The Constant Heart (24 page)

She rubbed her cheek against Arthur's downy head, inhaling the delicious baby smell of him. He was so small and helpless; Ronnie and Alfie were equally vulnerable and in need of protection. There were so many people who were relying on Papa and his ability to resume trading on the river. If he could not do so, then the future looked bleak for all of them. She was painfully aware that Caddie's greatest fear was of being forced to go into the workhouse. Rosina was determined that as long as she had a breath left in her body that would never happen, but it was becoming more and more difficult to be positive.

The money that Walter had secured, presumably from unpaid debts, had long since run out and their only income was obtained by pawning their belongings. The first thing to go was the clock from the mantelshelf above the kitchen range. The pair of Staffordshire dogs from the parlour had been next; Papa had been upset to see them go because they had been a wedding present, but the cash had paid for coal and candles. The picture of Highland cattle had fetched enough to pay the butcher for beef bones for soup, and a sack of potatoes. The pewter candlesticks had paid for a small bag of coal, and bread and milk for the children; if there was to be any supper tonight, she must find something else of value to take to the pawnbroker's shop.

'I want more,' Ronnie said, eyeing the crust that Alfie was chewing. 'I'm hungry.'

Rosina's stomach was rumbling; she had given her slice of bread to the children. 'Drink your milk, Ronnie. Then you and Alfie can go out in the yard and play with that India-rubber ball that Walter gave you.'

Alfie stuffed the last piece of bread into his mouth and clambered down from his chair. 'Play ball, Ronnie.'

Arthur opened his blue eyes and Rosina hitched him over her shoulder, patting his back. She rose to her feet. 'Out you go, boys. Go and find Mamma.' She opened the door and shooed them out through the scullery into the back yard.

Caddie peered at her through a cloud of steam that was billowing from the bubbling copper. She smiled as her sons darted past her in a race to get the ball. 'They're growing so fast, Rosie. Ronnie will soon be out of petticoats, although I dunno where I'm going to get the money to buy him new clothes.'

'We'll worry about that when the times comes,' Rosina said with more confidence than she was feeling.

'He's asleep, the little lamb,' Caddie said, smiling fondly at the sleeping baby. 'It's ever so good of you to help me with the nippers. I'm sure you got better things to do than to mind someone else's baby.'

'He's a little darling, and I love him, but I do have a few things to attend to.'

'Of course you do. Put baby in his bed. He should sleep for an hour or two and I'll listen out for him.'

Rosina carried Arthur back into the house and was about to mount the stairs when the front door opened. She spun round, hoping to see her father, but it was Walter who entered. He came towards her, taking off his cap, and an appreciative smile lit his eyes. 'You look so comfortable with a baby in your arms, Rosie.'

'Comfortable isn't the word I would have used, Walter. I think young Arthur needs changing. He's a bit damp.'

'Let me take him.'

'You? What do you know about babies?'

'Not very much, but I like the little chaps.' He took Arthur from her and cradled him in the crook of his arm. 'See! Nothing to it.'

'You wait until he opens his mouth to cry.'

'Then I will hand him back to you immediately. Where do you want me to put this young fellow?'

'I was taking him to Caddie's room to put him down for a nap.' She held out her arms. 'Shall I take him now?'

'No. Let me carry him upstairs.'

'Walter, I didn't know that you were so domesticated.'

'There are a lot of things about me that you don't know.' He mounted the stairs.

She was about to follow him when Edward entered the house, slamming the door behind him. 'Papa?' She hesitated, glancing up at Walter.

'It's all right, Rosie,' he replied in answer to her unspoken question. 'I think I can manage to make this chap more comfortable and put him to bed.'

She went slowly towards her father. 'Papa?'

Edward shook his head. 'The old fool of a bank manager wouldn't listen to me. He was polite enough, but he said he wasn't in the shipping business, and he inferred that I was past me prime, the cheeky bastard – begging your pardon, poppet.'

She kissed him on his whiskery cheek. 'Go upstairs to the parlour, Papa. I'll bring you a nice cup of tea.'

'I need something stronger than tea.'

Rosina said nothing. She knew that the last drop of brandy had been drunk after the funeral. She watched her father as he climbed slowly up the stairs. His shoulders drooped and he had the look of a beaten man. She bit back the tears that stung her eyelids, and she went into the kitchen to make a pot of tea. The tea leaves had been used so many times that they were almost transparent, the children had drunk the last of the milk for breakfast, and there was no sugar. At least the coal had lasted long enough to keep the kettle simmering. She made a brew and was pouring the straw-coloured liquid into a mug when Bertha bustled into the kitchen.

'What's going on, Rosie? I was cleaning your room when I heard footsteps on the stairs. And blow me, if it wasn't young Walter going up to Caddie's room with the babe in his arms.'

'Papa came home just as I was taking Arthur upstairs for his nap and Walter offered to take him for me.'

Bertha puffed her cheeks out. 'Well, it ain't proper for a young man to go into a woman's bedroom. I'll have words to say to Walter when he comes back downstairs.'

'Oh, please, Bebe. Leave Walter alone. He's been so good to us through all our troubles.'

'Huh!' Bertha picked up the teapot. 'Men are all the same if you ask me.'

