The Cockney Angel (25 page)

‘Takes one to know one,’ he retorted, following her to the door and opening it for her. ‘Now you know where my room is, you can call on me any time of the night or day, especially the night.’

Irene gave him a gentle slap on the cheek. ‘That’s for nothing; see what you get for something.’

‘I can’t wait, Irene my angel. Let me take
you
out for supper tomorrow night, followed by the theatre, or a penny gaff if you’d prefer something a bit livelier.’

‘One Angel sister involved with the Tippet family is quite enough, ta very much. Goodnight.’ Irene started off in what she thought was the direction of her own room, but he called her back.

‘You’ll end up giving Ephraim the fright of his life if you go that way.’

She turned on her heel, changing direction. ‘Don’t worry, Ras. I never make the same mistake twice.’

‘The linen cupboard is the second door on the left,’ he called after her.

‘Ta, I’ll remember that.’

She found the linen cupboard, and was amazed to see piles of sheets, pillowcases and blankets, all neatly folded and the shelves labelled as to their size and colour. It was the draper’s version of a treasure chest. There were definite advantages, she thought, in being married to a linen merchant. She selected what she needed and made her way back to her own room, where Jessie was on her knees attempting to light the fire.

‘You took your time, miss. Was you lost?’

‘You can go now. I’ll see to the fire.’

Jessie scrambled to her feet. ‘I got to make the bed, miss.’

‘I can do that. I’m not entirely helpless. Anyway, it’s time a girl of your age was tucked up in her own bed. Off you go.’

‘Well, if you’re sure …’ Jessie blinked at her in astonishment. ‘Your supper’s on the table by the window, although it’s probably cold by now.’

‘Never mind that. I’m sure it will be fine, thank you.’

Jessie left the room, closing the door softly behind her.

‘Poor little bitch,’ Irene murmured, going down on her knees and taking the bellows to the fire. ‘I’d rather be a pure finder than have her job.’

Next morning, despite their crumpled and grubby appearance, Irene had little choice other than to dress in the clothes she had worn yesterday. It was either that or Jim’s shirts and breeches and she did not think that to appear at breakfast in boy’s clothes would go down too well with the family. Ras would probably hoot with laughter and think it extremely funny, but he would be alone in this. She pulled on her skirt, which was stiff with mud and still damp, and then her cotton blouse, which was badly creased and travel-stained. She pinned her hair into a bun at the nape of her neck and smoothed the sides over her ears. A quick glance in the dressing-table mirror
was
not encouraging. She looked like a dishevelled scullery maid, but unless she wanted to spend the day in her room there was nothing for it but to go downstairs to the dining room and hope that she could snatch something to eat before anyone else was about.

The house was eerily silent, and the only sound she could hear as she descended the stairs was the ticking of the long-case clock in the entrance hall. Irene entered the dining room to find Josiah seated at the head of the table with his napkin tucked into his collar as he attacked his breakfast of bacon, kidneys and buttered eggs. His round cheeks pouched in surprise when he saw her and he swallowed convulsively. ‘Good Lord! What a sight you look, Irene. Your sister told me you had arrived last evening, but she failed to mention that you were in such a terrible state.’

‘I’m sorry, Josiah. I have nothing else to wear. There appears to have been some misunderstanding while I was out of town and the landlord has changed the locks on the shop door.’

‘Mrs Tippet gave me a garbled account of your actions but I cannot say that I approve of them. It’s not right for an unmarried young woman to go traipsing about the country on her own, let alone to chase after a young man wanted by the police.’ He lifted his hand as
Irene
opened her mouth to defend her actions. ‘No, don’t say a word. My wife has told me that your father is temporarily out of circulation. I can’t bring myself to name the place where he is incarcerated, but if this piece of news should get out it will seriously damage my trade and my standing in the community. You know that I am hoping to stand for alderman next year, I suppose?’

Irene nodded her head. ‘I do.’

‘And yet you still act rashly and without a thought as to the effect such behaviour might have on your family. Shame on you, Irene! Did you never stop for one minute to consider your sister’s delicate condition, or your mother’s poor health? No, I can see that you did not. I shudder to look at you now, my girl. Your behaviour is quite shocking. D’you hear me?’

