Perry Scrimshaw's Rite of Passage (14 page)

Ma stared at Eva and nodded.
‘You’re not half as daft as you look boy.’

Perry’s knees nearly buckled
with the relief.

‘
Joel, just the
one punter tonight. I can talk Eva through a few tricks this
afternoon. Then she can start in the next couple of
days.’

Perry looked to Joel, to Eva
and back to Joel again. They all knew what this meant. They would
have to skip town sooner than they thought.

15

Exhausted, Perry slept for an
hour and shook off the remainder of last night’s drink. After his
nap he felt fresher, splashed some water on his face and had a mug
of tea to ready himself. He could hear Eva and Ma talking upstairs.
He dreaded to think what Ma was “teaching” her. Joel was nowhere to
be seen, in town perhaps earning some more for their jar.

Money. Mr
Greaves’ counsel rang in his head.
The
question is how to keep more of it in your possession, more of the
time.
Would the four pound be enough for
them all? He wasn’t so sure. His instinct told him he needed more.
There was no question though, that he absolutely had to get Eva out
from Ma’s clutches. Time was running out. Fairbanks and Cecil were
after him, and as desperation started to flicker within him, so too
did the guilt for having wasted an hour sleeping. He knew it was
time for something radical.

In town, he
borrowed
The Southampton Times
off one of the paperboys he knew. He skimmed the
article on The Sick, the name in the by-line was all he needed.
Gilbert Catsnip.

A few minutes later, he was
outside Fairbank’s surgery. He took a deep breath and skipped up
the stone steps. As he entered, Cecil sprung out of his chair.

‘
You!’

‘
Relax,’ Perry
said, taking a seat. ‘I’m not going to run anywhere.’

‘
Ooooh!’ Cecil
rubbed his hands together, ‘We’ve got you now you little toerag, it
was only a matter of time! The gallows are too good for
-’

‘
-is Fairbanks
about?’

Cecil looked miffed. ‘Not
presently.’

‘
I’ll just wait
here then.’

‘
Why are you so
pleased with yourself? I’ll have the police here in a jiffy. You do
know that, don’t you?’

Perry forced a smile and kept
his bubbling nerves in check the only way he knew how - through
bravado.

‘
I’d wait to
speak to the doctor if I were you.’ He unfurled a penny dreadful
from his pocket, opened it and started reading. It was a story of
Claude Duval, a French highwayman, thieving first the purse of an
aristocrat and then his lady. He laughed heartily and smacked his
knee, mostly to annoy Cecil.

‘
Muck,’ Cecil
muttered.

A little while later, Fairbanks
saw a gentleman out of his office. It was Charles Brumpton.

‘
Brumpton.’
Perry mouthed, but Cecil, attuned to his every twitch and breath
picked up on it and looked down his nose at Perry.

‘
Yes, he owns a
number of pharmacies. Prestigious man, like most of our patients.
We don’t let your sort in as a matter of course.’

Brumpton left and Fairbanks
shuffled over to Cecil’s desk, squinting at some papers in his hand
as he walked. When he lifted his head and saw Perry, his mouth
opened in disbelief.

‘
How long’s he
been in our waiting room? Are the police on their way?’

Perry stood. ‘You won’t be
wanting the police, trust me. We’ll go through to your room shall
we?’

The office was
as he remembered, a little brighter perhaps. They sat on either
side of the desk. Perry fingered the switchblade in his
pocket.
Just in case
.

‘
I know about
you,’ Perry said.

Fairbanks poured whisky out of
a decanter into a crystal glass. He swilled it round the glass and
took a sniff, ‘I know about me too.’

‘
Do you know
who Gilbert Catsnip is?’

‘
Yes, some
journalist from the
Southampton
Times
.’

‘
The reporter
on The Sick, to be precise. Nice bloke. And dead keen to know how
it all started.’

Fairbanks cocked an eyebrow.
‘As are we all. What’s this all about? My patience is
threadbare.’

‘
Three
quid.’

