Custard Tarts and Broken Hearts (44 page)

‘I’ll recommend you, Ted, but first I wonder if you can help with a little problem we have in the Hull branch?’ She explained the arrival of the young man the previous evening.

He nodded decisively. ‘I think I can help. I know people I can pass him on to.’

She thanked him and decided to ask no more questions. The quivering young man who’d arrived at their branch meeting would never survive hard labour, let alone the Western Front. She would take any help she could get.

‘And I’ll be in Hull for a few more weeks,’ Ted added, ‘so any more waifs and strays, send ’em my way!’

They talked for another hour. Ted never left off in his railing against the war government; the generals; the profiteers. As she listened to his stream of condemnation and resentments, she was reminded of Ernest’s unyielding focus.

‘There’s only one war to be fighting at the moment and that’s the class war. Any other just benefits the profiteers. Look at the way the munitionettes are being exploited now!’

She mentioned that her sister was a munitionette at Woolwich and he became attentive.

‘Your sister!’ His tone was rather accusing, which Eliza didn’t appreciate. ‘A lot of the girls are fed up being on half the men’s wages,’ he went on. ‘If you’re blown sky high, doesn’t matter what sex you are, does it?’

His words chilled her: she had tried everything to dissuade Matty from munitions work, but the girl had an even stronger will than her own.

She shook her head. ‘I’ve got very little influence over my sister. But she wouldn’t listen to me, or my brother Sam, or even your old friend Nellie Clark, and that young lady can be persuasive when she wants to be!’

When she told him that Matty was now living with Nellie, he sat down again, elbows on the arms of the chair, his long fingers steepled under his chin, as though he were trying to recall Nellie to mind. Eliza noticed then his rather elegant wrists, too fine for a docker, she thought. She tried to picture Ted dock-labouring. It was like imagining a highly strung thoroughbred doing the work of a carthorse. No wonder he chafed and railed so.

‘Nellie Clark?’ He sat back and smiled. ‘Yes, I do remember her persuasive ways now.’

The other thing that hadn’t changed about him was his smile, which, in spite of the puckering scar, was still charming. She said goodbye, wondering if she’d been wise to confide in him so much. Still, they were on the same side in this conflict – the opposite side to the warmongers – and she judged that a common enemy must make him a friend.

Several weeks later Eliza received a letter from Ernest, forwarded by her loyal friend Sarah at the NFWW. He wanted to see William. Since his return from Australia last year, she’d met him only once. Although she believed his bitterness against her outweighed his concern for the boy, he seemed intent on pursuing his son. She knew that sooner or later she must face him, so she’d agreed to a meeting in London earlier this year, on one of her trips to see Matty. His letters had hinted at legal action; she hoped if she met him that their contact could at least remain civilized. Unwilling to return to Mecklenburgh Square, she’d suggested the more neutral territory of the NFWW headquarters. Sarah was to serve them tea in a small parlour on the top floor, a dusty room crammed with an assortment of odd bits of furniture and filing cabinets. Ernest strode in with a businesslike air, pausing to give her a long stare.

‘Eliza,’ was all he said by way of greeting. Taking the chair she offered him, he put his despatch case carefully at his feet as though he suspected she might run off with that, as she had run off with his son. It exasperated Eliza, more than anything else he could have done, and she launched in on the attack.

‘Ernest, why on earth do you care that William is with me? You wanted to send him away!’

‘I see we’re to have none of the niceties of polite society.’ Ernest flushed. ‘Not that I’m surprised.’

‘Reverted to the gutter, you mean?’ She would let him get away with nothing, not now that she’d broken the shackles.

‘You left me, without warning or explanation, taking our son halfway round the world. I haven’t seen you for over two years. I would think that deserves at least some humility and explanation on your part!’

How haughty he was! She’d forgotten just how different his public persona was from his behaviour with her. A man of the people, he had been called, and once she’d believed it too.

‘You threatened to take my child away! I don’t need to give any other explanation for why I chose to escape with him, rather than give him up to strangers.’

‘And yet you did exactly that with our firstborn?’ he asked in the open-ended way he had, laying a trap for her to fall into. But she had already decided she would never divulge to him Matty’s whereabouts.

‘I was much younger then, and I was in awe of you.’

‘And you are no longer?’

