The Long Walk Home (13 page)

'Haven't you got a mother?' Mikey asked, thinking how horrified his own mother would have been. The only punishment she ever meted out to him and his brothers was the sharp end of her tongue. 'Won't she be worried about you?'

Simon swallowed and blinked, and when he spoke again his voice cracked. 'I expect she will be, but she's afraid of my father. He wouldn't beat her, of course,' he added hastily. 'He doesn't beat women; though he locked my sister in a cupboard for speaking to me when I was sent to Coventry. But he would find a way of punishing my mother if he thought she was favouring me.'

Seems to me that there's not much difference between rich and poor if you're in a family like that, Bridget thought. Her father was a bully and her mother always had to appease him, whilst the children kept out of his way, especially when he was drunk. Perhaps Simon's father drinks a lot, like mine, and that's why he beats him.

My father wouldn't have beaten me if he'd been alive, Mikey thought. Not to make my hands bleed like his. Ma said Da was a good man. She allus said that; but even if he had done, Ma would have stuck up for me— for all of us. She wouldn't have allowed anybody to bully us, but neither would I have run away and left her to face such a man by herself. Simon's ma must be very frightened on her own. Seems to me that it's harder being rich than it is to be poor.

Simon hoisted his knapsack further up his back. He thought that he was luckier than the other two. He had a clean pair of socks and another pair of trousers in his pack, whereas they were a scruffy-looking couple and carried no luggage. Not two halfpennies to scratch together, I bet, he surmised. He had enough money for food and lodgings, though the accommodation last night had cost more than he had anticipated. London was where he was bound and he considered himself fortunate to have company for the journey. It's safer to travel with someone else, he thought, but I'll ditch them as soon as we arrive.

Tempers had been simmering for days. Each nightfall, or even before it was dark if they were very tired, Mikey and Bridget would search about for somewhere to sleep— a shop doorway, beside a brick wall or even beneath a tree if it was dry— whereas Simon would sidle away, murmuring that he was going to take a look round. He wouldn't come back until the next morning when he would reappear looking clean and refreshed.

'He's stopping somewhere,' Bridget grumbled as they watched him amble off early one evening. 'He's got some money but he's not sharing it wi' us.'

'That's what I think,' Mikey said. 'Not much of a pal, is he?' Then he grinned at Bridget. 'Not like you, using your money to buy food for both of us.'

She shrugged. 'But we knew each other before, didn't we? Perhaps he doesn't trust us.'

'Mebbe,' Mikey said thoughtfully. He got up from where they were sitting by a bridge in a village. 'Come on,' he said. 'Let's be off.'

'What? I'm tired,' Bridget complained. 'We've been walking all day. Besides, what about him?' She jerked her head to where Simon was heading down the village street.

'We'll not go far,' Mikey said. 'Just a couple o' miles to 'next town or village. And we'll let him find us. See how he likes being on his own.'

'All right,' she said. 'Serve him right.'

They walked down the road for another two or three miles, travelling through dense woodland and coming to the town of Retford, which was split in half by a river. There was a market fair in the town square and many of the traders were packing up for the night. Some of the stalls had been selling food cooked on braziers whose coals were now burning low.

'Come on, young feller, and you, young lady,' a stallholder called to them. 'Last of the sausages and bacon. Don't let 'em go to waste.'

'No money.' Mikey walked up to him. 'Can I do any jobs for you to pay for 'em?'

'You can help me pack up if you like. I'm moving on tonight. Help me strip down the stall and you can have what's left.'

'What can I do?' Bridget said eagerly. 'Can I help? I'm starving!'

'Starving! You don't know what starving is. All them curves on you.' He winked. 'I can see you've been well fed.'

'Shall I try to drum up some customers?' She smiled at him, dimpling her cheeks.

'Aye, you can do. Save some for the two of you, but there's hot meat pies left, and a pan o' peas.'

Bridget cleared her throat. The smell of the food was making her salivate. 'Come on, folks,' she called to passers-by. 'Special price, don't miss a bargain. Hot pies and peas for supper! Warm bread cakes.' She'd noticed the bread in a basket and put some to heat up by the brazier, keeping the rest on one side for her and Mikey.

A group of soldiers came along and she called to them. 'Come on, lads, what do you fancy?'

'Well, I wouldn't mind a kiss,' one of them grinned. 'How much for a kiss?'

'More'n you can afford,' she teased.

'Go on,' he said, egged on by his companions. 'How much?'

