The Urchin's Song (23 page)

‘I return to London tomorrow.’ At least, that had been his original idea. Now he wasn’t so sure.

Vera nodded. He was one of these agent types and not a poor one either, and he’d sought her lass out. And at just the right time. She agreed with Gertie on the quiet over this; Josie needed to spread her wings.

‘I had been hoping . . .’ Oliver allowed himself a moment’s hesitation, having decided on the strategy he was going to employ. ‘But this is clearly a difficult time.’ He turned his head, looking straight at Josie now who had just seated herself at the kitchen table. ‘I had been hoping to discuss a business proposition with you, Miss Burns. Perhaps over dinner? And of course your family are most welcome to join us,’ he added with a winsome smile at Vera. He wasn’t dealing with a brash young thing here and poor as they obviously were, he sensed the proprieties would be expected to be upheld. Indeed, the working class were fiercer on that sort of thing than the middle and upper classes, from what he could make out. Certainly with regard to their women. Well, he’d play the game. He turned back to Josie, and the wide, heavily lashed eyes were waiting for him, causing his pulse to leap. Oh yes, he would play the game.

Strangely, the whirl Josie’s mind had been in - first due to the shock of Barney’s unspoken declaration and then Oliver Hogarth’s sudden appearance - had cleared in the last moments. She knew why Oliver was here, of course; Lily had been explicit on that - he wanted to become her agent. And Barney? She didn’t know what he wanted, she only knew she needed to get as far away from him as possible. He was married. To Pearl. He shouldn’t have looked at her like that, he shouldn’t. The beating of her heart was loud in her ears. It was wrong, and this feeling she had for him was wrong - this secret, guilty feeling that had been with her since the night he had rescued her from her da and Patrick Duffy, and which had grown relentlessly in the following years despite all her efforts to destroy it.

She knew Barney’s eyes were hard on her face when she smiled at Oliver, and said quietly, her voice level and low, ‘My sister and I - you met her that night outside the theatre? - would be pleased to have dinner with you, Mr Hogarth. My . . . my situation has changed considerably since we last met due to my mother’s passing. Until now I have always felt restricted to working in the north-east.’

‘I see.’ Oliver forced himself to show no sign of the surge of excitement that made him want to grin from ear to ear. ‘I am, of course, sorry to hear of your loss, but there is no doubt the London stage would benefit from your presence, Miss Burns.’

Smarmy blighter.
Barney’s teeth were clenched, his jaw rigid. The London stage. So that was the carrot he was dangling under her nose, was it? And he had business in these parts, did he? Business be damned. The only business Hogarth was interested in was Josie. He swallowed deeply, his voice brusque as he said, ‘This old friend you’re up to see, wonder if I know him?’

‘You?’ There was no animosity in Oliver’s tone, merely surprise that a miner’s son should think they might have a common acquaintance.

‘Aye. I’m in the business - under-manager at Ginnett’s in Newcastle,’ Barney said, before Josie, her face straight now and her tone cool, said, ‘I think Mr Hogarth’s business here is his own affair, don’t you?’ and before Barney could reply one way or the other, added, ‘Another cup of tea, Mr Hogarth?’

‘No, thank you.’ Oliver smiled as he spoke, even as his mind was saying, So that’s it. He wants her. This great lout of a man wants her. Does she want him? He is good-looking enough and young. Nearer her age . . . He rose to his feet somewhat abruptly, saying, ‘I must apologise again for delaying you, Mrs Briggs, but the tea was most welcome. Thank you for your kindness.’

‘Oh, it’s nowt, lad.’ Vera had been thrown off-balance by the tense atmosphere in her kitchen as her reply indicated, and she hastily added, her face flushed, ‘It was very nice to meet you,’ in a primmer tone.

When, in the next moment, the front door opened and Gertie’s voice called, ‘There’s a carriage outside! What’s goin’ on?’ the interruption came as a relief to more than Vera. ‘Oh!’ Gertie stopped at the doorway, her eyes taking in the assembled company and widening at the sight of Oliver.

‘Hello, lass.’ Vera bustled forward, quickly explaining the reason for Barney and Amos’s presence before she added, ‘An’ this is Mr Hogarth up from London.’

