A Mother's Promise (13 page)

Hetty moved a little further away and this time she took a hot potato from the can, and slit it so that the fragrant steam wafted under the noses of the passers-by. ‘Tasty hot taters. Come and buy.’

A man wearing a black city suit with a greenish tinge to it and slightly frayed at the cuffs stopped to make a purchase, and Hetty pocketed the halfpenny with a feeling of triumph. But, at that moment, the irate huckster came striding over to her. ‘What d’you think you’re doing, girlie?’

Hetty swallowed hard. He was a head and shoulders taller than she, and his face was scarred, causing the eyelid to droop over his left eye, which gave him an even more sinister appearance. ‘I’m selling taters,’ she said, hoping that she sounded more confident than she felt.

‘Push off and sell them somewhere else. This is my pitch.’

She opened her mouth to argue, but his fists were as big as York hams and his broken nose
suggested that he was no stranger to violence. She shrugged her shoulders. ‘All right, mister. I’m going.’ She could hear him swearing as she pushed her cart down the street. Tears of anger and frustration burned the backs of her eyes, but she bit her lip and trudged on, not really knowing where she was going, until she turned a corner and found herself in the middle of a street market. Taking a quick look round, Hetty couldn’t see anyone else selling hot potatoes, and she set up her stand. ‘Hot taters,’ she shouted. Her voice was lost in the general hubbub of voices and costermongers’ cries, but it was almost midday and the appetising smell of baked potatoes was enough to entice customers to buy. She did a brisk trade, and even the costers themselves began to wander up and make purchases.

By the time the crowds had thinned and the market stalls were closing down, Hetty had sold almost all her stock. Despite the heat, the flies and the stench of the city streets, Hetty pushed her cart homewards with a spring in her step. She did a rapid calculation in her head, and worked out that she had made one shilling and threepence profit. If she carried on at this rate she would be able to start repaying Granny as well as Cyrus Clench. If she worked even harder, perhaps taking her stand outside the People’s Palace or one of the
larger railway stations in the evenings, she could double her takings. Then, she thought, crossing the busy Cambridge Road and narrowly missing being run down by a carthorse pulling a dray laden with barrels, by the time the potato season ended in April, she might have saved enough to start up a proper stall and sell ham sandwiches and cups of tea and coffee.

She was sweating profusely and the sun beat down on her back, making her feel slightly sick. Her feet were swollen and sore in her ill-fitting second-hand boots, bought cheaply from the dolly shop, and she stopped at a communal pump to fill her cupped hands with cool water. She drank some and splashed the rest on her hot cheeks. Judging by the position of the sun, it must be after six o’clock; she would be late for supper, but Jane would be sure to have saved her some food. Hetty realised then that she was ravenously hungry. In her enthusiasm for trading, she had forgotten about her own needs and had eaten nothing since a bowl of watery porridge at breakfast. Her muscles were aching, but she pressed on, attempting to find a short cut by venturing down narrow side streets and alleyways.

When she reached the Regent’s Canal she knew that she was heading in the right direction, but she found herself in a dismal jungle
of industrial waste, bent girders, rusty paint cans and piles of slag. She was afraid to go on, but retracing her steps was not an option as she would almost certainly lose her way. She put her head down and concentrated on getting the cart through the debris that was littered all over the towpath. She had reached the bridge which carried the trains of the Great Eastern Railway over the canal when she realised that the echoing footsteps were not hers alone. She turned her head to see Cyrus loping towards her at a jogging pace. She wanted to run, but it was impossible to do so without upsetting the cart and damaging her precious can. She tried to ignore him and quickened her pace, but he was at her side before she reached the end of the tunnel. He clamped his hand on her shoulder. ‘What’s this, Miss Hetty? Have you grown too proud to speak to an old friend?’

She turned her head to give him a disdainful look. ‘You are not my friend, Mr Clench.’

He struck a pose. ‘That is a cruel thing to say, my dear. Who was it who provided you with the money for your late mother’s funeral? And at a very reasonable rate of interest, I should add.’ He tightened his grip, digging his clawed fingers into her soft flesh. ‘I think you owe me a little civility, at the very least.’

She drew away from him in alarm, but he
moved even closer, leering into her face. ‘No need to be afraid of me, girlie. I won’t hurt you. On the contrary, I like you, Hetty.’ He slid his hand down her arm to fondle her breast. ‘I could make your life a lot easier if you would let me. If you were my woman, I wouldn’t let you hawk hot taters like a common huckster.’

