A Place Called Home (2 page)

‘Maybe he's looking for Ma,' Lucy murmured.

‘Well he won't find that one here, now will he? Christelle is goodness knows where, singing her heart out and hoping to become the next star of the Paris Opera.'

‘Is she very beautiful, Granny? I can't remember what she looks like.'

‘You were only two when she took off with her fancy man, darling. She is a beauty, there's no two ways about it, and she has a lovely voice, but she has no sense when it comes to blokes. She never did, or you wouldn't have come into the world when she was only fourteen.'

‘I won't let that happen to me,' Lucy said firmly. ‘I'm going to make something of myself.'

‘Of course you will, love.' Eva smiled and sat down at the table. ‘I walked miles today and my dogs are barking. Anyway, that's my problem. How did you do?'

Lucy unwrapped her bundle. ‘A few silk hankies and a wallet, but there's no money in it, Granny – just a few letters and some visiting cards.'

Eva examined it carefully. ‘Peccary leather. This must have been expensive. Where did you get it?'

‘A gent came out of a shop in Burlington Arcade and it fell out of his pocket.'

‘Fell out?' Eva raised a delicate winged eyebrow.

‘It did, honest. I wouldn't have the nerve to take it. Dipping for silk hankies is one thing, but lifting wallets is beyond me.'

‘You could have given it back to him,' Eva said, frowning. ‘He might have offered you a reward.'

‘And he might have accused me of taking money from it, even though it was empty.'

Eva stared at the hankies with a practised eye. ‘There's a couple of bob to be had for those, although old Pinch is getting meaner by the day, and more particular in what he's prepared to take.' She opened the wallet and took out a deckle-edged visiting card. ‘I don't believe it. This belongs to Linus Daubenay, Esquire.'

‘Do you know him, Granny?'

‘He used to be one of the mashers who hung around the stage door when your ma was in the chorus. She was only thirteen, but she looked older, especially with all that greasepaint on her face.'

‘Was he my father?' Lucy clasped her hand to her chest in an attempt to still her racing heart.

‘My Christelle wouldn't have anything to do with a man like that. She was flighty but she wasn't daft.'

‘One day I'll find my dad, and then I'll know who I really am.'

‘Sweetheart, you know who you are.' Eva reached out to clasp Lucy's hand. ‘You're the best girl in the world.'

‘But you won't talk about him. You must have known him, Granny.'

Eva frowned. ‘He was a toff, that's all I'll say. He walked out one day, leaving my girl all alone in Peckham Rye, and you only a few weeks old.'

‘Why did he go away? What happened to him?'

‘He was killed in a duel, that's all I know. But he broke my girl's heart and set her on the path to ruin. I just wish I could have given you a better start in life.'

‘You've given me everything, and I love you.' Lucy slipped her arm around her grandmother's shoulders.

Eva patted her hand. ‘And I love you, sweetheart. But let's be practical: we need money and I had a bad day. I knocked on so many doors looking for any sort of work that my knuckles are raw.' She scanned Lucy's face, shaking her head. ‘It's time we thought of a better way to earn our bread, and one that's on the right side of the law for a change.'

‘You're tired and hungry, Granny.' Lucy bundled up the hankies. ‘I'll take these to old Pinch, and I won't allow him to fob me off with a few pence.'

Eva turned her attention to the wallet, taking out folded slips of paper and opening them. Her expression brightened. ‘You said there wasn't any money, but these are like cash in the bank.'

‘I don't understand. What are they?'

‘These are IOUs made out to Daubenay, and he's owed close to three hundred pounds.' She held up the slips of paper with a triumphant smile. ‘Returning these to their rightful owner should entitle you to a generous reward.'

‘Do you really think so?'

‘I do indeed.'

‘I'll go now, and I won't take no for an answer.'

‘It'll be dark in an hour and I don't want you wandering the streets on your own. Take the wipes to old Pinch and get what you can and then we can eat. Tomorrow morning we'll go to Half Moon Street together.'

