Tilly True (43 page)

An hour later, with the kitchen reasonably tidy and the floor swept, Tilly took a seat at the table. Emily sat with Diamond suckling at her breast, making soft guzzling noises. The sight of them together brought the pain of losing her own child flooding back and Tilly had to look away, biting her lip in an effort to prevent herself from crying. She had fought so hard to put her loss behind her but it was still there, a raw wound inside her that felt as though it would never heal and was made worse by the knowledge that Barney had not shared her grief. If she were to admit the truth, she knew that he was relieved that there would be no child: he had not said as much, but then he had not needed to. The only other person in whom she might have confided was Clem; she had not even told Ma about the loss of her baby. It was almost impossible to put her feelings into words, but she felt that Clem would have understood. If only he were here now – not for herself, of course, but for his father and Emily who desperately needed his help now that Abel had deserted them. Clem would know what to do, but he was far away in a military hospital in Meerut and Tilly knew that it was up to her and her alone to sort things out.

‘What'll we do, Tilly?' Emily said, shifting Diamond to her left breast. ‘I've no money and there's no food in the cupboard. I got to pay the doctor and Bert needs beef tea and such to keep his strength up, and laudanum to make him sleep.'

Knowing that she had only pence left in her purse and that Ma and Pops were just as badly off, Tilly knew that matters were desperate, but she wasn't going to admit that to Emily. ‘I'll go out and get some food in. You just see to Diamond and Bert.' Getting to her feet, she gave Emily an encouraging smile. ‘I won't be long.'

Having spent all her money, Tilly hurried back to Duck's Foot Lane only to find a man hammering on the door and kicking it.

‘Hey, what's up?'

He turned on her, scowling. ‘What's it to you?'

‘Tell me your business and maybe I can help.'

‘I've been waiting three days for a dozen sacks of flour that Tuffin was supposed to deliver to my bakery in Milk Yard. If I haven't got flour then I'm out of business.'

‘How much?' Tilly demanded. ‘How much were you going to pay him?'

‘I won't pay nothing if I don't get my goods by five o'clock this evening.'

‘You'll get them,' Tilly said, making an instant decision. ‘Give me the address again just in case there's been a mistake on the books.'

‘Hobson's bakery, Milk Yard, near Shadwell Basin. Before five, mind you, or I'm taking me business elsewhere. And the name is Hobson, Mr Hobson.' He turned on his heel and stamped off down the street.

‘You'll get your blooming sacks of flour, Mr Hobson,' Tilly muttered, letting herself into the house. ‘You'll get them by five if I have to do it myself.'

Tilly had no intention of ruining her fine clothes, and, dressed in an old frock that no longer fitted Emily, she tucked her hair up in one of Clem's caps, donned a hessian apron and wrapped a shawl around her shoulders. Now she looked just like hundreds of other women who earned their living on the city streets, shabby and drab but workmanlike. Emily had been only too pleased to allow her to do Bert's work for him, but first she insisted that they go upstairs and give him the good news, which might do wonders for his health.

Tilly had been shocked to the core to see Bert in this sorry state. He lay on the bed, his face contorted into a rictus grin, unable to speak and with saliva dribbling out of the corner of his mouth. Paralysed down his left side, Bert had changed overnight from a giant of a man with huge physical strength and a temper to match, to a helpless wreck. Tilly could see the torment in his eyes as he attempted to communicate, but she also noted the hint of softness in them as he looked at Emily and his baby. Tilly couldn't help but be touched, especially by the tenderness that Emily displayed towards him, wiping his mouth with a cloth and feeding him sips of beef tea with a spoon. Feeling like an intruder, Tilly left the room and went downstairs to the scullery, where the sacks of flour were piled up against the whitewashed walls. Struggling to lift the first one, Tilly almost gave up as she discovered its weight, but, refusing to be beaten, she took several deep breaths and somehow managed to heft it onto her shoulders. Sagging at the knees and struggling for breath, she heaved the sack onto the cart. By the time she had repeated this exercise eleven more times, she felt as though her back was about to break and her hands were blistered and bleeding, but there was no time to feel sorry for herself. She climbed stiffly onto the cart and picked up the reins.

Tilly had never handled a horse before, let alone driven a heavily laden cart through the narrow streets of Wapping. Flicking the reins, she urged Neptune forward, and, to her surprise and considerable relief, the old horse obeyed her command. It was dark by the time they reached Hobson's bakery and a boy showed her where to unload the sacks. Hobson came out of the bakehouse and stood watching her.