‘Let me go, Mr Clench,’ Hetty said, pushing him as hard as she could, but she was no match for him. Cyrus might not be a big man, but he was much stronger that she. He seized her round the waist, drawing her so close to him that she recoiled at the smell of beer, onions and dental decay on his breath. ‘Just a little kiss and a cuddle, dearie. Don’t forget you still owe me three weeks’ money. I’ve been a patient man, but now I want some recompense for my good nature.’

Hetty struggled in vain. ‘Let me go, Mr Clench. I’ll pay you in full as soon as I am able.’

He pushed her back against the damp brick wall and he took her lips in a wet, slobbery kiss. Hetty kicked out with her feet and twisted her head away, but he pushed his knee between her legs, growling with laughter as his hot mouth travelled down her neck, biting, sucking and making animal noises as his excitement intensified. She screamed, and the sound ricocheted off the damp walls, and was
carried away on the murky waters of the canal. She felt the buttons popping off her blouse and his fingers sought her left nipple, tweaking and twisting it until she yelped with pain. This only seemed to excite him further, and the more she struggled, the harder he pressed himself against her. He lifted her skirt, forcing her ruthlessly against the hard bricks, and his hand slid up her thigh. She screamed again, but he released her breast only to clamp his hand over her mouth. ‘You will pay me the interest here and now, dearie.’

She felt him hard and warm against her bare flesh. She could scarcely breathe, let alone cry out for help. Then suddenly she was free. Cyrus was grabbed from behind and flung into the canal, where he landed in the murky water with a resounding splash.

‘Hetty, are you all right?’ George’s face was close to hers, and his arms supported her as her knees trembled and gave way. ‘Are you hurt?’

She leaned against him, sobbing as she fought to catch the breath that Cyrus had almost squeezed out of her, but she managed somehow to shake her head in answer to his question.

‘The dirty old dog,’ George said, holding her close. ‘I saw what he was trying to do to you. Are you sure he didn’t hurt you?’

‘N-no, I’m all right, th-thanks to you, George. ‘Hetty steadied herself and turned away to fasten her blouse, although several of the buttons had been torn off in the assault.

George shook his fist at Clench, who was struggling ashore on the far side. ‘I should set the police on you, you villain.’

Coughing and spluttering, Clench heaved his body out of the water. ‘She led me on, the little trull. And she owes me money. You wait, Hetty Huggins. I won’t forget this in a hurry.’

George waded into the canal. ‘Come near her again, mister, and you’ll get what you rightly deserve.’

‘Come out of the water, George,’ Hetty pleaded. ‘It’s filthy dirty.’

He turned to her and his angry expression dissolved into a sheepish grin. ‘I got carried away.’ He climbed out and shook himself like a wet dog. ‘Now I got a bootful of the Regent’s Canal. At least I won’t need to wash me socks!’

Cyrus stomped away along the towpath, his muttered insults and threats drowned by the sound of a steam engine thundering across the bridge.

‘He’s gone,’ George said, eyeing her with concern. ‘You’re very pale, Hetty. Are you sure you’re all right? I mean, he didn’t actually . . .?’

She shook her head vehemently. ‘No, he
didn’t. Oh, George, I dunno what I would have done if you hadn’t come along when you did.’

‘I saw you walking down Bethnal Green Road, but when you cut through the alleys and I knew you were heading this way, I thought I’d better follow you. This is a bad place, Hetty. Don’t never come this way again.’

She managed a wobbly smile, even though her lips were bruised and swollen. ‘Don’t worry. That’s the last thing I’d do. I wanted to get home for supper and I just didn’t stop to think.’

He linked her hand through his arm. ‘Come on, girl. I’ll see you safe home.’

‘At least he didn’t find me takings,’ Hetty said, thrusting her hand into her pocket and taking out the leather purse. ‘When I deduct me costs, I’ll have made one and three today, George. We was lucky to make sixpence a day making matchboxes.’

‘That’s a good start.’ He took the handle of the cart, but had only taken a few paces when he stopped, turning to Hetty with a frown creasing his brow. ‘But it ain’t safe for a girl like you to walk home alone.’

Hetty’s knees were still shaking and she could still taste and smell Cyrus. It would take a long time to put his brutal assault out of her mind, but she was not going to let on to George, or anyone at home for that matter.
‘Don’t worry about me. I’ll be more careful in future.’

‘I’m sure you will, but that fellow is dangerous, and I don’t think he’ll give up easily. What if he tries it on again?’

