A Mother's Promise (19 page)

She quickened her pace. Dawdling and daydreaming would not make her fortune. By the time she had reached Commercial Street, she was already formulating plans for renting one of the permanent stalls in the market and expanding her business. With two stalls, she could afford to move her family to a larger house, perhaps in Hanbury Street or Wood Street. Since the terrible murders by the person they called the Leather Apron, or Jack the
Ripper, the cost of renting property had plummeted. The police had never caught him, but at least the dreadful carnage seemed to have stopped. Now would be the ideal time to take out a lease on one of the houses in that area. Hetty was only too well aware that they could not impose on Granny for very much longer, and she would soon need a proper kitchen in which to prepare food for her stall. There was such a lot to think about.

She did even better in the market that day, and putting her personal problems aside she revelled in the atmosphere of camaraderie amongst the costermongers. She felt that she was part of a large and boisterous family, and that she was safe in their company. In the bustling clamour of the market, she was able to put all thoughts of Clench out of her mind. It was hard work, but she was so busy that she had no time to worry about an aching back or sore feet. She did such a roaring trade that she put in an even larger order at the bakery, not only for more loaves of bread, but also for a batch of sticky buns and a large seed cake.

She was too exhausted to go looking for Tom after work, but on Sunday afternoon she took Jane, Sammy, Eddie and Natalia round to his home in Dye House Lane. Tom’s surprised expression was almost comical as he opened the door and saw the whole family,
with the exception of Granny who was at home having a nap, standing outside on the narrow pavement.

Hetty held out her hand. ‘I’ve come to apologise, Tom. I shouldn’t have said what I said, and I hope you’ll find it in your heart to forgive me. We’ve been friends for too long to let a silly argument come between us.’

‘I wouldn’t call it a silly argument,’ Tom said coldly. ‘You made it clear that you wanted nothing to do with the likes of me.’

‘That’s not true,’ Hetty said softly. ‘I love you, Tom. But not in the way you want me to love you. I’m just not made that way, but I value your friendship more than anything else in the world.’

‘We miss you,’ Sammy cried, pushing Hetty aside and wrapping his arms around Tom’s waist. ‘We want you to come to the park with us, like you always do.’

‘Please, Tom,’ Eddie urged, seizing Tom’s hand. ‘It won’t be any fun without you.’

Jane stood on tiptoe to kiss Tom’s cheek. ‘That goes for me too, Tom. You can’t desert us now.’ She held Natalia up to him. ‘Baby misses you too.’

As if to confirm this bold statement, Natalia gave Tom a sunny smile and held her arms out to him. He took her from Jane, holding her as if she was a fragile blossom, which he might
crush if he held her too tightly. ‘Hello, little ‘un. I missed you as well.’ Tom’s eyes glistened with tears as he rubbed his cheek against Natalia’s soft baby curls. ‘I missed all of you too.’

‘Then you’ll come with us?’ Hetty asked, hardly daring to breathe. Tom was so much a part of their lives that she could not bear the thought of losing him.

He gave her a long, searching look and then a slow smile spread from his lips to his eyes. ‘Well, I suppose I could manage to put up with the lot of you for an hour or so.’

‘And we could have a penny lick from the hokey-pokey man,’ Sammy said eagerly.

Tom handed Natalia back to Jane. ‘We’ll see. Just let me fetch me jacket and cap and we’ll go for a stroll in the park.’

As he retreated into the dingy hallway, Hetty and Jane exchanged triumphant glances. ‘Just be yourself, Jane,’ Hetty whispered. ‘He’ll soon learn what a treasure you are.’

‘Why is she a treasure?’ Eddie demanded.

‘Never you mind,’ Hetty countered, play-fully tweaking his ear. ‘You’d better be good if you want some ice cream.’

Tom reappeared in the doorway, shrugging on his jacket. He put his cap on his head, and held his arms out to Natalia. ‘Here, let me have her, Jane. She’s getting too big for you to carry far.’

Jane fluttered her eyelashes and smiled as she handed her daughter into his arms. ‘Ta, Tom. She’s always good when you hold her. Baby knows what a splendid chap you are.’

‘I’m glad someone does,’ he said, hoisting Natalia onto his shoulders.

Hetty took Sammy and Eddie by the hand. ‘Come on then, let’s go for a walk in the park. I think we’d best avoid the rowing boats though.’ She gave Tom a sideways glance and was relieved to see the amused gleam in his eyes. She knew now that he had forgiven her.