'A tanner then,' she said and held her cheek towards him. 'Let's see your money first.'

He fished in his trouser pocket and brought out a shilling. 'Two kisses please,' he said, rather sheepish now as his friends hooted.

She allowed him to kiss her on each cheek and then she smiled and kissed him on the mouth. He was a good-looking fellow, she thought, and it was no hardship.

He pretended to swoon and then put his hand in his pocket again and brought out sixpence. 'Now I'll have a bacon sandwich,' he said huskily. 'You've given me an appetite.'

'But for what!' one of his fellows exclaimed, then he too put his hand in his pocket for a sixpence.

'Bacon sandwich?' she enquired saucily.

'A kiss,' he said, and put out his arms.

She was glad that the brazier was between them, for this soldier had a gleam in his eye. She leaned her cheek towards him, taking his sixpence as she did so. 'That's it,' she said. 'I'm right out of kisses now. Onny hot pies and bacon left.'

They all bought something, all anxious to persuade her to give them the pleasure of her company, until she finally said, 'That's it, lads. Nowt left now. All 'rest is for our supper.'

'Who's yon feller?' one of them asked. 'Is he with you?'

She nodded. 'Yeh. My brother. We're mekking our way to London. Going to seek our fortune.'

One of the soldiers leaned towards her and whispered, 'You'd make it quicker without him, darling.' He winked. 'Could make a fortune all of your own.'

She smiled sweetly. 'But all my other brothers would come after me,' she said. 'And they're all huge.' She lifted her hands on either side of her shoulders to indicate their size. 'I just couldn't risk it.' She blew them all a kiss and turned away.

The stallholder gave Mikey sixpence for helping him, and when Bridget handed over the money for the sales she had made he was well pleased. 'Here,' he said, giving her a copper. 'And finish what's left of the food. It won't keep, and I only cook fresh.'

Bridget piled bacon into the bread cakes and they ate the last few sausages with their fingers, then Mikey asked the trader if he knew where they could get a cheap bed for the night.

'Try Granny Hargreaves,' he said. 'She'll put you up if she has a spare bed.'

He told them where to find the landlady and, with all of his belongings packed in a handcart, he trundled away, calling out his thanks. They grinned at each other, feeling satisfied with the food and with earning it, and set off to find the lodgings.

The terraced cottage was down a narrow lane. A low light was burning in the window and the door was slightly ajar.

Bridget knocked. 'Is anybody there?' she called through the gap. 'Is this Granny Hargreaves's house?'

'Who is it?' an old querulous voice wavered. 'Are you selling summat?'

'No,' Bridget answered. 'One of 'market traders said you might have lodgings, just for tonight.'

'Come in. Come in,' the woman called. 'I can't get up, me back's gone.'

They walked into the dim room. The lamp in the window was the only light, as the fire had burned low. An old woman was sitting by it with a shawl round her shoulders.

'Can you turn the lamp up a bit?' she said. 'Not too much,' she added sharply as Mikey turned the wheel. 'I'm not made o' brass. Now then.' She peered at them. 'Who are you? Do I know you?'

'You don't know us, but we were recommended to come to you,' Bridget said. 'We need beds for tonight.'

'I've one spare, but I can't get up to make it. You'll have to get 'blanket out of the box yourself.'

'Where will you sleep, Mrs Hargreaves?' Mikey ventured. 'Can't you get into bed?'

'No, I can't. Not unless somebody helps me. I'm stuck in this chair till morning when me daughter comes.'

'We'll help you,' Bridget put on her sweetest voice. 'Won't we, Mikey?'

'Mikey?' Mrs Hargreaves said sharply. 'Is that a young fellow? I'll not have a young fellow helping me into bed!'

'I can help you out of 'chair though, can't I?' Mikey said. 'And I'll mend 'fire if you'll tell me where 'coal or wood is.'

'Ah. Well, that's how me back went, you see,' she said. 'I was shovelling a bucket o' coal and I felt it go. I got inside to me chair but then couldn't get up. I'm dying for 'privy 'n' all.'

Bridget pulled a face behind Mrs Hargreaves's back. This wasn't what she'd expected, but at least they were inside with a promise of at least one bed for the night.

Together they helped the old lady out of the chair and got her to the back door. 'I'll not mek it to the bottom of the garden,' she wailed. 'You'll have to fetch me a pail.'