Next morning, Eva donned her widow's weeds complete with a heavily veiled bonnet. The fact that she was not a widow and had never been married did not deter her from wearing the outfit in order to gain sympathy from prospective employers, or from the unsuspecting public when circumstances forced her to beg for a few pennies in order to eat. Lucy had nothing to wear other than the frock she had on and it was quite unsuitable for the changeable April weather. The shawl she wrapped around her shoulders was lacy with moth holes, but her grandmother convinced her that this was all to the good.

‘Demand to see Mr Daubenay in person,' Eva whispered as Lucy was about to knock on the door of the elegant Georgian terraced house in Half Moon Street. ‘Don't be fobbed off by a servant. You'll do better without me, so I'll keep out of the way but I'm here if you need me.' She moved out of sight as a maid opened the door.

‘No hawkers or traders and no didicois.' The girl was about to slam the door but Lucy leapt forward, leaning against it with all her might. There was a momentary trial of strength with both of them pushing, but Lucy had hunger and determination on her side and eventually the maid gave in. ‘What is it you want?'

‘I got something for Mr Daubenay and I must see him.'

‘He's not at home.'

Eva stepped out of the shadows. ‘Tell Mr Daubenay that we have something of vital importance to him.'

The maid stared at Eva's mourning clothes and her expression changed subtly. ‘I'll go and see if he's in.' She closed the door.

‘She'll be back,' Eva said smugly when Lucy turned to her with an anguished look. ‘Our Mr Daubenay lives dangerously. He's a gambler and a womaniser.' She retreated as the door opened once again.

‘He'll see you,' the maid said haughtily. ‘Wipe your feet on the mat and follow me.' She glanced over her shoulder. ‘And I got eyes in the back of my head, so don't swipe nothing on the way.'

Lucy obeyed her instructions without a word and followed her up two flights of carpeted stairs to a wide landing where bowls of potpourri filled the air with their delicate scent. The maid paused, squinting at her in a menacing fashion. ‘You'd better not be gulling me, nipper. I got six brothers and five sisters at home and I know when I'm being hoodwinked. This is a respectable rooming house, just bear that in mind.'

‘I don't know what you're talking about,' Lucy said primly.

‘Street urchins have no place in Half Moon Street. If you try anything on with Mr Daubenay it'll be me what gets it in the neck for letting you in.' She rapped on the door and Lucy heard a faint command to enter. The maid admitted her with a disdainful curl of her lips. ‘Remember what I said.'

Lucy marched past her, holding her head high. She had been tempted to answer back, but she was hungry and there was money to be had. She came to a halt, momentarily forgetting her mission as she looked round. It was almost like stepping into her dream, except that the furniture was leather-covered and there was a more masculine feel to the room.

Linus Daubenay stood with his back to a roaring fire. A portrait of him as a young man hung above the mantelshelf, but a life of excess and debauchery had left its mark, He was still handsome, but his face was pale and puffy and his brown eyes were bloodshot and underlined by dark smudges. ‘Well?' he demanded. ‘What do you want? Be quick, girl. I haven't got all day.'

Lucy bobbed a curtsey. ‘You dropped your wallet in Burlington Arcade, guv. I saw it fall but by the time I picked it up you'd gone. I tried to follow you but I got caught up in the crowds and you'd disappeared.'

He held out his hand. ‘Give it to me.' He snatched the wallet from her and opened it. ‘If I discover anything to be missing . . .' His voice tailed off as he took out the slips of paper.

Lucy waited nervously while he examined them. ‘There weren't no money in it, guv. I had to look inside so that I could return it to the rightful owner.'

‘You're right,' he said, stretching his full lips into a smile. ‘There were just these scraps of paper – completely worthless. Thank you, girl.' He put his hand in his pocket and took out a silver sixpence. ‘Take this for your trouble.'

She shook her head. ‘I ain't so green as I'm cabbage-looking, guv. I know what an IOU is, and they're worth more than a tanner.'

‘Are you trying to extort money from me?'

‘Call it what you like, but I know what their value is to you.'

His eyes narrowed. ‘Call it a shilling and think yourself lucky I don't call a constable.'

Lucy looked him in the eye. ‘I call that mean.'

‘Do I know you?' He stared at her, frowning. ‘Your face is familiar.'

‘You knew my ma,' Lucy said recklessly. ‘You might be me dad for all I know.'