Fairbanks knocked the amber
liquid back in one. ‘Child. I’m not following you.’

‘
That’s what
Catsnip is offering for the story. Experiments on prisoners. A
negligent doctor. A trail of bodies that lead back to the
prison…and you.’

Fairbanks hid his emotions well
enough, but Perry saw him stiffen.

‘
You’ve no
proof. You’re nothing more than a street urchin. Nobody in their
right mind would believe you.’

‘
He will when I
bring him the proof. I got that list of names off your desk didn’t
I? Nice headed paper with your signature at the bottom,’ Perry
watched with satisfaction as the colour faded from Fairbanks’ face,
‘I’ve got witnesses at the prison who are willing to be
interviewed, my Pa for one.’

Fairbank’s features darkened.
‘Sounds like you’ve got it all planned. If it’s all so perfect, why
are you even here? Why bother?’

‘
I was hoping
you’d ask me that. I’m leaving Southampton tomorrow, probably for a
long time, maybe forever, who knows... and we need money,
I
need money. You beat
three quid and the story can disappear off with me.’

‘
We
need money? That bruised peach? Is she in league
with you in this disgusting blackmail?’ Fairbanks topped up his
glass.

‘
Think about
it, I’m more likely to disappear if you give me the
money.’

‘
Or if you were
dead.’ Fairbank’s took a sip and winced. ‘What’s to stop you taking
my money then selling the story anyway?’

‘
Nothing but my
word,’ Perry admitted.

Fairbanks slammed the glass
down, whisky slopped over the glass walls, ‘Actually not nothing
you smug little shit. I can KILL your father. Have you thought
about that eh? If this story ever makes the paper I will stick the
syringe in him myself,’ his expression darkened further, ‘and I’d
make it hurt too.’

Perry steadied his breath, kept
his face still, unemotional; don’t give anything away.

‘
It’s all he
deserves. Haven’t seen him since I was seven.’

Fairbanks leant back on his
chair. ‘You’re a good liar, I’ll give you that.’ He got out his
wallet. ‘Like this?’ he waved it in front of him. ‘It’s new. Some
deplorable scum stole my last one.’

‘
That’s
Southampton for you.’

Fairbanks took out a note and
placed it under a paperweight on his desk.

‘
There’s a
pound note. It’s all I have.’

‘
The paper is
offering three. One will barely get me to France. You really want
me that close to home?

The doctor narrowed his eyes.
They held each other’s gaze. The doctor broke first, stooping to
open a cabinet, revealing a small safe within. ‘I will give you
your money. But I swear to you. If the story gets out – I will kill
Samuel Scrimshaw as painfully as I know how. Your little lies don’t
convince me.’

Perry shivered, he hadn’t
counted on being threatened back. ‘There’ll be no need. You won’t
ever see me again.’

The doctor turned, the money in
his hand. Perry had never seen so much in his life; freedom in
paper form.

‘
You take this
and get out of my life.’

Perry grabbed the notes and
stuffed them in his pocket and headed for the door.

‘
And
Perry?’

He stopped.

‘
If I do see
you again, I swear I’ll kill you too.’

16

On Friday morning, Perry woke
in a sweat. The prospect of four more pounds today on top of what
he’d got yesterday had molested his sleep. Joel slept soundly at
his side in the bundle of blankets on the kitchen floor. Silently
as he could, Perry went into Eva’s room, woke her and told her the
plan. She took his hand, pressed it to her lips.

‘
Be careful,’
she said.

He leant in, Eva tilted her
head towards him and their lips met. They kissed long and deep and
Perry felt a primal tug within, one he’d never felt before yet it
was almost familiar. It told him that he would do anything for
her.

Five minutes later, he was in
the cold morning air. It was still dark though he reckoned the
greys of dawn weren’t far off. He trundled downhill with the maids
and port workers, breathed the same Southampton air as them; salt,
soot and shit. He followed a tall fellow down the hill. He swung a
cricket bat in time with his stride and whistled an old sailor’s
tune that Perry knew.