‘Yes, Josiah, I hear you, but—’

‘No buts, young lady. You are in no position to argue or even to plead your case. You have thrown yourself on my mercy, and it is fortunate for you that I am a fair man. Mrs Tippet tells me that you have nowhere to go, and it is my duty to honour her wish that you should be allowed to remain here for as long as necessary. However, while you are under my roof you will obey my rules. You will behave with decorum, and that means that you will not go running about the city like a common street girl.’

Clenching her hands behind her back and digging her fingernails into her palms, Irene bit back angry words. She longed to tell Josiah exactly what she thought of him, but she was in no position to argue. She had no money, and until she could find a situation that allowed her to support herself she would have to rely on her brother-in-law’s charity.

‘Do you understand me, Irene?’ Josiah raised his voice to a shout and his face was suffused with an unattractive shade of purple.

Irene stared down at her feet. ‘Yes, Josiah.’

‘Now go to your room before anyone sees you looking like a Billingsgate fishwife. I will speak to Mrs Tippet and she must find you some garments that are suitable for a guest in a house such as this.’

Irene’s stomach rumbled as she glanced at the table set for breakfast. The aroma of fried bacon and hot toast made her mouth water, but she was not going to beg Josiah for food. She would rather starve. ‘I don’t want your charity, Josiah. I could work in your shop and earn my keep.’

‘That’s out of the question. Tongues would wag.’ Josiah picked up his coffee cup and slurped a mouthful, choking on the hot liquid and scowling at Irene over the rim as though it was her fault that he had burnt his tongue.

‘I don’t see why,’ Irene said, unwilling to
give
in so easily. ‘Your sons work for you, so why can’t I? I could sweep floors or dust shelves. You seem to forget that I am used to working in a shop.’

‘A shop! You call my emporium a shop and compare it with that – that cupboard at the bottom of Wood Street where your mother sold pickles?’

Josiah’s eyes bulged over his fat cheeks and for a moment Irene had a vision of them popping out altogether, like the stopper from a ginger beer bottle. His breathing was erratic and she was afraid that he was going to have an apoplectic fit. She backed towards the doorway. ‘No, of course not. It was just an idea and I’m sorry if my presence here embarrasses you, but I won’t stay a moment longer than necessary. You have my word on that.’ She had the satisfaction of seeing him momentarily bereft of speech, and she marched out of the dining room with her head held high.

She was halfway up the second flight of stairs when she met Ephraim coming down. He stopped and stared at her, looking her up and down. ‘Good heavens, Irene. What a sight you look.’

‘If anyone says that to me once more, I’ll scream.’ She pushed past him and ran up the remaining stairs to her room. Once safely inside, she shut the door and flopped down
on
her bed. Wild plans of escape ran through her mind. She could put on Jim’s clothes and beg in the streets, or sell matches or bootlaces. She could go down to the docks and find a shipmaster who would take her on as a cabin boy and she would search the world for her brother. Or she could beg Emmie to give her the money for the train fare to Romford and return to the peace and quiet of Miss Maude’s house in Havering. Perhaps life in the country would not be such a bad thing after all. But in her heart she knew that she was a city girl born and bred, and that country life would soon pall. She would miss the sights and even the smells of London, and in particular she would miss the hurly-burly and excitement of each day in the throbbing heart of the capital. She could not desert Pa, who would need her to make a home for him when he was released from prison, as he must surely be when the jury found him innocent of any crime other than being in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Once again, she had no choice. She must put up with Josiah’s ranting and self-righteous condemnation. She would have to bite her tongue and act like a meek and dutiful sister and sister-in-law, not to mention being a support to Ma, who must hate having to be dependent on Josiah’s charity. Poor Ma.
She
was the one who had suffered the most, and she was not in a fit state of health to endure much more.

Irene rose to her feet as someone tapped gently on her door. ‘Come in.’

‘Let me in, Renie. Me hands is full.’

Irene opened the door and found her mother standing in the passage with her arms piled high with garments. ‘You shouldn’t be doing this, Ma,’ she said, taking them from her. ‘You should be resting.’

‘I ain’t an invalid, and Emmie didn’t want that nosey maidservant to find out what was going on.’ Clara entered the room and stood for a moment looking around, tut-tutting and shaking her head. ‘It’s better than the attic, I suppose, but not much. Really, ducks, I don’t like to speak ill of your sister, but this is little more than a boxroom. My bedchamber is bigger than this, and the girl lights my fire first thing every morning.’

