a moment when two men, one short and thin, one large and thickset, approached in a talkative vein. The large man suddenly veered, shouldering Father Luke and Mother Ruth aside. The short man darted and made a lightning grab at Mother Joan's handbag, who was being momentarily isolated. Father Luke, outraged at finding himself sprawling on the pavement, jumped up.

‘'Old on, sister, 'old on, I'll go an' find a copper!' And off he went, as fast as his plump legs would carry him.

Mother Joan struggled to retain her handbag.

‘The very idea! You scoundrel! Let go!' The strap of the handbag was slipping down her left arm, she clutching the bag itself with her right hand.

‘Give it 'ere, yer fat old cow!' hissed the thief.

Mother Mary sprang into action. She dealt the sinful villain a punitive blow over his capped head. Her umbrella shivered and descended again. The large man went for her. She stopped him by ramming the point of the brolly into his breadbasket. People in the street looked, walked on and did nothing. A shopkeeper, standing at his open door, retreated to the interior. A woman, entering Isaac's, informed the proprietor that a robbery was taking place, at which Isaac deplored what the world was coming to and asked for the happiness of serving her.

Mother Mary laid about her. Mother Joan held on. The short man took a fearful bash on his head. The large man made another rush. Mother Verity, praying to the Lord to forgive her, put out a foot and tripped him up.

‘Oh, dear,' breathed Mother Ruth as he crashed.

The short man ran off then. The large man, bruised and winded, got up and followed him, swearing his head off. Will Fletcher arrived, little Lulu coming at a scamper from some way down the street. Mother Mary, seeing the man who'd assaulted Mother Verity with disgusting kisses, thought she might as well set about him too. It was a good opportunity, and her mood was right. Down came the umbrella. Will Fletcher took the blow on a raised arm.

‘Leave off, will yer?' he said. ‘Didn't I tell yer not to come this way again?'

‘None of that, my man,' said Mother Joan. ‘The Lord is our guide and protector.'

‘Some protector,' said Will Fletcher, and took a look at people who had stopped now that there wasn't anything to bear witness to. ‘Hoppit,' he said, and they moved off. ‘I'll 'and it to this lady, she clouted a sight harder on your account than the Lord.'

‘That's the Lord's sword she wields,' said Mother Joan.

‘Well, take it back 'ome, and her with it. 'Ave you got money in that 'andbag of yours? I mean real money, seein' you were the one they went for.'

‘Well, bless my soul,' said Mother Joan, ‘what a quarrelsome chap you are.'

‘That means you've got money. Where're you goin' with it?'

‘To the London Underground station.'

Lulu pushed in. Will Fletcher took hold of her hand. ‘All right, ladies, I'll walk you to the station,' he said.

‘Hope we can trust you,' said Mother Mary.

‘Thank you, Mr Fletcher,' said Mother Verity.

‘Well, go on, then,' said Will Fletcher curtly. ‘I'll follow.'

They walked to the station. Father Luke made a reappearance.

‘Me 'eart's bleedin',' he said. ‘I've been all over an' not seen a single copper.'

‘Never mind, Father Luke,' said Mother Ruth. ‘It was good of you to go looking. We're quite all right, and the misguided gentlemen ran off in the end. Mother Joan still has her handbag.'

‘The Lord be praised,' said Father Luke, taking his top hat off and wiping his brow.

Will Fletcher parted from them at the Underground station. Mother Verity begged him to allow her to give Lulu another sixpence.

‘That's it, lady, chuck your Christianity about,' he said. Mother Verity winced. ‘All right, sorry, give Lulu the sixpence, then. She's not proud, and nor am I, am I?'

‘You are very proud, Mr Fletcher, but the child likes you, obviously so, and accordingly there's hope for you.'

He laughed. She gave the girl a sixpence, and this time Lulu thanked her. Will Fletcher was still laughing as he went off with the girl trotting beside him.