Mikey turned away with a grin as Bridget ran off to fetch a pail as instructed. He picked up the poker and riddled the fire, bringing the coals to life, and thought that to sleep on the rug in front of it would be luxury. When Bridget and Granny Hargreaves came back into the room, he said, 'I'll fetch some coal and wood in, shall I? You'll want to keep 'fire in overnight?'

'Aye, I will.' The old lady gave a relieved sigh. 'I charge, you know, for a bed. You can't stop for nowt.'

'We realize that,' Bridget said softly. 'But we don't have much money. Onny what we earned from 'stallholder.'

'Was it the hot pie man?' she asked. 'He sometimes sends folk to me.'

'Yes,' Mikey said. 'He said you were 'best and wouldn't rob us.'

'Did he?' The old woman wrinkled her nose. 'Aye, well, I do a good turn now and again, if I'm treated right.'

'I'll help you into bed, if you like, Mrs Hargreaves,' Bridget said. 'Can me brother sleep on 'floor?'

'Your brother, is it?' the old woman said. 'Well, he can share your bed if you've a mind.'

'No,' Mikey said swiftly. 'We're too old for that. Not like when we were bairns.'

'Where you from?' she asked. 'You're not local.'

'We're from Hull,' Bridget answered. 'But we're on our way to London.'

'Ah, you young folk,' Mrs Hargreaves grunted. 'You all think London's paved wi' gold. But it's not, you know. You'll not find owt different from what you've had at home. But there you are, you'll not be told. Help me into bed,' she said to Bridget. 'And then you can take 'truckle bed. You'll find a blanket each. But there's no food, mind. I onny do bed, not board. But you can make a hot drink if you like. And I'll have one as well.'

They assured her they didn't need food, and after she was tucked in to her cot in an alcove behind a curtain Bridget filled the kettle from the outside pump and swung it over the fire whilst Mikey loaded two coal scuttles and brought in a pile of wood, which he placed in the hearth.

'What luxury!' He stretched his arms above his head and then sat cross-legged on the floor. 'I'll sleep like a log tonight.'

Bridget was searching in a cupboard. 'There's some cocoa,' she said. 'Shall I mek that instead of tea?'

Mikey agreed and she soon had three steaming cups of cocoa ready. She took one to Granny Hargreaves, but came straight back from behind the curtain, whispering, 'She's asleep already. We'll have to share this.'

'No hardship,' Mikey said quietly, with frothy cocoa over his mouth. 'She's very trusting, isn't she? We're complete strangers and yet she's let us into her house.'

Bridget glanced round. 'She's not got much to steal, has she?'

'Mebbe not,' Mikey said. 'But even so, she's willing to share it.'

'Yes,' Bridget said thoughtfully. 'Not like Simon, who's keeping whatever he's got to himself.'

They were both instantly asleep, Bridget on the truckle and Mikey on the rug, and neither woke until someone opened the front door.

'Who are you?' A woman stood over them. 'Where's my ma?'

Mikey sat up, rubbing his eyes. 'Lodgers,' he mumbled. 'Granny Hargreaves is in bed.'

Bridget murmured something and turned over, falling asleep again.

'I'm in here,' Mrs Hargreaves called out. 'Where do you think I am?'

'I've telled you before, Ma,' the woman said, opening the bed curtain. 'You shouldn't let strangers into the house. You'll be robbed and murdered in your bed.'

'Course I won't,' the old woman spluttered. 'They were recommended anyway. Hot pie man sent 'em.'

'Oh, well that's all right then,' her daughter said sarcastically. 'And I expect they've eaten all your bread and drunk your tea.'

Bridget sat up and gazed sleepily at the woman. 'No,' she said huskily. 'We had a drink o' cocoa, that's all, and I washed 'cups up,' she added. 'We onny needed a bed for 'night. We're on our way to London.'

'Are you?' she answered sharply. 'Well, if you see my lad, send him home, will you?'

Bridget nodded. 'What's his name?'

The woman gave a grim laugh. 'It's a big place is London. You're hardly likely to meet him.'

'We might,' Bridget said. 'What's his name?'

'Tony. Anthony Manners,' she said. 'Tell him I need him back here sharpish!'

They paid Granny Hargreaves sixpence, which was all she wanted. She said they had saved her life by getting her to bed and because Mikey had filled two coal hods for her. 'Call again,' she said, 'and welcome.'

They wandered round the town, killing time to give Simon chance to catch them up, but by eight o'clock he hadn't come so they decided to move on.