‘Well, I'm blowed if I thought you had it in you, missis.'

Hefting the last sack onto her sore shoulders, Tilly carried it into the storeroom and set it down with the rest. She came out wiping her hands on her apron. ‘There you are, guv. Twelve sacks delivered as promised.' She held out her hand. ‘There's just the matter of payment.'

Pushing his white cap to the back of his head, Hobson grinned. ‘Who would have thought a little thing like you had the strength of a navvy? You earned the money all right, but you can tell that lazy sod Tuffin from me that I think a bloke what sends a woman to do a man's work is a shit, if you'll pardon the expression.'

‘I'll tell him, Mr Hobson, but from now on you'll be dealing with me. You might say that Mr Tuffin has gone into early retirement.'

Next morning, Tilly arrived outside the offices in Hay Yard in style. She paid off the cabby and paused only to adjust her fur hat before entering the offices of Palgrave, Jardine and Bolt. Bootle looked up from his desk and his round face puckered into an expression of surprise and, Tilly thought, a slight tremor of alarm.

Taking her marriage certificate from her purse, she laid it in front of him. ‘Mr Bootle, I want an answer. Is this or is this not a legal document.'

Bootle peered at it, took off his spectacles and polished them on his hanky and perched them on his nose, clearing his throat. ‘Miss Tilly, I mean Mrs Palgrave, what brought this about? I mean, it's nice to see you again, but I thought you had joined Mr Barney in India.'

‘Please answer my question.' Tilly tapped the document with her forefinger. ‘Is this a legal document?'

Bootle's flushed cheeks turned a deeper shade of purple and beads of perspiration appeared on his brow. ‘I didn't officiate at the ceremony. I was simply present to congratulate the happy couple.'

Her patience wearing thin, Tilly leaned both hands on the desk, looking Bootle in the eye. ‘Is it legal?'

Shaking his head, Bootle mopped his forehead with a piece of blotting paper. ‘I didn't agree with the matter, you must believe me. Pitcher had the documents printed. One of his underworld acquaintances obliged, acting the part of the registrar, so I believe. I tried to talk Mr Barney out of it but he threatened to tell his uncle that I'd assisted him once before.'

‘You mean when he bogusly married Mrs Jameson?'

Bootle nodded. ‘If any of this comes to light I'll lose my position, Miss Tilly. I'm not concerned for myself, but I have all the little Bootles to think about, and my good wife too.'

Snatching up the document, Tilly tore it into small pieces, tossing them into the wastepaper basket. Trembling, she sat down as her knees gave way beneath her. A cold lump of misery lay heavily in her chest where she once had a heart; unshed tears burned the back of her eyes but she could not cry.

‘I'm so sorry,' Bootle said, jumping up and running round his desk to stand before her wringing his hands. ‘I am really very sorry.'

Tilly looked at him blankly, barely conscious of his presence. Shaking her head, she got slowly to her feet. ‘I don't blame you, Mr Bootle. You always stood up for me. I know who's at fault here.'

She was about to leave the office, but Bootle caught her by the sleeve. ‘Stay a while, please do. You've had a nasty shock. Let me get you a cup of tea or something stronger.'

‘No, thank you. I'll be all right. I just need some fresh air and time to think.' Ignoring Bootle's entreaties for her to stay, Tilly held her head high and marched out of the office, out of the building and, she thought, out of Barney's life for ever. Outside, she stumbled and only just saved herself from falling by clutching at the iron railings. It had all been a sham, a cruel deception taking advantage of her naivety and innocence. Barney had only pretended to love her and had cynically exploited her love for him. Cruel, cruel, cruel. The word etched itself into her brain.

Taking deep gulps of damp February air, Tilly gradually became calmer. She began to walk, slowly and deliberately, in the direction of home. When she reached the house in Red Dragon passage, her knees buckled and she collapsed.

Tilly lay in bed for two whole days and nights, huddled under the blankets, shivering and crying – out of her mind as if she were suffering from an acute fever. Nellie brought her cups of sweet tea and bowls of broth, which lay untasted. Tilly heard their anxious voices whispering above her head, she caught glimpses of worried faces, and she knew she must be ill when Lizzie, Winnie and the boys did not share her bedroom.