‘I’ll report him to the police if he lays a finger on me.’

‘He’s a crafty one, Hetty. He’s got it in for you, of that I’m certain. You’ll need to be extra careful, especially when it starts to get dark earlier and earlier. If you’ll just tell me what time you’ll be heading off every day, I’ll meet you and see you home.’

She could see that his mind was set on it, and, after her encounter with Cyrus, Hetty was not in a mood to refuse. ‘Ta, George. Maybe it would be a good idea, just for a while at any rate, until I get the hang of things.’

They parted in Totty Street, arranging to meet outside St Matthew’s Church in Bethnal Green Road the next day after work. Hetty went indoors, determined not to mention anything about Clench, but Granny’s eagle eyes immediately spotted the missing buttons on her blouse, and, as she peered closer, she saw the telltale marks on Hetty’s neck. Granny sent Jane outside to fill the kettle at the pump and she gave Sammy and Eddie a farthing each to go to the shop on the corner
of Grove Road to buy some sweets as a special treat. ‘It’s not every day your sister goes into business,’ she said, shooing them out of the door. She turned to Hetty, frowning. ‘So what happened to you, miss? Have you been making free with that costermonger fellow?’

Hetty’s breath caught on a sob. ‘N-no, it weren’t George.’

‘Pull yourself together, Hetty. Stop blubbering and tell me what happened. I may be old, but I know the signs when a girl has allowed a man to go too far.’

Reluctantly, Hetty told her what had happened. If she had expected any sympathy, she was disappointed. Granny pursed her lips. ‘Well, what do you expect? Only a fool would cut down by the canal. That was asking for trouble, Hetty.’

‘Yes’m. I know that now. It won’t happen again.’

Granny folded her arms across her flat chest. ‘So how much do you owe this creature all told?’

‘I dunno exactly. He keeps adding on bits of interest. I think it’s about two pounds.’

‘We’ll see about that. Now, not a word of this to that silly sister of yours. We don’t want her having hysterics and going into early labour. I’m no midwife and we’ve got enough trouble
on our hands without adding a squalling brat that comes before its time.’

Early on Friday morning, when Cyrus came for his money, Hetty had not yet gone to the bakery to collect the potatoes. Summoned by the rapping on the knocker, she went to open the door but was forestalled by Mr Shipworthy who gave her an icy stare. ‘I know what you did, young woman. Cyrus told me all about it in the pub last night. Very upset he was, poor fellow. A girl like you gets a man into trouble.’ Without giving her a chance to respond to this unexpected verbal attack, he opened the door and ushered Cyrus into the narrow hallway. ‘Ah, Clench, old chap. I hope you’ve recovered from your nasty experience.’

Cyrus took off his greasy top hat and clutched it in front of him, baring his blackened teeth in an ingratiating smile. ‘I have, but it’s a wonder I didn’t catch me death of cold, Jasper. However, it’s kind of you to enquire.’

Jasper looked down his thin nose at Hetty. ‘I hope you’re suitably apologetic to this poor man, miss. Leading him on and then crying rape. Shame on you.’

‘I never did that!’ Hetty glared at Cyrus. ‘You liar! What have you told him?’

‘Exactly what he said, Miss Huggins. You
took advantage of my chivalrous nature.’ He turned to Jasper, holding out his hands. ‘See how she pretends innocence? She is the worst kind of tease, promising much and then screaming for help. I was never so embarrassed or humiliated in my whole life.’

‘A liar and a coward, that’s you, mister.’ Granny Huggins stalked out of the parlour, advancing on Cyrus with her eyes narrowed. If she had been a cat, Hetty thought in astonishment, Granny’s back would have been arched and her fur standing on end as she hissed at Clench.

His eyes opened wide in alarm as he backed towards the front door. ‘Mrs Huggins, surely you haven’t been taken in by that wanton girl’s lies?’

‘Get out of my house,’ Granny said in a low, menacing tone. ‘Get out and don’t ever show your face in this street again.’

The front door was still open and Cyrus stumbled out onto the pavement. ‘I’ve come on legitimate business. That little trull owes me two pounds fifteen and eleven. If she don’t pay up, I’ll send the bailiffs in.’

Granny put her hand in the pocket of her apron and Hetty heard the sound of coins jingling. She held her breath, not daring to speak. Jasper pushed past her and went to stand beside Clench. ‘Mrs Huggins, ma’am.
Where is your sense of fair play and justice? My friend Cyrus is only doing his job.’