Tilly True (3 page)

For a moment, Tilly was going to refuse, but recognising a will as strong as her own and hearing the rain slashing against the windowpanes she decided not to waste time arguing.

Harriet hurried into the adjoining room, returning with a navy merino coat, a velour hat and a large black umbrella. ‘Have you got the cab fare, Tilly?'

‘Blimey, miss, I ain't never been in a hired cab in me whole life.'

‘Well, money for the omnibus then?' Harriet picked up her purse and taking out some coins she pressed them into Tilly's hand. ‘I won't hear of you walking all that way in the pouring rain. Take it, just to please me.'

Just to please Harriet, Tilly took the omnibus as far as the Monument and walked the rest of the way, saving a couple of pennies. At three o'clock on a wet January afternoon it was almost dark and the costermongers' barrows in Petticoat Lane, illuminated by naphtha flares, made little islands of light and colour. Wading ankle deep through discarded vegetable matter floating in the gutters, mixed with straw and horse dung, Tilly pushed her way through the jostling crowds. Catching the eye of a saucy young coster selling fruit, she bought an apple from him, parried his cheeky comments and went on her way munching the sweet fruit. Closing her nostrils to the odour of unwashed human bodies, the stench of outdoor privies and the noxious smells from the manufactories that hung in a pall over the city, Tilly dodged down familiar side streets and alleyways making her way home. By the time she reached Red Dragon Passage, not far from the notorious Hanbury Street – the scene, less than ten years ago, of one of the Ripper's horrific murders – Tilly was soaked to the skin and chilled to the bone. Although the lamplighters were busy in the main streets, Red Dragon Passage was neither rich enough nor important enough to warrant investment by the Gaslight and Coke Company. Stumbling over uneven cobblestones in the darkness, Tilly stifled a scream as a black shape shot out of an overflowing drain and scuttled across her feet. The sewer rats in the East End were as big as cats and twice as vicious. If you came across one in the privy, you didn't corner the brute; tales of people attacked and dying from rat bites were legendary. Shuddering, Tilly hurried on, past unlit windows pasted over with old newspapers, and others that sent out flickering ghosts of light from a single candle. The dismal howling of a dog was drowned by the rumbling thunder of a steam train leaving Liverpool Street Station.

The terraced houses in Red Dragon Passage had been built over fifty years ago to house the navvies who flooded into the area to construct the railway system. Old tenements and warehouses had been razed to the ground and red-brick terraces thrown together with little thought to comfort or beauty. The two-up and two-down dwellings lined a street that was barely wide enough to take a handcart. If the residents had so wished, they could have leaned out of the upstairs windows and linked hands with someone in the house opposite. Daylight rarely penetrated as far as the cobbled road surface.

The door of number three Red Dragon Passage was unlocked, as always, and Tilly let herself into the living room, which opened directly off the street. The low ceiling was smoke-blackened, and a coal fire spluttering half-heartedly in the grate was the only source of light. Two little girls, sitting cross-legged on the stone floor, were peeling potatoes and dropping them into a soot-encrusted iron saucepan. They turned their heads as Tilly entered the room and a small, skinny woman erupted from the scullery clutching a saucepan in her hand.

‘Who's that?'

‘Ma, it's me, Tilly.'

‘Tilly!' The girls scrambled to their feet, sending a shower of potato peelings across the floor, hurling themselves at Tilly, demanding to know if she had brought anything for them.

‘Lizzie, Winnie, let me get me breath,' Tilly said, laughing and ruffling their hair.

‘You're wet,' Winnie said, pulling away. ‘You'll catch cold.'

Nellie True put the saucepan down on the table and stood arms akimbo. She wasn't smiling. ‘Don't you dare tell me you've lost your job, Tilly. I got laid off from the mill and your dad's been sick this past three weeks with his chest. The only money coming into the house is the pittance what Emily earns at the laundry and the coppers what the young 'uns make selling matches outside the station.'

Glancing around the room, even allowing for the deep shadows, Tilly could see that the walls were bare of the pictures that had hung there in better days; the brass clock had gone from the mantelpiece, as had the china spill jar and the pair of plaster dogs that Dad had bought on a rare outing to a fair in the Royal Victoria Gardens. It didn't take a genius to work out that everything had been popped at the pawnshop. This wasn't a good moment to break bad news.