When she awakened on the third day, the veil had lifted from her brain and her eyes were dry and seeing clearly. Her grief for the love she had lost, for the child that had not lived long enough to take a breath and for the callous treachery of the man who had pretended to love her, had lessened in intensity, leaving her with a deep sadness that she knew must be borne. She got up from her bed, dressed in her old clothes and calmly packed her fur-lined cape, hat and expensive travelling outfit in her valise. Having tied the rest of her clothes in a bundle, she went downstairs to find Ma getting ready to leave for work.

‘Oh, Tilly love, you're feeling better. Thank Gawd. I thought for a while you had brain fever. You've been awful sick.'

‘I'm going to be fine but I could murder a cup of tea.'

Smiling, Nellie bustled over to the trivet and picked up the teapot. ‘It's a bit stewed. I could make a fresh brew.'

‘It'll do as it is,' Tilly said, sitting down suddenly as her legs turned to cotton wool. ‘Ma, I've had time to think while I've been sick and I've decided that it would be best if I go and live with Emmie. She's close to her time and Bert is a very sick man. If I can keep the business going then I can help you and Pops as well.'

‘Well, that's a surprise I must say.' Nellie's hand shook as she poured the tea.

‘And I'll take Lizzie with me. She can help Emmie with Diamond and the new baby and I'll pay her a fair wage.'

‘Well I never.' Nellie stared at Tilly, shaking her head in disbelief. ‘You're going to run Bert's business? But you're just a girl.'

‘I'm twenty, Ma. I'm a woman and I can work just as hard as any man. I'll not stand by and see my family driven into the ground by want.'

‘You're a good girl,' Nellie said with feeling. ‘But by rights you ought to be with that husband of yours. You're a lady now, Tilly. You shouldn't be doing Bert Tuffin's work for him.'

Still Tilly couldn't bring herself to admit the truth. She drank the tea and set the cup down on the table, getting to her feet with what she hoped was a cheerful smile. ‘I got to keep myself occupied while I'm waiting for the army to find us a married quarter. I can't stand being idle, Ma, and Emmie needs me.'

Shaking her head and smiling but with tears in her eyes, Nellie blew her nose on the corner of her apron. ‘Like I said before, you're a good girl, Tilly. I'm proud of you.'

Picking up her valise and bundle, Tilly made for the door. ‘Where's Lizzie?'

‘I sent her down the docks to say that Ned is still too poorly to work.'

‘I'll come back for her later then. Don't worry, Ma. Everything will be all right, you'll see.'

Setting out with a determined stride, Tilly headed for the pawnbroker's shop in Pickled Herring Alley. Having obtained a fair sum for her best clothes and, after a moment of agonising, her engagement and wedding ring, she set off again for Duck's Foot Lane. In Wapping High Street, she noticed an empty shop with a
To Let
sign in the window. Struck by the germ of an idea, Tilly went inside to enquire as to the rent.

Emily burst into tears when Tilly told her that she had come to stay, but she assured Tilly that she was crying with relief. Her tears flowed even faster when Tilly suggested that Lizzie might be the ideal person to help her with Diamond and the new baby when it came.

Leaving Emily to tell Bert the good news, Tilly went out into the yard to inspect the jumble of items that Bert had collected but had not sold. There were chairs, some of them in a reasonable condition, chamber pots, only slightly chipped, saucepans, kettles, cartwheels, stools and picture frames. Standing in the damp chill of a late February morning, Tilly assessed the value of each item. Left to rust away and rot in the rain, these articles were valueless, but cleaned up and displayed in a shop window they could be converted into cash. Tilly went off to haggle about the rent with the owner of the premises in the High Street.

She paid the deposit with the money she had obtained for the clothes that she had worn in her previous life. She was no longer Mrs Barnaby Palgrave; she was Tilly True, shopkeeper and dealer in second-hand goods. Enlisting the help of Lizzie, Winnie, Jim and Dan, Tilly shifted the articles from the back yard in Duck's Foot Lane to the shop in the High Street. She then set Winnie and Lizzie to clean and polish the stock, while she took Jim and Dan out with her on the cart. They went knocking on doors, offering to purchase unwanted items. In the weeks that followed, she became a familiar figure, driving Neptune and a heavily laden cart through the streets of Wapping and Shadwell. By the time Emily's second daughter was born at the end of April, Tilly's shop had begun to show a small profit. Lizzie had settled down and had proved to be an excellent nanny to Diamond, who adored her, and Winnie, Jim and Dan helped in the shop at weekends.