‘We have met briefly,’ Oliver said smoothly, nodding at Gertie before he added, speaking specifically to the small girl in the doorway, ‘I was visiting a colleague, Miss Burns, who happened to mention your sister’s name. A fortuitous coincidence after our meeting in Hartlepool.’

He wasn’t going to give her away. Gertie smiled at Oliver, her eyes bright, and if he had but known it, he’d won a friend. ‘It’s nice to see you again,’ she said circumspectly.

‘You’ll be seeing me a little later, too. Your sister has accepted an invitation to dinner on behalf of you both.’

She had? Gertie regarded him steadily as her smile widened. London, here we come. There was nothing to stop them now, and she had the feeling Oliver Hogarth was a man who would let nothing stand in his way when he wanted something. And his presence here today proved he wanted Josie.

Certainly she, for one, wouldn’t be sorry to leave Sunderland. Several times lately, starting at her mam’s funeral, she’d had a funny prickly feeling on the back of her neck and found herself looking around her, and today it had been stronger than ever. She’d actually found her heart pounding as she’d walked home along Borough Road, and by the time she’d got to Church Street East she’d thought twice about taking the path at the back of the church which was a bit more lonely. Likely she was being daft. As she listened to Oliver arranging to meet them after Josie’s last evening performance, Gertie shivered. Aye, likely she was, but she’d pack her bags this very minute if she could, and that was the truth.

 

It was late when Barney eventually let himself into the imposing hall of the house in Windsor Terrace, and he stood for a moment just looking around him as though he was a stranger in the place. But that was how he felt at heart about this house. Pearl had spent a lot of thought and time on furnishing the downstairs of the house and their bedroom - her bedroom now - but the other three bedrooms had been empty until he had moved into one of them, and then all he had required was a bed and a wardrobe. Four bedrooms for the two of them when whole families lived in one room! Why had he agreed to move from St James Street? And then he answered himself bitterly. Why ask the road you know? He had still hoped then, deep in the heart of him, that somehow he and Pearl could learn to live together. She’d insisted this house was her dream house, that she’d never ask him for another thing if they could move here, and a tiny part of him which had longed for peace - just peace, nothing else - had thought it might make her happy. And for a time she had seemed more contented. But it hadn’t lasted and it certainly hadn’t made her softer towards him.

There was Betty back in Spring Garden Lane, consumed with grief over his da to the point where it had been painful to look into her face, and yet other couples, like him and Pearl most likely, would continue down the years and into old age together but in a state of semi-hostility. Life was damn ironic. Barney felt the tidal wave of grief for his da which had been threatening to overwhelm him all day sweep in with renewed intensity, and he fought it frantically. He couldn’t give way now, not until he was in his bed and there was no chance of Pearl surprising him. Somehow he’d rather walk barefoot through burning coals for the rest of his days than let Pearl see him cry.

And then, as though the thought of her had conjured her up, his wife stepped into the hall from the sitting room. Pearl looked poised and calm as she stared at him for a moment, but Barney saw the tightness of her mouth and the faint flush staining the creamy skin of her neck and he knew she was het up about something. ‘I thought I heard the door.’ Her voice was clipped and cold. ‘Did you really have to take so long? It’s gone eleven.’

‘I’m aware of the time.’ He had long since given up trying to pacify her when she was in one of her moods.

So that was the tack he was going to take, was it? Pearl’s light blue eyes were icy cold. She’d had to cancel a dinner-party she’d been looking forward to for weeks just because Barney had insisted on accompanying his brother to Betty’s sister’s house. And it hadn’t really been necessary. Amos could have used the train or hired a carriage himself. Pearl chose to ignore that either option would have stretched Amos’s limited income to the limit. Barney must think she was stupid if he didn’t realise she knew the reason he’d gone to Vera’s: it had been to see Josie. She had warned him, when she’d refused to go to Josie’s mother’s funeral with him, that if he went she’d make his life hell. And he had merely answered that he would have to care about her for that to be a reality, but as it was she could do whatever she liked, and he was going to Shirley’s funeral with or without her. And gone he had.

