Tilly True (22 page)

‘I got to get back to the vicarage, Pops.'

‘Tilly's going to live in a bishop's palace, Ned.' Nellie's face creased into a network of lines as her lips curved into a smile. ‘The Reverend Palgrave is going to be made up to a bishop.'

‘So he's not going to be a missionary, then?'

Caught in her own web of deceit, Tilly knew she had gone too far this time. ‘It's not definite, Pops. I'll let you know when it is.' Standing on tiptoe, she kissed Ned's weathered cheek. ‘Now I got to go.'

‘You will come again soon, ducks.' Nellie clasped Tilly's hand. ‘And you'll come to the wedding.'

‘I will. Now I really have to go.' Hugging her mother and patting Jim and Dan on the head, Tilly stepped over Winnie's outstretched legs and was immediately grabbed by Lizzie, who leapt to her feet, dropping the newspaper on the floor. Hugging and kissing the girls, Tilly had quite a tussle to disentangle herself from Winnie and Lizzie who clamoured to know when she would be coming to see them again. Eventually, succeeding in tearing herself away, Tilly joined Clem who was waiting patiently outside. He handed her onto the cart and climbed up beside her without saying a word. Flicking the whip, he urged Neptune to a shambling walk.

‘Cat got your tongue?' With her nerves already stretched to near breaking point, Tilly was acutely conscious of the barrier of silence between them.

Clem's profile was set in stern lines as he stared at the road ahead. ‘Why do you make up all them stories?'

‘I dunno what you're talking about.'

‘Yes, you do. You was telling your folks that you was going to live in a bishop's palace.'

‘How do you know I'm not?'

‘Common sense, that's how. Your Reverend has been given the poorest and roughest parish in the East End. I don't know nothing about the workings of the Church, but it don't seem to me like the next step would be a bishop's palace.'

‘That's all you know.'

‘And what about India?'

‘It's none of your business.' Gathering up her skirts, Tilly was about to leap off the moving cart but Clem's hand shot out and closed round her wrist. ‘Let go of me, Clem Tuffin. I'd rather walk than sit here and be lectured by the likes of you.'

‘Sit tight or you'll break your neck.'

‘Set me down and I'll walk.'

‘I'm taking you home and that's that.' Turning his head to look at her, Clem's expression softened. ‘You're a stubborn mule and you tell bigger lies than Tom Pepper and we all know what happened to him.'

‘Tom Pepper?' Intrigued, Tilly forgot to be angry. ‘What did happen to him?'

Chuckling, Clem tapped the side of his nose. ‘I'll tell you one day, but not now.'

‘See if I care.' Glancing at him beneath her eyelashes, Tilly saw that he was still smiling. Folding her hands in her lap, she decided that a dignified silence was the best method of dealing with a young man who had the uncomfortable ability to read her mind.

Although it was still early evening, the sun was setting in the west, glinting off the windows on the top floors of tall buildings, and as they left Whitechapel, crossing Cable Street towards the docks in Wapping, the maze of narrow streets dissolved into purple shadows. Suddenly, and without warning, a group of ragged men sprang out of a doorway, dashing into the road and grabbing Neptune's bridle.

Clamping her hand over her mouth to stifle a scream, Tilly instinctively moved closer to Clem.

‘Turn out your pockets.' The tallest of them sprang onto the cart beside Tilly, grabbing her round the waist and holding his filthy hand out to Clem. ‘Hand it over, mate, and your totty won't get hurt.'

‘Let go of me,' Tilly cried, struggling and slapping out with her hands. The rancid odour of his unwashed body and stinking breath made her want to retch, but she dug her elbows into his ribs and he loosened his grip, winded.

Lunging across Tilly and delivering a swift right hook, Clem caught the man under the chin with a blow that lifted him clean off his feet and sent him crashing down onto the pavement. Turning with one fluid movement, Clem caught the next assailant with a clout on the side of his head, sending him sprawling.

‘Anyone else want a bunch of fives?' Standing in the well of the cart, Clem fisted his hands, daring the two still standing to take him on. One of them backed off but the other clung to Neptune's bridle, making the animal whinny in fright and rear in the shafts. Seizing the horsewhip, Clem flicked his wrist, catching the man round the ear with the leather tip, which had the desired effect of forcing him to leave go of the bridle.