It was nearly light by the time
he reached the cobbles of Saddlers Mews and Mr Greaves’ dark-green
door.

‘
Good, you’re
early.’

‘
I was
wondering when you might be able to pay me today Mr Greaves? My
sister see, she needs some medicine and-’

‘
- Really boy.
You’ve a lot to learn. Your shilling will be paid at the end of
each week.’

‘
And the four
pound?’

‘
Depends on
what happens this morning doesn’t it?’

Greaves explained Perry’s work.
It sounded straight forward enough. The temp dock-workers were
arriving from Portsmouth on the seven-thirty. It was his job to
fetch them and lead them to the warehouse by the docks.

Perry hurried from the mews and
went to the train station. He approached from the north, squeezing
through the gap in the fence and crossed the tracks. He passed a
line of empty freight cars and clambered up some wooden steps onto
the platform. A clock ticked. It was a smidge before half-past
seven. The ticket booth was abandoned; a wooden board covered the
hatch. It was oddly quiet, the only other person was a thuggish man
at the far end of the platform, straining his neck to look down the
track. The man had a cricket bat in his hand.

Perry flattened himself against
the wall, his pulse racing. Two cricket bats he had seen that
morning and he would bet his life they weren’t out to knock a
century. When he checked again, the thug was gone.

Outside the station, chimney
smoke joined the sky’s grey. The thug with the bat stalked down a
street by the post office. Perry followed and peered round to see a
group of forty or more, all clutching pipes, bats and sticks.
Maxwell was there, easy to spot with his crooked hat. Perry’s
breath caught in his throat. They looked mean enough to kill.

Perry was so terrified he
thought his knees might buckle. Every hair and goosebump on his
body was telling him to run but somehow he couldn’t. He’d involved
himself, was making money from it and now it was shaping up to be a
bloodbath. He had to try and avert near-certain disaster.

The group of men stopped
whispering as he neared.

‘
Why are you
waiting here?’ he addressed the question to Maxwell in a shaky
voice, but another leaned round to reply.

‘
We’re on
strike young ‘un, you clear off before it gets ugly round
here.’

‘
Strike, yes of
course,’ Perry said as calmly as he could, ‘but why
here
?
I know if I was waiting for…strike-breakers for instance, I
know
I’d
want to
be in the right place.’

‘
What do you
mean?’ said Maxwell.

‘
I wander
around the docks from time to time, hear a few things.’

‘
Things?’

‘
Like how
Greaves planned to bring in strike-breakers from Portsmouth for
instance.’

‘
Well we know
that don’t we?’ he smiled and patted the rolling pin in his
hand.

‘
I bet you
heard they were arriving on the seven-thirty from Portsmouth,
right?’

Maxwell’s smile vanished.

‘
Greaves
actually paid a few people a handsome sum to spread
that
rumour. Clever
really.’

The group behind Maxwell began
murmuring to one another. Maxwell grabbed Perry by the collar and
lifted him up against the wall. His shirt cut in and he gasped for
air.

‘
Tell me what
you know!’

Perry shook his head defiantly
and felt his face burning. He wheezed and closed his eyes. Then his
feet thudded to the ground, the surprise sent him to his knees.

‘
Tuppence and
I’ll tell you,’ he stared at the pavement. He heard Maxwell take a
few steps back.

‘
Fine, I’ll
kick it out of you,’ Maxwell took a run up. Perry squeezed his eyes
shut and tensed his stomach and waited for the pain - but the kick
didn’t come. He opened his eyes and saw Maxwell’s leg hanging in
the air an inch from his stomach. A coin flung through the air and
landed Queen Vic up.

‘
There’s no
time for this. Let him talk,’ it was Bigtoe.

‘
Bigtoe! The
train was just a trick, I heard Greaves laughing about
it.’

‘
You know him?’
Maxwell said.

Bigtoe nodded. ‘But if they
ain’t coming on the train, how are they getting here?’

‘
By
boat.’

Murmurs chorused around the
band of striking dockers.