She sighed; she had no desire to talk about their relationship. The only thing that interested her was how best to keep William with her. ‘I’m very grateful to you.’

‘Grateful!’ He slammed his fist on to the tea table, rattling the fine-bone china teacups and saucers. ‘Next you’ll be bobbing me a curtsey! It’s
you,
Eliza, who could never escape your ridiculous ingrained ideas of class. Don’t try to cast me as that particular villain!’

That would be too easy for him and she wouldn’t allow it. ‘I’m not talking about our class differences, Ernest. What I know is that as a man you wanted to own me and I found that I didn’t want to be owned!’

He appeared stunned. ‘But I gave you every freedom!’

‘For a woman who used to be your housekeeper, perhaps, but never the freedom of an equal.’ She tried to slow her breathing, wishing the struggle over. Still she dug deeper into her stubborn reserves of emotional stamina. ‘What is it that you want, Ernest?’

‘Want? What I want is a say in how my son is raised. As I told you in Australia when he was born, I wish him brought up a gentleman.’

‘And there you have it.
I
can’t bring him up as a gentleman, can I?’

‘Eliza!’ His exasperation erupted. ‘You were
never
maternal!’

‘And you were never
paternal
!’ She knew now that she would win. When she’d asked him what he wanted, she knew he hadn’t been completely truthful. No doubt he did want William brought up a gentleman, but she suspected a deeper motive; she’d seen through his bluster. He wanted her back. If he’d answered, ‘What I want is you,’ she might have relented and lost, but he hadn’t.

‘I
will
bring up our son, Ernest.’ She was implacable now. ‘If you wish to ensure he’s given the education of a gentleman, then pay the fees of a good day school; I won’t have him sent away! If you like, I will bring him to see you.’

That was her offer, her bluff. She couldn’t go back to him, but she would be part of his life again. At least she’d allowed him his pride; let them both pretend it was only William he was interested in seeing.

He looked at her, letting fall the wounded veil of haughtiness. His dark eyes glowed with a softened light. She had hurt him, but he still loved her. Abruptly, he rose, picked up his despatch case and turned to her. In the dusty light of the long sash window, she noticed the grey flecks in his dark hair, the sagginess around his eyes. She felt pity, but wouldn’t relent.

‘Very well, Eliza, we’ll do as you suggest… How is the child?’

‘He’s thriving, he’s determined and clever… and he has a temper… like you.’ She got up and went to him, putting out her hand. ‘I’m sorry, Ernest, that I hurt you.’

He nodded. ‘I didn’t realize you felt so caged, I wish I had known…’

Then he turned briskly away. ‘Perhaps you’d care to visit me in Mecklenburgh Square, next time you’re in London… and bring the boy?’

She’d told him she would write; the weeks had passed and she’d delayed. She’d wanted to keep William to herself for as long as possible, but she had offered Ernest the compromise and now she must honour it.

Nellie was sitting up alone, late one warm Wednesday night, towards the end of May. She’d thrown up the sash window and opened the front and back doors to let some air blow through. The draught brought with it fetid odours from the Neckinger tannery. After a month of cold, grey days, summer had arrived today, with a sudden oppressive heat. She’d sweltered all day in the packing room and then come home to a steamy kitchen. Even though it was not laundry day, Alice had seized the opportunity to get it done and dried in the sunshine. The boiling copper’s humid heat still hung about the house. Now Nellie simply wanted to enjoy a few minutes’ peace in the cool breeze wafting through the house. These days she prized her moments alone, when she allowed herself to reread Sam’s letters and to send him her silent thoughts and prayers. Perhaps it was superstition, but she believed, wherever he was, he heard those unspoken words of her heart. After she’d read them all through, Nellie tidied his letters back into a bundle and she was about to extinguish the table lamp when her attention was caught by a shadow flickering past the open window. She went to pull down the sash, but a hand shot out to grab the window before she could fully close it. The face on the other side of the window broke into a grin, one that she’d once found charming but that now filled her with shock and dread.

‘Ted!’ Nellie gripped the window frame even tighter, trying to push it down, while he resisted. Eventually he said, ‘Ain’t you pleased to see me, Nellie?’

She stood rigid, but eventually his grip proved the stronger. Forcing the sash up, he coiled his long frame and slipped through the open window. He closed it softly behind him, turned and dipped forward, quickly snatching a kiss.