Rosina did not ask her. She hurried out of the kitchen with the mug in her hand, and went upstairs to the parlour.

Edward was sitting on the window seat, staring down at the bustling activity of Black Eagle Wharf. He turned his head as she entered the room. 'It's no use, Rosie, dear. I have to be honest with you. I don't see any way out but to sell the old girl.'

'But that's terrible, Papa. You can't even think of selling the
Ellie May
.' Rosina deposited the mug on the table and went to sit by his side. She took his hand in hers: it felt unnaturally cold and clammy. 'Don't upset yourself, Papa. I'm certain there must be another way.'

'That old girl is part of me, Rosie. To sell her will be like cutting off my own arm, but I can't let her disintegrate into a hulk.'

'Are things so bad? Surely there must be someone who could lend you the money?'

'I've exhausted every avenue, poppet. It's sell the
Ellie May
or face bankruptcy.'

Rosina gazed out of the window at the stricken vessel moored alongside the wharf. She could see Captain Barnum on board the
Curlew
and Barker making ready to sail. Harry was there too and he looked up, as if he sensed that she was watching him. He waved and smiled. Now he was heading this way. She looked at her father, who seemed to have shrunk to half his normal size since his illness. He had almost certainly lost weight, and his complexion was unnaturally pale for a man who had spent most of his life braving the elements. She could not bear to see him suffering so, even though he was putting a brave face on things. There was one solution and one alone. The fate of the
Ellie May
, of Papa and Bertha, of Caddie and her babies, and even Walter, was in her own small hands.

She rose to her feet, dropping a kiss on her father's lined forehead. 'Don't worry, Papa. Things will turn out well, you'll see.' Picking up her skirts, she ran downstairs to open the door to Harry.

'My dear, you look ravishing as usual.' He doffed his hat and the sun glinted with coppery lights on his dark auburn hair. 'Absolutely stunning, in fact.'

'You are such a flatterer, Harry.'

Hand on heart, he smiled. 'I only speak the truth. Do I dare hope that you wanted to see me?'

She glanced over her shoulder. Caddie and the children were still outside in the yard, but now Bertha was sitting in the kitchen like a big fat spider in its web, just waiting to grab her and make her tell everything. She knew that she really ought to fetch her bonnet from the kitchen, but if she did that Bertha would want to know where she was going, and why. She stepped outside and tucked her hand in the crook of his arm. 'Will you walk with me, Harry? I have something to say to you.'

'Of course, my darling. Anything you wish.'

She glanced upwards, knowing instinctively that Walter would be standing in the attic room, looking out of the window. He shook his head and held his hands out to her as if begging her not to proceed with her intention. As always, he seemed to know what was in her heart and her head. She looked away, ignoring his unspoken plea. 'Let's walk this way,' she said, pointing in the direction of Union Stairs. She did not want to have the whole of Black Eagle Wharf watching them when she told Harry that she would marry him.

When they reached the top of Union Stairs Harry stopped, turning to her and taking both her hands in his. 'Well, then, my love. Are you going to put me out of my misery?'

She could not meet his intense gaze and she stared down at the oily brown water lapping at the steps. Fronds of green slime clung to the stones, and pieces of flotsam danced on the surface of the water. The air was heavy with the stench of boiling animal bones and hooves from the glue factory, and the choking acetic smell from the brewery downriver, where vinegar was being produced by the barrel. A couple of mudlarks were wading knee deep, stooping now and then to snatch up lumps of blue-black coal and dropping them into rush baskets slung round their skinny necks. She felt a gentle pressure on her fingers as Harry squeezed her hands. 'My love? Don't keep me in suspense.'

She raised her eyes to his face. 'Do you still want to marry me, Harry?'

'More than anything in the whole world, my darling.'

He seemed so sincere, so solid and reassuring. The future of those dearest to her depended on her answer. 'Then I accept.'

Careless of the men working on the docks, the crane drivers leaning out of their cabs, and the mudlarks who were whistling and shouting words of encouragement, Harry seized her in his arms and claimed her lips in a fervent kiss. 'Oh, my darling,' he whispered, holding her so close that she could scarcely breathe. 'You've made me the happiest man in Wapping. No, the happiest man in the whole of London.'

He took off his hat and tossed it up in the air, catching it with a deft movement, but still managing to keep one arm round her waist. 'Hurrah!'

'Give her a smacker, guv,' one of the mudlarks shouted.

Harry laughed and put his hand in his pocket. He pulled out a handful of coins and tossed them into the river. The two boys dived beneath the water liked a pair of cormorants and came up, coughing and spluttering.

'Really, Harry,' Rosina said, feeling a blush rise to her cheeks as the men on the quay wall shouted encouragements to him. 'You're embarrassing me.'

He kissed her again to a round of applause from the onlookers. 'I want the whole world to know that you have agreed to be mine at last, Rosie.'

'I – I thought perhaps we could keep it a secret for now.'

'What? I've never heard such a nonsensical idea. Why would we need to keep our love a secret?'

She started walking in the direction of home and Harry lengthened his stride in order to keep up with her. 'Darling, have I said something to upset you? I didn't mean to – it's just that I'm so happy. Do stop, Rosina. Tell me what's bothering you.'