Irene laid the clothes out on the bed, staring at the tumble of delicately coloured fabrics from the finest cotton poplin to mousseline and silk taffeta. ‘Hmm,’ she murmured. ‘At least there are some advantages in being married to an old stick like Josiah.’

‘Don’t be unkind, Renie,’ Clara said, smothering a chuckle. ‘Emmie is very fond of him and he worships her.’

‘I should hope so, but she didn’t need to turn out so many of her fine clothes. A blouse and a skirt would do for me.’

‘Now listen to me, love,’ Clara said, sinking down on a chair by the empty grate. ‘Take what’s on offer. With your pa in jail we can’t afford to be choosy.’

Irene moved swiftly to her side and wrapped her arm around her mother’s thin shoulders. ‘You’ve been so brave about it, Ma. It must cut you to the heart to know that Pa might be facing a long prison sentence.’

‘I’ve always known it would come to this one day and I feared that we’d end up on the street, but at least I know where my Billy is now, and that he’s safe from the Sykes brothers. It’s small comfort, but when you’ve lived with worry for so many years it’s almost a relief when the worst happens.’

Irene hugged her and dropped a kiss on her mother’s grey hair. ‘I wish I was more like you, Ma.’

‘No, ducks. You are fine as you are and I’m proud of you, even if I don’t tell you so very often.’

Irene blinked hard and swallowed the lump in her throat that threatened to make her bawl like a baby. ‘I love you, Ma, and I don’t say that often enough either.’

‘What a pair of sillies we are to be sure,’
Clara
said, sniffing and fumbling in her pocket for her handkerchief. ‘But we must put up with things as they are until your Pa gets out of jail and we can begin again. It’s just lucky that Emmie showed good sense in accepting Josiah. At least one of my girls is settled, and quite handsomely too. Now all I’ve got to worry about is you.’

‘You mustn’t, Ma. You concentrate on getting yourself fit and well. I can look after meself, and one day we’ll have a nice house to live in, just like this or better. I can’t do much about it at present, but give me time and I’ll get us back on our feet, you’ll see.’

‘I believe you, love,’ Clara said, mopping her eyes and becoming brisk and businesslike. ‘But first things first. Let’s see you in one of Emmie’s cast-offs. She said she don’t want any of them back, and at the rate she’s eating for two, I doubt if she’ll ever get into them again anyway.’

The gown of fine merino wool in a shade of dark blue fitted Irene’s slender figure as if it had been made for her. On Ma’s instructions, she piled her hair high on her head and fastened it with two tortoiseshell combs that Emmie had also thoughtfully provided. Irene was not ungrateful, but she realised that this apparent generosity on her sister’s part was fuelled by the need to keep Josiah happy. Irene
had
sensed from the moment she first met him that Josiah Tippet was a social climber, and now she was to be included in his outward display of familial respectability, which must never be tarnished by scandal. It was going to be a hard part to play, but for the time being she must try to act like a lady.

Downstairs in the morning parlour, Irene discovered Emmie sitting by the fire with her head bent over an embroidery hoop and her tongue gripped between her teeth as she stabbed the linen with a needle. She looked up with a start as the door opened and yelped with pain. ‘Ouch! You made me prick my finger,’ she mumbled, sucking her injured digit.

Ignoring this ungracious welcome, Irene did a twirl. ‘How do I look?’

‘Very nice,’ Emmie said, examining her finger for traces of blood. ‘It’s not fair to remind me that I wore that gown just months ago.’

‘And you will again, love.’ Clara hobbled over to the sofa and sank down onto the crimson velvet which was stretched over the horsehair stuffing like the skin of a drum.

‘I shan’t ever wear it again. When baby is born I intend to make Josiah buy me a whole new wardrobe, which is the least he can do for me after I’ve gone through all this hideous discomfort. Anyway, what’s the use of being
married
to a draper if I can’t have new clothes every season?’ Emmie tossed her embroidery aside and reached for a copy of a fashion journal. ‘He likes me to look smart, and I intend to be a credit to the name of Tippet.’ She glanced up at Irene, frowning. ‘And you’re not to let us down, d’you hear me, Renie? Don’t even think about paying Pa a visit in prison, and you must keep away from anyone and anything that has to do with that dreadful Sykes gang. We’re respectable people now; just you remember that.’