‘You could’ve used the front door, it’s wide open,’ she said, with a coolness that belied her racing heart. Pulling back, she deliberately wiped the kiss from her mouth. Every inch of her was trembling, but she was determined not to show it. ‘I’d best close it.’

She went to the front door, desperately trying to work out the best way to deal with Ted. She forced herself to stay calm, looking carefully up and down the street to check for nosy neighbours before closing the door. When she returned, Ted had untied the bundle and was reading one of Sam’s letters. All her studied calm vanished. Furious that he should touch something so precious, she dived to snatch it from him but he pulled it away, tearing the thin blue paper.

‘Give that to me, Ted Bosher,’ she hissed.

He tossed it back on to the table. ‘You must’ve been bloody desperate after I left if he’s the best you could do.’

‘You was glad enough of him the night you blew yourself up!’ she shot back, gathering up Sam’s precious letters.

Ted snorted. ‘He never did it for me!’

‘Don’t matter why he did it. He ended up in Tower Bridge nick because of you!’

‘Well, it wasn’t me shopped him.’

Nellie was stunned, not by his ingratitude but that he didn’t seem surprised. She’d always been suspicious about the mysterious informer who’d seen Sam at the arches.

‘If you
did
, you’re a selfish, ungrateful bastard and you can get out!’

‘I just said it
wasn’t
me! I swear to you, Nell. But I couldn’t help it if one my pals decided to steer the Old Bill in the wrong direction, could I?’

Once Nellie might have doubted Ted was capable of such a betrayal, but not now. ‘I don’t believe it was your pal,’ she said coldly. ‘Just go, Ted, and don’t come near me again.’

Ted threw himself down in her father’s chair and turned the scarred side of his face towards her. She hadn’t seen, in the dim light, just how bad it was. Now she gasped. He drew a long finger down it.

‘I didn’t get away scot-free, Nellie,’ he said quietly.

‘I’m sorry, Ted, but you did it to yourself. I’ve got no sympathy.’

He grinned at her. ‘Same old no-nonsense Nellie, eh? How long did it take Gilbie to step into my shoes, then?’

‘Don’t tell me you’re jealous, Ted. It won’t wash, not after five years and not a word out of you. What did you expect me to do, sit indoors and cry myself to sleep every night? And not that it’s any of your business. I’ve found the man I’m going to marry, and it ain’t you! Me and Sam’s engaged.’

This seemed to genuinely shock him. ‘You know I was nuts about you, Nell, the only reason I never come back is
this
.’ He jabbed at his face. ‘I was scared you wouldn’t want an ugly git like me on your arm.’ His voice had taken on that resentful, childish tone she remembered. He really did expect her sympathy.

‘The only ugly thing about you now is what’s on the inside.’

‘I don’t give a tinker’s whether you believe me or not! The truth is, I wouldn’t have come to see you if it wasn’t for our old friend, Madam Mecklenburgh.’ Light from the gas lamp picked out the gold flecks in his eyes and she was aware of him studying her reaction.

‘Eliza told me she’d met you in Hull,’ she said calmly.

Ted pulled an impressed face. ‘First-name terms with the great lady!’

‘She’s a Bermondsey girl, same as me.’

‘Was once, but I know where her loyalties lie and it’s not with her brother in France, you can be sure of that.’

‘I know all about the conchie work she does. Anyway, I never wanted Sam, or any of them, to go. It was their choice.’

‘When they
had
a choice!’ he flung at her. ‘So long as donkeys like him were lining up to get slaughtered, they let ’em choose. Different now they’re running out of cannon fodder, ain’t it? Did he think he’d be protecting you and the kids from the evil Hun? Idiot. The only ones he’s protecting are the profiteering bastards, getting rich off munitions.’ His vitriol seemed to sap him and he sank back. She observed his laboured breath and noticed how thin he was. Hardship had etched his face with lines she didn’t remember. The fire of his spirit seemed to be burning him up from the inside out. She hated him, yet she couldn’t forget that once she had loved him.

‘I’ll get you a drink and something to eat, then you can be on your way, Ted.’

As she passed his chair, he caught her hand. ‘I was hoping you could put me up, just for the night, till I get some digs?’