The afternoon passed off without incident. Tom’s good nature soon overcame his initial awkwardness and Jane was on her best behaviour. Sammy and Eddie gambolled about on the damp grass like a couple of spring lambs, and Natalia crowed with delight as she watched them from the safety of Tom’s arms. Hetty couldn’t help thinking that he would make a wonderful father, and found herself hoping that one day he would look at Jane with the eyes of love, and not just see her as the little girl who used to tease and torment him. They strolled beneath the flowering cherry trees and listened to the band. Tom bought everyone a penny lick from the Italian hokey-pokey man, and as Hetty savoured the sweet, vanilla-flavoured
confection she wondered if, one day, she could add ice cream to her bill of fare.

When they went into the refreshment room, Hetty was so busy comparing the quality of the food and the prices that she charged on her stall that Tom and Jane laughed at her and teased her about never being off duty. At that point, Hetty remembered that she had to go home to prepare her barrow for the next day, and, amidst protests from everyone, she got up from the table. ‘You’ll see them home, won’t you, Tom?’ she asked with a persuasive smile. ‘Please.’

‘Of course I will,’ Tom said, chuckling. ‘You go and see to that old stall of yours. That’s where your heart really lies, isn’t it, Hetty?’

As she walked home alone, she could not quite put Tom’s words out of her head. They had been said in a jocular fashion, but, as in many a jest, there was truth in them. She had put profit before her own wants and needs, but what no one seemed to understand was that she alone bore the responsibility for the well-being of her family.

She had learned long ago that having money made the difference between living and simply existing. She would never allow her family to go hungry again, or to work for long hours sweating at the various trades from making matches, or shoes at fourpence a dozen, or
finishing boots at twopence halfpenny a pair, or even boxes for expensive soap at one and six per gross. Such were the lives of most people who lived in these parts. There had to be a better life somewhere, and Hetty was determined to work until she had found this other place, where the streets were not knee deep in horse dung and rotting vegetable matter, where sewers did not overflow every time there was a rainstorm, where disease did not claim the lives of babies and small children, and where men and women were not withered into a premature old age by poverty and want. She lifted her chin and strode on towards Totty Street. She had eggs and a large piece of gammon to boil, ready for the morning. Monday was the start of a new week and it would be the beginning of a more prosperous future for them all.

It was raining. Steady, drenching rain was pouring from a leaden sky. With a piece of sacking draped over her head and shoulders, Hetty pushed her barrow along the Mile End Road, heading for Spitalfields. The wheels of passing horse-drawn vehicles threw up sprays of muddy water, soaking the hem of her skirt, and she could feel the damp seeping through the soles of her boots. It was not the best start to the week, and when Cyrus Clench fell into
step beside her, she was barely surprised. ‘Go away, Clench. I ain’t in the mood to speak to the likes of you.’

His face had a greenish tinge to it as he huddled beneath a large black umbrella that had several broken spokes, giving it a curious humpbacked appearance. He bared his teeth in a rictus grin. ‘That ain’t very polite of you, Miss Hetty.’

‘I’ve nothing to say to you, Clench. Leave me alone.’

‘But you owes me money, missy. I’m a poor man and I can’t write off the interest you owe me. I want it now.’

Hetty trudged onwards, ignoring his whining voice.

He quickened his pace to keep up with her. ‘Acting stuck-up won’t get you nowhere, Miss Hetty. I’m a patient man, and a good-natured fellow, or I’d have sent the bailiffs in to your grandma’s house in Totty Street before now. She made a big mistake when she threw my mate Jasper out. A big mistake.’

Hetty came to a sudden halt. She turned to look at him and the malicious gleam in his beady eyes frightened her. ‘What are you saying?’

‘Just this, sweetheart. Either you pays up the accumulated interest on the loan, or you pays me in kind.’

A cold shiver ran down Hetty’s spine and it was not just the rainwater trickling through the sodden sacking. ‘I don’t owe you any money. You know very well that my grandmother paid off the loan in full.’

‘Can you prove it? Have you got it in writing?’

‘You know that I haven’t, but that doesn’t make any difference. You were paid off.’

‘It’s my word against yours and Jasper will back me up. Who do you think the bailiffs will believe, dearie?’

‘You’re bluffing, Clench.’

‘Pay up or pay me in kind. Meet me in the Ten Bells on the corner of Church Street at six o’clock this evening, or you’ll be sorry.’