‘Clear off, the lot of you, and think yourselves lucky I don't call the coppers,' Clem shouted, steadying Neptune with the reins.

Still holding his jaw, the first man got to his feet scowling. ‘Yeah, as if the rozzers dare show their ugly mugs round here. I'll set the whole of the Old Stairs gang on you, I will.'

‘You'll steer clear of the gangs, mate, if you know what's good for you.' Clicking his tongue against his cheek, Clem urged the frightened horse forward. As they left their assailants far behind, he cast Tilly a concerned look. ‘You all right, Tilly?'

She was shaking from head to foot, but she was not going to admit that she had been scared out of her wits. ‘I – I'm fine.'

‘You see why I wouldn't let you walk home alone. This is a bad place. It ain't the sort of area for a young woman to walk the streets in daytime, let alone at night.'

‘Yes, all right, you made your point. And thanks, Clem.'

It was almost dark by the time Clem drew Neptune to a halt outside the vicarage and the churchyard echoed with the noisy chatter of roosting starlings. Bats zoomed crazily overhead, and even though the May evening was balmy Tilly couldn't help shivering as she turned the key in the lock.

‘Don't look like there's anyone at home,' Clem said, coming up behind her. ‘I'd best see you safe indoors.'

Stepping inside the hall, Tilly realised that they were quite alone and was suddenly nervous. ‘Shouldn't you be getting back to your dad? He'll be wanting to go home.'

‘Not he. I bet he's taken your old man down to the pub for a few beers to celebrate. Here, let me do that for you.' Producing a box of Vestas from his pocket, Clem lit the paraffin lamp on the hall table. ‘Seems there's no one in. I'd best check the rest of the house, just in case.'

Tilly hesitated, torn between wanting him to leave and yet not wishing to be left on her own. In the yellow light cast by the lamp, their shadows did a macabre dance on the walls; the smell of sulphur from the match and burning paraffin only added to the infernal atmosphere of the eerily silent house.

‘Ta, but you'd best be off. The Reverend and Miss Hattie will be home soon.' Taking the lamp from him, Tilly backed away towards the kitchen. It was difficult to trust a Tuffin and perhaps, deep down, Clem was little better than his father. She turned on her heel and hurried down the narrow passage. Clem's footsteps echoed on the flagstones as he followed her.

‘Mrs Mabb should still be here. I told her to wait and keep the range going. Miss Hattie and the Reverend will want a hot meal after their long journey.' Flinging the kitchen door open, Tilly entered the room to find it empty and in darkness. The fire had gone out and there was no tempting aroma of the oxtail stew that should have been simmering away in the oven.

‘Not a reliable sort, is she?' Clem went about the room, opening and closing doors.

‘There's no one lurking, Clem,' Tilly said, setting the lamp down on the table. ‘I'm very grateful to you but I can manage on my own, thank you.'

Clem stopped, giving her an appraising look. ‘You caught on to their lingo quick enough, Tilly. You're starting to talk like a toff.'

‘Rubbish. I'm just the same as I always was.' Embarrassed, she couldn't meet his steady gaze.

‘That's right, you are. Don't get led astray by the gentry; they'll drop you soon enough if it suits them.'

‘What do you care?' Seeing the eager look in Clem's hazel eyes, Tilly caught her breath, realising her mistake. ‘I mean, it's none of your business. I can take care of myself.'

Skirting the table in rapid steps, Clem seized Tilly's hands before she could move away. ‘That's just it, Tilly. You do need someone to look after you. Someone to care about you and want the best for you.'

‘And I suppose you think that's you?' She hadn't meant to be cruel, but she could see by the shuttered look in Clem's eyes that she had hurt him. Biting her lip, all fear gone, she gave his hands a gentle squeeze. ‘You've been good to me; don't think I don't appreciate it.'

Clem's grip on her hands tightened and he looked deep into her eyes. ‘I could have killed the old man for what he done to you and I ain't never forgiven him for it.'

‘He never went all the way. He was too drunk, and that was your doing, wasn't it?'