Pearl drew her small tight body upwards. ‘So, you’ve finished with your gallivanting for one evening?’ she said testily. ‘Now you’ve managed to ruin the evening for me. Had a nice cosy chat with her, did you?’

‘Her?’ For a moment Barney thought Pearl meant Vera before the penny dropped, and then his voice was loud when he said, ‘What’s the matter with you, woman? I went to tell Vera me da had been killed. Me
da
, Pearl! Doesn’t that mean anything to you?’

Pearl glared at him, and then she knew she’d gone too far when she said, ‘No, it doesn’t, if you want the truth.’

He’d hang for her before he was finished. It took Barney a full thirty seconds before he could master the hot fury her words had caused, and in that time he dared not move. He knew he wouldn’t be responsible for what he might do to her, should she say or do anything. She was fond of the caustic one-liners, Pearl, and she delivered them with venom, but more often than not Prudence was round here of an evening and so he tended to direct most of his conversation at his sister before he retired, often before Prudence went home. It was ironic, when you thought about it, the number of times he had thanked God for Prudence’s presence at the house in the evenings, and not just as a buffer between him and his wife either. Prudence talked sense and she kept up with the political and social events in a way Pearl was incapable of.

But Prudence wasn’t here tonight and he had to go carefully. He had never yet raised his hand to a woman but he’d come damn near the night. One more word out of her, one more disdainful glance from those soulless clear eyes of hers when she talked about his da . . .

But Pearl had seen what was in her husband’s eyes and she remained as still as he was, and she still stood there for some moments more after Barney had turned on his heel and left the room.

Sitting in front of the long dressing-room mirror at the Palace Theatre as Gertie arranged her hair in elaborate curls and waves on top of her head, Josie could hardly believe the two of them were off to London the next day.

It didn’t seem as though five weeks had passed since she had promised Oliver Hogarth she would join him in the capital once her contracts here were finished. The time had just flown by.

Of course, there had been Frank’s funeral. That had been harrowing for more than one reason. All the family had been there apart from Pearl, and when Josie had looked across and seen Barney standing all alone at the graveside, his face torn by grief, she’d remembered what he’d confided all those years ago during one of their long chats. His da had been disappointed in him, he’d said, adding that if there was any way he could have managed to work underground he would have done it - just for Frank’s sake. ‘Me da felt he lost face with some of the other blokes.’ Barney’s eyes had been fixed on the glowing coals in the range but the pain in his voice had told her what he was thinking. ‘And he’s never been the same with me since. He don’t mean to be different, I know that, but somehow that makes it worse.’

She’d reached out and taken his hand at the time, giving it a comforting squeeze because words seemed inadequate, and at the funeral, when she’d watched him standing stiff and rigid as he had tried to hold on to his control, she’d walked across and done the same thing. In that moment she hadn’t cared about what anyone else thought - if they had thought anything at all; she had just known Barney was hurting, and badly, and she hadn’t been able to stand by and do nothing.

He had gripped her hand as though it was a lifeline but although his jaw had contracted he’d said nothing, continuing to stare straight ahead as the gravediggers had heaped dirt into the gaping hole in the ground into which the coffin had been lowered a minute or two earlier.

Later, at Betty’s little home where family and friends had gathered, Josie saw Prudence walk across to Barney who was standing looking out of the window into the small back yard. The girl had put her hand on his sleeve and said something, her face earnest, and whatever it was, it had seemed to bring a measure of comfort to his face. Three months after Josie had left Newcastle, Betty had told her Prudence had eaten humble pie as far as her brother was concerned and asked his forgiveness for her part in the attack at the house; somewhat reluctantly on Barney’s part apparently, the two had begun speaking again. Betty had commented that this had been a means to an end as far as Prudence was concerned; she reckoned her stepdaughter’s prime concern had been to make things easier for her and Pearl to continue their friendship as before, but Josie wasn’t so sure. If Prudence had genuine love and respect for anyone it was her brother, she felt, and the withdrawal of his companionship must have been a bitter blow to the girl. She didn’t like Prudence - she would never be able to like her - but in her better moments she did feel sorry for Barney’s sister, and she had no wish for a family feud to continue because of her.