He recoiled as if she had slapped his face. ‘That's a preposterous lie. Who put that idea in your head?'

‘She was a chorus girl and you was a masher. My granny told me so.'

‘I daresay she was no better than she should be. I am not your father and I never met your mother or the woman you call your granny, so take the shilling and be off, unless you want me to have you arrested for picking my pocket.' He thrust the coin into her hand. ‘I suspect that you're known to the police. You don't want to be hauled before the magistrate, do you?'

‘My ma is called Christelle. You must remember her.'

‘What if I do?' His casual tone belied the startled look in his eyes, but he recovered quickly. ‘The name sounds familiar, although I can't recall her face any more than I can remember the other wantons who shared my bed. All of them were fully compensated for their favours.'

She knew she had touched a nerve and she pressed home her advantage. ‘I'll accept the shilling, but what me and Granny need is work. Honest work with a proper wage.'

He stared at her open-mouthed and then he laughed. ‘You were trying to extort money from me a moment ago. Now you want me to employ you and your aged grandmother.'

‘Don't let her hear you calling her old. She's blacked a fishwife's eye for less.'

‘Why should I help you? Give me a good reason for not turning you in and telling the police that you stole my wallet, which I suspect is the truth.'

‘I think you was a bit fond of my ma. Why else would you remember her name?'

‘Gentlemen don't consort with chorus girls, at least not on a permanent basis. I've no interest in you or your mother, but you have nerve. I acknowledge that. What's your name?'

‘Lucy Pocket.'

‘And where do you live, Lucy Pocket?'

‘Here and there, guv. At the moment we're in Burr Street, near the Red Lion Brewery.'

‘And your mother,' he said casually. ‘Do you know where she is at present?'

‘No, guv.'

His eyebrows shot together in a frown. ‘Then I can't help you.' He took a half-crown from his pocket and tossed it at her. ‘That's for your trouble. Now leave my house and don't come back. I don't want to see you again.'

Lucy drew herself up to her full height. ‘The feeling's mutual, guv.' She left the room with as much dignity as she could muster.

‘What happened in there?' Eva demanded anxiously. ‘I was about to knock on the door and demand to know what he'd done with you. I never should have allowed you to do this on your own.' She flung her arms around Lucy and held her close.

‘I'm perfectly all right, Granny.' Lucy extricated herself from her grandmother's arms, and taking the coins from her pocket she placed them in Eva's hand. ‘Three shillings and sixpence. It ain't much for all the trouble we've gone to, but it's better than nothing.'

Eva tucked the money in the tops of her tightly laced stays. ‘Well done, love.'

‘He remembered Ma,' Lucy said slowly. ‘I asked him if he was me dad, but he denied it.'

‘You're a proper caution, Lucy Pocket.' Eva trilled with laughter. ‘I'd have given anything to see his face.'

‘Let's go home, Granny. I don't feel comfortable here.'

‘We're just as good as the likes of him,' Eva said, linking arms. ‘We'll treat ourselves to pie and mash and pretend we're rich.'

‘The rent's due today, Granny.'

‘Don't worry, my duck. I'll charm the rent collector. He'll give us another week's grace. You'll see.'

That night they slept huddled together in a shop doorway, which they had to share with a drunken old woman who wheezed and twitched in her sleep, and a small white mongrel with brown ears and a brown patch over one eye. The animal snuggled up to Lucy and she had not the heart to turn it out into the cold, even though it was mangy and running with fleas.

The rent collector had not been sympathetic. In fact he had demanded the back rent and refused to leave until Eva handed over the change from the money that Linus Daubenay had given Lucy. It was little enough and he had tried to snatch the silver locket that Eva always wore. It contained a lock of Christelle's hair intertwined with one of Lucy's baby curls, and Eva had resisted angrily. She had struck out with uncharacteristic violence and had chased the man along the landing, giving him a shove that sent him tumbling down the stairs. Lucy had held her breath, thinking he might have been killed, but the stream of invective which flowed from his lips indicated that he was alive, unhurt and extremely angry. Shortly afterwards the door of their room had been forced open by two burly men with cudgels, and they were not in the mood to be generous.