A Mother's Courage (23 page)

As they left the shelter of the waiting room,
Eloise saw from the white face of the station
clock that it was just half past five. She found a
coffee stall that was just setting up and
purchased a ham sandwich and a slice of fruit
cake, which she shared out between them. The
children ate ravenously and Eloise took only a
small amount of food for herself. Her split lip
made eating difficult and the bread stuck in her
throat when she attempted to swallow, but Joss
and Beth had no trouble consuming their share
of sandwich and cake. Outside the station, Eloise
paused on the pavement, wondering which way
to go. Even at this early hour the streets were
beginning to fill with people on their way to their
various places of employment. She kept looking
over her shoulder, glancing anxiously at the
faces of the men who strode towards her. Any
one of them could be the man called Pike, who
was intent on finding them. He must have an
idea of what she looked like, but in that he had
the advantage of her. Too scared to walk the
main streets, Eloise went instinctively away from
the city centre, heading north towards Maiden
Lane. The streets were narrow and clogged with
carts containing rubbish and night soil as the
carters headed for the dust yard. The air was
almost too thick to breathe and the sunrise was
partially obliterated by a cloud of dust, so that
the sun itself looked like a blood orange lurking
behind a veil of gauze. Eloise had no idea where
she was going, but she was afraid to turn back.
She hesitated, looking round at the unfamiliar
surroundings. The stench of the dust yard was
appalling and made her want to retch. The noise
from beyond the high wall was almost deafening,
and she was about to cross the road when a
horse-drawn vehicle appeared seemingly out of
nowhere.

'Whoa. Look out there, you bloody fool.' The
carter's warning shout came almost too late as
the carthorse reared in its shafts, and the sudden
braking of the huge iron-rimmed wheels caused
sparks to fly up from the cobblestones. Clutching
Beth to her bosom, Eloise dragged Joss off his
feet as she staggered and fell against the brick
wall of the dust yard, hitting her head and seeing
nothing except the metallic gleam of hooves
rising above her head.

'Hey there, you clumsy great oaf. Don't you
never look where you're going?'

Eloise struggled back to full consciousness to
see a wild-looking woman standing in the road,
shaking her fist at the carter. She was covered
from the top of her battered black bonnet to her
booted feet in grit and coal dust, and a pair of
fierce brown eyes glared at the man through a
mask of dirt. 'You great booby, you nearly run
down this poor soul and her nippers.'

The carter responded with a volley of invective,
emphasising each word with a crack of the
whip above the poor horse's ears as he steered it
through the open gates into the yard. 'I'll have
words to say to you later on, Peg Tranter.'

The woman he called Peg stuck out her tongue.
'You can bugger off, Mick. I got nothing more to
say to you now or later.' She turned her back on
him, giving her attention to Joss who was wailing
with fright and pain from a scraped knee. She
took off a red scarf that was knotted around her
throat and tied it round the injured limb. 'There's
a brave little soldier. All better now?'

Despite a bump on the head and a badly
bruised shoulder, Eloise's first concern was for
Beth who was sobbing in her arms. A quick
examination reassured her that the baby was
unhurt by their fall, and a kiss and a cuddle soon
comforted her. Eloise glanced anxiously at Joss,
but he seemed happy enough having the full
attention of the strange-looking woman, and he
was tracing a pattern in the dirt on her cheek
with one small finger. Eloise scrambled to her
feet. 'Thank you, ma'am. I think the brute would
have run us down if you had not stopped him.'

'Nah, he wouldn't. Mick is just a bag of hot air.
Got a temper on him, but he wouldn't harm a
fly.'

Eloise tried to smile, but her split lip began to
bleed again and she raised her hand to her
mouth. 'Thank you, anyway.'

'Well, I dunno what you're doing here at this
hour of the morning, and with two nippers in
tow, but judging by the looks of you, you already
come off the worse from some bloke's fist.' Peg
stood back, arms akimbo as she took in Eloise's
bruised and dishevelled appearance. 'Jealous
sort, is he? Caught you with another fellah, did
he?'

Eloise shook her head. 'No. It wasn't like that.
Really, I must be getting on . . .' She swayed
dizzily and Peg rushed forward to snatch Beth
from her arms.

'Why, you're half dead on your feet. You ain't
going nowhere for a while. What you need is a
nice hot cup of tea and a sit down.' Ignoring
Eloise's feeble protests, Peg took Joss by the hand
and strode off, leading the way to a narrow alley
at the back of the dust yard. Separated from the
workings by a high brick wall, a row of dilapidated
single-storey cottages lay in the menacing
shadow of the dust heap, which towered above
them like a foul-smelling black mountain. Eloise
paused to catch her breath, staring at the strange
monochrome landscape that was unlike anything
she had ever seen before. Fine particles
floated down from the skies like dry rain,
obliterating the cobblestones and smothering the
cottages in a grey mantle. The air was thick with
the dust, making it difficult to breathe, and Eloise
covered her mouth and nose with her hands, but
Peg seemed oblivious to it all and she marched
up to the first cottage, opened the door and
disappeared inside taking the children with her.
Eloise had no option but to follow them and she
paused in the doorway, blinking as her eyes
grew accustomed to the dim light.