‘I got a better offer,' Tilly said, taking off her hat. ‘I just come to visit before I take up me new position.'

Winnie, just nine years old, looked up at her with big, admiring eyes. ‘You going to work for the Queen at the palace?'

Tilly grinned, giving Winnie's hair a playful tug. ‘Not quite, Winnie.'

Nellie eyed her suspiciously. ‘Are you telling the truth, Tilly? I never knew you come home just to be sociable. And if it comes to that, where did you get them new duds?' Nellie fingered the cloth of Harriet's coat, nodding in approval. ‘That's pure merino or I'm a Dutchwoman.'

‘Miss Harriet give it me on account of me getting caught in a shower. She's a real lady, Ma. Her brother is a vicar. Real respectable.'

‘Hmm! Respectable won't put food on the table. How much are they going to pay you?'

Thrusting her hand in her pocket, Tilly brought out the remainder of her bus fare and dropped the pennies on the table. ‘I ain't had me wages yet but that's a bit on account. It'll buy us a bit of supper.'

Poking the coins with her forefinger, Nellie counted them, frowning. ‘I'll send Jim and Dan when they gets back from the station. This won't buy much so let's hope they've had a bit of luck today. You girls get back to peeling them spuds and get them on the fire or we'll be having them for breakfast.'

‘I'll help you,' Tilly said. ‘Fetch another knife, Lizzie, and we'll get it done double quick.'

‘So where's this new position then?' demanded Nellie, slumping down on a bentwood chair at the table. ‘And why did you give up a good job working for that nice Mrs Blessed? I hope you're telling me the truth, my girl.'

Taking the knife from Lizzie, Tilly squatted down on her haunches to help finish off the potatoes. ‘Why would I lie, Ma? You'd soon find me out like you always did.'

‘You and Molly was a pair of little tinkers when you was small.' Nellie's lined face cracked into a smile. ‘She's expecting again, by the way. That'll be her third since she and Artie moved to Poplar. He's got a job in a ship's chandlers.'

‘Three nippers and her a year younger than me.' Tilly dropped a potato into a pan of cold water. Poor Molly; her life was over and that was for sure.

‘I had you when I was fifteen and one almost every year after that,' Nellie said, patting her flat chest with a bony hand. ‘And I never regretted it, not even when the good Lord saw fit to take two of my babies afore they'd even cut a tooth.'

‘I know, Ma, but I don't want my life to end up like that. I want more.'

Nellie sniffed and tut-tutted. ‘You always had big ideas above your station, my girl. I'm just glad that Molly's settled.'

‘And Emily?' Tilly looked to Lizzie for an answer, but Lizzie pulled a face.

‘Emily is stepping out with a gentleman,' Nellie said, puffing out her chest. ‘I expect she'll be next up the aisle.'

Tilly frowned. ‘She's only fourteen.'

‘Nearly fifteen, and her gentleman has a good business and his own house in Duck's Foot Lane, Wapping.'

‘He's old,' whispered Lizzie.

‘And he's got grown-up kids,' added Winnie.

‘You keep your smart remarks to yourselves,' Nellie said. ‘And get them spuds on to boil.'

A thud above their heads and the sound of coughing made Nellie jump to her feet. ‘That'll be your dad waking up. I'll make a pot of tea. I daresay you could do with a cup, Tilly?'

Before Tilly could answer, the front door opened and Emily walked into the room. She stopped dead when she saw Tilly, her pretty face alight with astonishment and delight. ‘Tilly! What a corking surprise.' She flung her arms around her sister, laughing and crying all at the same time.

‘You're a sight for sore eyes, Emmie, and that's the truth,' Tilly said, holding her at arm's length. ‘You've grown up since I last saw you.'

‘And you've come just at the right moment. Bertie's just proposed to me and I've said yes.'

Nellie clapped her hands. ‘No! That's wonderful. Where is he?'

‘Just seeing to his horse,' Emily said, clutching Tilly's arm. ‘I'm so lucky, Tilly. My Bertie's the kindest most generous man in the whole world. You'll love him.'

‘I'm sure I . . .' Tilly stopped dead, her mouth open.