‘You don’t frighten me,’ Hetty lied, clenching her teeth in order to stop them chattering.

He chuckled deep down in his throat. ‘Ho! Don’t I? I can see it in your eyes, missy. I want to see a different expression in them this evening when we meet up. I want to hear you say “Yes, Cyrus”, in a loving tone mark you, and we’ll go on from there. I reckon once or twice a week for a month or two will just about pay your debt to me.’

‘Never!’ Hetty almost choked on the bile that had risen to her throat. She knew exactly what Clench intended and the thought of it sickened her. She hurried on as fast as she
could, but his hoarse laughter followed her along the street. Mercifully, he allowed her to go on her way, and a quick glance over her shoulder reassured her that he had moved off in the opposite direction. Hetty abandoned her barrow at the side of the road and she dashed into a side alley to vomit.

She was late arriving at the market and George was already busy on his stall. She received a cheery wave from Brush and she managed a weak smile in return, as she began to set up her stall.

‘Hello, ducks. What’s up?’

Nora’s rasping tones made Hetty drop a cup and it shattered on the cobblestones. She knelt down to pick up the pieces. ‘I’m sorry I was late. I got held up.’

‘You look terrible. Are you poorly?’

‘N-no, I’m fine, ta.’ Hetty bit back a sob. Her hands shook and she yelped with pain as a shard of broken china cut her finger.

Nora helped her to her feet. ‘Come over to me stall, love. I’ll bind that up, and you can tell me what’s got you in such a state.’ She led Hetty over to her sweet stall where a ragged boy, who could not have been more than six or seven, was about to steal a handful of boiled sweets. ‘Get away with you,’ Nora screeched, cuffing him soundly round the head. He dropped the sweets and his small face, which
was so blackened with grime that his features were indistinguishable, puckered as if he were about to howl. Nora popped a piece of fudge between his lips. ‘That’s enough of that, sonny. Pick up them sweets and take them away. I can’t sell nothing what’s been trodden underfoot. But if I catch you stealing again, I’ll tan your hide.’

The boy scrambled about on the ground, picking up the sweets and stuffing them in the pockets of his torn, threadbare breeches before scuttling off into the street. Nora pulled up a stool. ‘Sit there, Hetty, and you can tell me what’s up while I see to that cut.’ She bent her head to peer myopically at the wound. ‘It’s deep. I seen cuts like that turn green like rotten meat. You could lose your whole arm if the gangrene sets in.’ On this cheerful note, she lifted her skirt and tore a strip off one of her voluminous petticoats.

Hetty had not told anyone about Clench and his continued threats, but it was a relief to blurt it all out to Nora, who listened intently while she set about cleaning and bandaging Hetty’s injured hand. She showed neither shock nor surprise at Hetty’s revelations. She tied a knot in the bandage and stood back, folding her arms across her ample bosom. ‘Well, now. He’s a blighter and no mistake. You needs to steer clear of that one, girl.’

Hetty stood up, swaying slightly as a wave of dizziness overtook her. ‘Yes, I know.’

Nora pushed her back onto the stool. ‘Sit tight. You need some vittles inside you and a nice hot cup of tea.’

‘I – I haven’t got the fire pot going yet,’ Hetty said, half-heartedly attempting to rise.

‘Leave it to me.’ Nora thrust her money pouch into Hetty’s hands. ‘Watch me stall and don’t let them young knaves steal me sweets. I’ll see to the fire and I’ll get one of the girls to start slicing bread and ham for you. Don’t fret, ducks. You won’t miss the breakfast rush, if you do as I say.’ Nora bustled off, leaving Hetty feeling overwhelmed by such kindness and unaccountably wanting to cry.

Despite her great size, Nora was surprisingly quick and efficient. In a short space of time, she had the charcoal glowing in the fire pot beneath the can, and had co-opted a couple of girls from other stalls to start making the sandwiches. The stall was set up and Norah had served several customers before Hetty had had time to finish her cup of tea laced with sugar. Nora waddled back to her own stall, taking the money pouch from Hetty and tying it round her waist, which was a feat in itself. Hetty watched in fascination as the long strings were wound around Nora’s corseted but still enormous middle.

‘There, ducks,’ Nora said, panting for breath from the effort. ‘You look like you can take over without falling in a heap on the floor. And don’t worry about that bugger Clench. I’ve eaten men like him for me dinner. When it comes to six o’clock, he’ll find both you and me waiting for him in the pub. I can’t wait to see his face.’