It was the most humble dwelling that Eloise
had ever set foot in, but the flagstone floor was
spotlessly clean, and embers of a fire glowed in a
black leaded grate. Strings of onions and dried
herbs hung from the low beamed ceiling, and the
plain deal kitchen table had been scrubbed to the
whiteness of bleached bone. The room was
sparsely furnished with items that looked as
though they had been rescued from the rubbish
heap and crudely mended with slats of wood
from orange boxes and rusty iron nails.

Peg set Beth down on a three-legged wooden
stool, and Joss scrambled onto a bent wood chair
at the table. 'I expect you could all do with
something to eat,' Peg said, reaching out to take
a loaf from the crock on the dresser. She hacked
off three generous slices. 'This here bread is a bit
stale and there ain't no butter until the dairy
opens, but there might be a bit of jam left in the
pot if the nippers ain't scoffed the lot last night.'
She took a jam jar from a shelf and scraped some
jam onto the bread. 'That'll keep them quiet for a
bit,' she said, turning to Eloise with a broad grin.
'Sit down afore you fall down, and I'll make us
that cup of tea.'

Grateful that Peg did not bombard her with
questions, Eloise sank down on a chair at the
table. She nibbled her slice of bread and jam,
smiling at the sight of Joss and Beth tucking into
their food. She was grateful for the moment of
respite, but she reminded herself that they
would have to move on soon. She had a nagging
suspicion that when their hasty departure was
discovered, Ephraim would act out of sheer spite
and set Pike on their trail.

Peg went to the fireplace to riddle the embers.
She threw on a few lumps of coal and as the
flames took hold she hung a blackened kettle on
a hook over the fire. 'There, that shouldn't take
too long,' she said, taking off her leather apron
and hanging it on a peg. She turned to Eloise,
angling her head. 'I ain't one to pry, but it would
help if I knowed your name. I'm Peg, as you
might have guessed from that big-mouthed
bloke Mick Fowler, who pesters me day and
night to marry him.'

'I didn't realise . . .'

Peg chuckled deep down in her throat and she
took off her bonnet, sending a shower of dust
onto the floor. She shook out her long, luxuriant
chestnut hair, which fell in waves around her
shoulders, and wiped some of the dirt from her
face with a piece of rag, revealing a face that was
not only much younger than Eloise had supposed,
but she could see now that beneath the
thick layer of dirt Peg was very pretty.

Peg gave her a knowing look. 'Yes, there is a
girl under all this muck. And I do like him, a bit
anyway, though I'd never let on to Mick. I have
to keep him in his place or he'd take liberties, if
you know what I mean. I have to be firm with my
boy, but I intend to marry him one day, though
he don't know it yet and I shan't let on until I'm
good and ready.'

'You're very sure of yourself.'

'I am so. I have a good job as a sifter on the dust
heap and I can earn upwards of a shilling a day
when the weather is fine. Me dad was the hill
man, that's foreman of the heap to you, but he
died a year or two back of lung fever, and now
me brother Cyril is the hill man. Ma is a sifter like
me, and me brother Jimmy is a filler-in and
young Danny is a loader. Cora and Daisy are too
young to help out, but when Cora is six she'll
carry the bones, rags and bits of metal to the
various heaps.'

'So the whole family is employed on the dust
heap?'

'That's how it is. There are several more
families who work the yard. We like to keep it
that way.'

'It must be very hard work, and dirty too.'

Peg took a chipped brown china teapot with
only half a handle from the dresser and a
battered tin tea caddy from the mantelshelf. She
warmed the pot and measured out the tea leaves.
'It's hard, but it's a living,' she said, pouring
boiling water into the pot. 'There, we'll let that
brew and then we'll have a nice cup of tea, while
you tell me your story. And don't give me the
one about walking into a door. I've heard it all
before.'

As she sipped the hot, sweet tea, Eloise found
herself telling Peg everything, from the tragic
news of Ronnie's untimely death to the shameful
way in which Ephraim had taken advantage of
her. Peg listened, round-eyed and suitably
impressed. 'Well, I never did. And you a vicar's
daughter too.'

'I didn't mean to burden you with my troubles,
Peg. Thank you for the food and tea, but I think
it's time we were on our way.' Eloise went to
stand up, but a wave of dizziness made her sink
back onto the hard wooden seat of the chair.
'Perhaps another five minutes' rest will set me
right.'

Peg shook her head. 'You can't go nowhere in
that state. What if you fell into a dead faint and
there was no one to look after the nippers? No,
you'd best stay here until you're fit enough to go
on.' She raised her hand as Eloise opened her
mouth to argue. 'Ma will be up in a little while
and she'll agree with me. She'll say it was lucky I
done the night shift and it were fate that made
Mick almost run you down outside the dust
yard. Ma believes in all that stuff. You sit right
where you are. I'm going out to the dairy to fetch
milk and butter, and then I'm going to the bakery
to get the bread. When Ma comes in, you tell her
I said you're to stay.' Peg crammed her bonnet
back on her head, picked up a wicker basket and
breezed out of the cottage. Eloise stared dumbly
after her. It did not seem possible that Peg had
already done a night shift in that horrible place
and still had the energy to go out for provisions.
She heard movement in the next room, and she
braced herself to face Mrs Tranter with an
explanation as to their presence in her home.