‘I got him well and truly sozzled. I knew what the old goat was up to and I couldn't bear the thought of him having you like that, or any other way.'

Deeply touched, Tilly kissed him on the cheek. ‘Ta, Clem. I'm really grateful. You're a good bloke.'

A spark of hope gleamed in Clem's eyes. ‘I love you, Tilly.'

‘No, you don't.' The moment the words had left her lips, Tilly regretted that she had uttered them. Clem could not have looked more distressed if she had slapped his face. Squeezing his hands, she managed a wobbly smile. ‘You don't really know me.'

‘I know you better than you knows yourself and I do love you – with all me heart, I love you.'

Wrenching her hands free, Tilly shook her head. ‘Please don't.'

‘I want to take care of you, Tilly. I wants to marry you, girl.'

‘I can't. I mean, I'm sorry. I don't love you, Clem.'

‘But you might, given time?'

‘You're a good chap, for a Tuffin, but I don't want to get hitched to anyone.' Tilly tried to lighten the moment with a smile, but Clem's anguish was written all over his face and she looked away. ‘I got ambitions. I don't want a life like my mum's, working myself to the bone, having kids one after the other. I want more, can't you understand that?'

‘You spent so much of your time daydreaming that you can't make out what's real and what's not. You made up so many stories that you really believe them.'

‘That's not fair and it's not true.'

Anger flashed in Clem's eyes. ‘It's true all right, and you ain't doing yourself no favours hanging on to these people. That bloke what left you in a brothel and his sermonising brother and sister what's turned you into their slave.'

‘You take that back.'

‘I won't. It's the truth but you won't admit it.'

Tilly opened her mouth to defend Barney, but the dreadful memory of the rape she had suffered at the hands of Stanley Blessed flashed through her mind. Barney had placed her in jeopardy when he ran away, leaving her with the woman who by her own admission had been his mistress. As a result of that rape she might have been burdened with an unwanted pregnancy, but at least fate had spared her that particular shame. And now Clem was asking her to believe that he loved her; wanting her to trust him and to place her life in his hands. When all was said and done, Clem was still his father's son. Shaking her head, Tilly pushed him away. ‘You're a Tuffin. I'd be mortal ashamed of that if I was you. I wouldn't take that name, not if you gave me a hundred golden sovs. You get out of here, Clem Tuffin. Go away, back to your pigsty and your brute of an old man.'

‘I'm going, but I'm not giving up.'

‘Now who's living in a dream? I told you I wouldn't go with you, not if you was the last man on earth.'

‘You can't get rid of me that easy. I'll make you proud of me, you see if I don't.'

‘You're all words from your arse to your mouth. Weren't you going to join the army? You never done it though, did you?'

‘I didn't want to leave you to fend for yourself.'

‘Well, I'm telling you now that I don't need you. Go off and be a soldier. Keep out of my way.'

Saying nothing, Clem gave Tilly one long, last look and walked away. She could hear his footsteps echoing along the flagstone passage, the groan of the front door on its hinges and the final slam. Silence.

With her heart thudding against her ribs, her mouth suddenly dry and tears burning the back of her eyes, Tilly stood for a moment, hardly able to believe what had passed between them. Slowly, forcing her feet to move, she went to the fire and began to riddle the ashes, but a loud rapping on the front door made her drop the poker. Taking the lamp from the table, Tilly hurried to answer the impatient knocking. If Clem had returned to apologise then he was in for a good telling off; wrenching the door open, she held the lamp high, her mouth open ready to send him packing.

‘I thought for a moment that you had gone to bed.' Harriet whisked past Tilly, undoing her travelling coat. ‘Francis is paying off the cabby and I couldn't wait for him to unlock the door. I'm so tired and hungry, Tilly. We've had the most extraordinary day.'

Peering into the gloom, Tilly saw Francis striding along the path. There was no sign of Clem, the cart or Neptune.

‘Good evening, Tilly.' Francis brushed past her, handing her his top hat and gloves. She was about to shut the door when another figure loomed out of the darkness, startling her so that she almost dropped the lamp.

‘Hello, Tilly, my pet.'