Aunt Edie, home from her work, let herself into her flat. For the first time ever its silence displeased her. There was not a sound. Even the noise of Camberwell traffic did not penetrate. She had come home to four walls and nothing else. For three days she had lived amid the sounds of a small child, a growing girl and a growing boy, in a house that was alive, not only with them but her cousin Maud's husband. That woman, some Christian. How could any woman walk out on dear little Betsy, darling Patsy and that endearing boy Jimmy? What did it mean, her feeling of flatness? It meant she could hardly wait for next weekend. But suppose Maud was back?

‘I'll knock her head off,' said Aunt Edie out loud.

She went out later to the pub. She did not often go to a pub on her own unless it was to meet someone. Joe Gosling was there.

‘Well, Edie me old love, sit down. What would yer like, a drop of Guinness?'

‘I'm not your old love, but yes, I'd like a small Guinness.'

He got her one and sat down beside her. ‘Yer a fine figure of a woman, yer know, Edie.'

‘Eyes off,' said Aunt Edie.

‘Me? Eyes orf what?'

‘What's mine, what's private.'

‘I'll grant yer it's yer very own, Edie, but I put it to yer, ain't it been private a bit long? Bein' a widower and eligible accordin', I take it on meself to suggest it just ain't sociable to keep a fine figure like yourn all to yerself all yer life.'

‘Let go of my knee,' said Aunt Edie.

‘Eh? Well, I'm blowed, that 'and o' mine just slipped under the table, like. It must've known something.'

‘Yes, it knew my knee was there.'

‘Like you say, Edie, so it did. 'ave yer thought any more about you and me bein' pearly partners?'

‘I've thought about that concert. All right, Joe, I'll do a turn, and I'll bring a young man to do a couple of duets with me.'

‘Yer a sport, love, yer me 'eart's delight. Drink up, and I'll treat you to another.'

‘You won't,' said Aunt Edie. ‘I'm not that kind of drinker.'

‘Just as yer like. 'Oo's this young man?'

‘My nephew Jimmy.'

‘Oh, 'im that was ridin' on me cart with you last week. Lively lad, that one.'

‘Yes,' said Aunt Edie, and wondered how Jimmy had got on helping Mr Gibbs today.

Jimmy was home a little late. He'd worked past his time and Mr Gibbs had said carry on if you want to, stop when you've done enough, and I'll pay you daily, sixpence an hour, and that includes time for breaks. You've got to have breaks, lad.

Jimmy had enjoyed the work. Sophy had remained absent after being hauled off by her mother. That left him free to get on with things. Not that he didn't like her. You couldn't not like a girl as pretty as she was. But she was a wild one all right, you couldn't tell where the next fateful happening might come from, or when. And besides, she was rich. Jimmy wasn't without sense, he knew she simply wanted to make use of him for playing games.

He told his dad and sisters about his day, about the acres of jungle, high enough and thick enough to get lost in, and that his job was to clear littered ground and build bonfires.

‘Did you see her?' asked Patsy.

‘Sophy, you mean?' said Jimmy.

‘Did you see her?' Patsy was more interested in relationships than jungles.

‘I saw her this mornin'. She got 'erself into a mess and 'er mum gave her a rollickin' and took her indoors.'

‘Bit of a tomboy, is she?' asked Dad.

‘Well, a bit dangerous to human life, I suppose,' said Jimmy.

‘Crikey,' breathed Betsy, ‘like cannibals?'

‘Patsy, did you go and call on some of the firms I listed, and ask if there were any jobs goin'?' Jimmy had his future on his mind.

‘Yes, I did, I walked me and Betsy off our feet,' said Patsy, ‘and there wasn't one job goin'. I ain't doin' it any more.'

‘Nor me,' said Betsy. ‘I nearly wore me boots out, an' me feet as well, didn't I, Dad?'

‘Hard luck, me pickle,' said Dad, ‘but all in a good cause.'