Filling the doorway with his huge bulk was the same carter who earlier that day had been so cruel to his horse. Albert Tuffin strode into the room on a gust of smoke-laden air. ‘Bloody hell!' he said, glaring at Tilly. ‘Look who it ain't.'

Chapter Two

There was a moment's stunned silence and then Emily giggled, slipping her hand through Bert's arm. ‘You didn't say you knew me sister, Bertie.'

‘He don't,' Tilly said, glaring at Bert, daring him to tell the truth. ‘We met in passing this morning.'

‘Harrumph!' Bert's mouth worked as though he would like to say a lot more but Emily was tugging at his arm and looking up to him with open admiration. He pulled his lips back in a smile. ‘That's it. We was just passing by, so to speak.'

‘Oh, well, never mind.' Emily held out her left hand, wiggling her ring finger. ‘Look at me ring, Tilly. Ain't it grand and ain't you pea-green with envy?'

Tilly managed a smile, although behind her back she had her hands clenched, fingernails digging into her palms. ‘It's very pretty, Emmie.'

‘Let me see.' Nellie peered at the ring as Emily thrust her hand under her mother's nose. ‘It's a bit on the small side. What sort of stone is that when it's at home?'

Bert bridled. ‘That's a real diamond I'll have you know, Mrs True. It belonged to my late wife.'

Pushing Emily's hand away, Nellie shook her head. ‘That's bad luck if ever was. Take it off, Emily. You don't want a dead woman's ring.'

Emily's bottom lip trembled and her eyes filled with tears. ‘How can you say a thing like that?'

‘I think it's nice,' Lizzie said, cuddling up to Emily.

‘Me too.' Winnie caught hold of Emily's hand, waggling it so that the firelight reflected off the tiny stone. ‘You've made Emmie cry, Ma.'

Nellie cast an anxious glance at Tilly, who was ready to fly at Bert and shove him out onto the street, but footsteps on the stairs made them turn their heads as Ned True came lumbering into the room, coughing and wheezing.

‘What's all this noise then? Can't a bloke snatch a nap in his own house?' He stopped, staring at Tilly, his tired features creaking into a slow smile. ‘Is that you, Tilly?'

‘Pops!' Tilly rushed into his arms. ‘It's good to see you.'

Holding her at arm's length, Ned's faded blue eyes searched her face. ‘Everything all right, love?'

‘Everything's fine, Pops.' Seeing him looking so sickly, Tilly couldn't have told him the truth, not if her life had depended on it. ‘I just come for a visit afore I goes off to India on me new job.'

‘India?' The word ricocheted off the whitewashed walls, reverberating round the small room like a pistol shot, followed by a stunned silence.

Blimey, Tilly thought, what have I done now? Where did that come from? The word India had popped into her head in a lightning strike of inspiration; anyway it was a foreign land, far enough away from Bert Tuffin's vindictive reach. In her mind's eye, Tilly could see the picture hanging on the schoolroom wall of a serious-looking Queen Victoria sitting on an ivory throne when she was crowned Empress of India. Miss Higgins, her teacher, had been very fond of telling the class stories about India. Miss Higgins's parents had been missionaries during the Indian Mutiny, and had died there. Tilly had liked to believe they had perished horribly in the Black Hole of Calcutta, but really they had succumbed to a fever, which wasn't half so interesting.

Everyone was looking at her. Tilly licked her lips, wishing that she had held her tongue for once. ‘Probably,' she added, attempting a weak smile.

‘Probably? Well are you or aren't you?' Nellie's voice rose to a shriek. ‘I never heard of such nonsense. What's a girl like you going to do in a heathen foreign country on the other side of the world?'

‘Hold on, ducks,' Ned said, laying his hand on Nellie's arm. ‘Let Tilly speak.'

‘Missionaries,' Tilly said, thinking of Miss Higgins's unlucky parents. ‘I got a job as maid to a reverend gentleman's sister, Miss Harriet. They're going out to India as missionaries.'

‘Well I never,' Nellie said, shaking her head. ‘What a day for shocks.'

‘Here, this ain't fair,' Emily cried. ‘This is supposed to be my day. I'm the one what's getting married. Pops, this is Mr Albert Tuffin, my intended.'

‘Getting married?' Ned sat down suddenly, as if his legs had given out beneath him. ‘My little Emily getting married? She's only fourteen, mister.'