But when the interior door opened it was two
small girls who tumbled into the room, still
wearing their calico nightgowns and with their
hair tied up in rags. They stared at Joss and Beth.
'Who are you?' demanded the elder girl, who
could not have been more than four or five.
'What are you doing here?'

The younger child put out her hand to touch
Joss's blond curls. 'Hello, boy.'

Joss gave her a shove that caught her by surprise
and she sat down with a painful thud and
began to cry. A small, thin woman rushed into
the room, stopping short when she saw Eloise.
'What's going on?'

She was so like Peg that there was no mistaking
her for anyone other than Mrs Tranter and
Eloise rose a little unsteadily to her feet. 'I'm
sorry, Mrs Tranter. Peg said you wouldn't mind
if we rested here for a little while.' She caught
Joss by the shoulders and turned him towards
the small girl. 'Say you're sorry, Joss.'

He took on the stubborn, mulish look that
always reminded Eloise forcibly of Ronnie and
he shook his head. 'Shan't.'

Mrs Tranter's lined face cracked into a smile. 'I
wish I had a penny for every time I've heard that
word.' She bent down to pick up her wailing
daughter. 'You're not hurt, Daisy. Rub it in.' She
rubbed the child's backside with her hand and
then set her down on the ground. 'Cora, take
Daisy into the bedroom and get her dressed. Go
and wake the boys up or they'll be late for work
and they'll have their pay docked. You tell them
that.' She shooed the small girls into the back
room and then turned to fix Eloise with a curious
stare. 'So, what's your story then, love?'

By the time Peg returned with fresh bread,
milk and butter, Eloise had retold her story, and
Mrs Tranter had listened with knowing nods of
her head and sympathetic murmurs. 'Your poor
dad would turn in his grave if he knew what had
happened to you, ducks.'

A cold shiver ran down Eloise's spine. 'My
father isn't dead, Mrs Tranter.'

'Heavens above, did I say dead? I meant to say
departed – not in the way of being deceased, you
understand. I meant that he weren't here to
protect you and the nippers. That's what I
meant.'

Mrs Tranter and Peg exchanged worried
glances which did nothing to comfort Eloise.

'It was a slip of the tongue,' Peg said hastily. 'It
ain't true what they say about Ma having second
sight. That's just a load of old nonsense.'

'It could be just the sickness,' Mrs Tranter
murmured. 'Mortal bad sickness.'

Before Eloise had a chance to question her, the
door to the bedroom burst open and two young
boys tumbled into the tiny living room, followed
by a young man of eighteen or nineteen.

'Boys, where's your manners?' Mrs Tranter
demanded, cuffing the one nearest to her round
the head. She tempered her action with a proud
smile. 'These are my boys, Ellie. This is Jimmy
and the young one is Danny, and the big fellah
who ought to know better than to chase his
brothers is my Cyril. He took over as hill man
when my hubby passed away two years since.'
She held her hand out to Cora and Daisy. 'And
these are my babies. I lost three, but I thank the
Lord for the survival of the rest.'

Eloise lifted Beth onto her lap, fearing that
someone might accidentally tread on her. 'It's
nice to meet you all,' she murmured. The boys
were staring openly at her disfigured face,
making her feel extremely uncomfortable. 'But
you'll want to have your breakfast, Mrs Tranter.
I'm afraid that we're in the way.'

'Sit down, ducks,' Mrs Tranter said, taking the
loaf from Peg's basket. She took a knife from a
drawer in the table and cut thick doorsteps of
bread, scraping them with butter. 'And me name
is Gertie. No one stands on ceremony in Magpie
Alley.' She gave the largest slice of bread to Cyril,
who muttered something unintelligible, rammed
his cap on his head and hurried from the house,
followed by the two younger boys who were
cramming bread into their mouths as they went.

It seemed little enough food to keep them
going all day, and Eloise thought guiltily of the
breakfasts she had taken so much for granted at
home. The white damask tablecloth set with
bone-handled cutlery and Mama's prized
willow-pattern china. The bowls of porridge
laced with cream and sugar, the crisp bacon and
glossy fried eggs that Janet served sometimes
with sausages and at others with tender kidneys
and fried bread; the hot buttered toast and homemade
marmalade or raspberry jam. She had
taken it all for granted and had sent back
platefuls of uneaten food, simply because she
was not hungry. Papa had frowned and scolded
her for wasting good food. She could hear him
now as he had stood at the head of the table,
wagging his finger at her. 'There are thousands
of people in this world who are starving and
would be grateful to have a meal like that.' She
had felt guilty then, but she could never have
imagined what it was like to be really hungry –
until now. If she ever had a chance to live well
again she would not waste a single crumb, and
when they said grace before a meal she would
recite the words with feeling.