‘Well, look,' said Jimmy, ‘Mr Gibbs paid me for today, five bob because I worked on. Here's sixpence each for you an' Betsy, even if you didn't come up with any prospects, and if you do go again, I'll give you sixpence each again, out of me wages as a woodland worker.'

‘Oh, Jimmy, thanks ever so,' said Patsy, and Betsy goggled at a whole shining tanner. ‘Sixpence is doin' us proud. We don't mind goin' again and askin', do we, Betsy?'

‘I wish Dad could get me some new feet,' said Betsy.

‘What's a woodland worker?' asked Patsy.

‘A young bloke that clears up the sawdust,' said Dad with a grin.

‘I wish Aunt Edie was 'ere,' said Betsy, ‘'cos I don't fink Mum's comin' 'ome a lot, do you, Dad?'

‘Give 'er time, Betsy love,' said Dad. If he and his kids were coming to terms with Mother's absence, there were still moments when emotions showed.

‘Hullo,' said Ada the next morning.

‘Hullo,' said Jimmy.

‘You've come again, then,' said Ada.

‘Yes, and I've arrived as well,' said Jimmy.

‘Cheeky again,' said Ada.

‘Not much, though,' said Jimmy.

‘Kindly step in,' said Ada, and Jimmy entered. She looked up at him. He was only six months older than she was, but inches taller. He wore a solemn expression, but it wasn't in his eyes. There was a joker in his eyes, she could tell. ‘You're laughin' at me,' she said.

‘Me?' said Jimmy.

‘I'm important in this 'ouse, I'll have you know,' said Ada.

‘All right, I'll call you Lady Ada,' said Jimmy.

‘I knew it, you are cheeky. Kindly follow me.' Ada took him through to the kitchen, where the staff were finishing their breakfast.

‘Well, look 'oo's 'ere,' said Ivy, ‘'e's still alive.'

‘Good morning, my boy,' said Mr Hodges.

‘Morning, Mr Hodges.'

‘Like a nice cup of tea and a slice of toast again?' invited cook.

‘Well, bless you, Mrs Redfern, that's really kind of you,' said Jimmy.

Ada, laughing, said, ‘He's showin' off this mornin'.'

‘It's the relief at not 'aving 'ad anything fall on 'im yesterday,' said Ivy.

‘We are 'appy you survived, young man,' said Mr Hodges as Jimmy sat down to tea and toast.

‘Mind, I don't know 'e'll last the week out,' said Ivy.

‘That Ivy,' said Mrs Redfern, shaking her head at Mr Hodges. ‘She'll have us all in our graves before we're ready to go.'

‘I am not amused,' said Mr Hodges.

‘We 'eard that the young madam made 'er fatal mark on you,' said Ivy.

‘Who said?' asked Jimmy.

‘The young madam,' said Ada, and laughed. ‘Got you there, Jimmy,' she added.

‘Mr Hodges,' said Jimmy, ‘I might have to see to young Ada before the day's out.'

‘I 'ope it won't be injurious,' said Mr Hodges.

‘Young Ada? Told you he was showin' off,' said Ada.

‘May I ask 'ow you propose to see to her, young man?' asked Mrs Redfern.

‘Well, I'll give it serious thought, Mrs Redfern,' said Jimmy. ‘Mind, a kiss usually does it. It sort of numbs them, and they don't give you any sauce any more.'

‘Well!' exclaimed Ada. ‘Mr 'Odges, did you ever hear the like?'

‘I have not 'ad hoccasion to in this kitchen,' said Mr Hodges.

‘And I don't know a kiss will work with Ada,' said Mrs Redfern, her plump face wreathed in a smile.

‘Well, I'll give 'er another,' said Jimmy, ‘two kisses really give 'em something to think about. Thanks a lot for the toast an' marmalade, I'll get movin' now, I know the way.' He heard Ada shrieking with laughter as he made his way out.