Two for Three Farthings (16 page)

‘Oh, blooming blimey,' muttered Higgs to himself. He thought that what Jesus said to His disciples ought to remain private. But he began. ‘“Let not yer 'eart be troubled yer believe in God believe also in me in me—”'

‘Punctuation, Higgs.'

‘Yessir. “In me Farver's 'ouse are many mansions—”'

‘In me Farver's 'ouse?' said Mr Hill.

‘Yessir.'

Mr Hill shook his head.

‘You can do better than that. Look at the spelling. You've turned my into me, Father into Farver, and house into 'ouse.'

‘Yessir. Sorry, sir.' Higgs continued. ‘“If it were not so I would 'ave told yer and if I go—”'

‘Cheeky,' said Mr Hill. ‘You're dodging the column. Go back to “In my Father's house.”'

‘Yessir.' Higgs groaned. Painfully he said, ‘“In my Father's 'ouse – house – there are many mansions.”'

‘Better,' said Mr Hill. ‘Not exactly perfect, but better.' He persevered with the boy. The class listened. Finally, the teacher said, ‘All right, improvement noted, Higgs. Now, would you like to say something cordial and in fairly good English to our new pupil, Master Withers?'

‘Yessir. Like you said, ‘Orace Wivvers ain't wearing 'is farver's trousers.'

Mr Hill sighed. The class couldn't think why. Higgs's speech sounded all right to them. It was teachers who talked funny.

Orrice experienced a reasonable morning. Arithmetic was no problem to him. He helped Alice with hers. She surreptitiously slipped him a boiled sweet. He popped it into his mouth.

‘No, it's not for now,' she whispered, ‘you'll catch it sucking sweets in class.'

‘I'm suckin' it now to show yer I appreciate it,' murmured Orrice, dividing 27 into 405 with ease.

‘Oh, could we sit next to each other every day?' asked Alice.

Orrice almost swallowed his boiled sweet in his alarm. He had all the problems he wanted with Effel, always at his heels and getting in his way. He didn't want another girl doing it.

‘I'll let yer meet me sister at dinnertime,' he said. Effel would see Alice off.

At dinnertime, half the children went home for a meal. The rest stayed to eat what they had brought with them. Some had sandwiches, some just two slices of bread and marge, some an apple and a piece of cake. Jim arrived with fresh sandwiches for Effel and Orrice, who received them from him at the gate to the playground.

‘Brawn sandwiches with pickle,' he said.

‘Yer a sport, Uncle,' said Orrice.

‘Don't like brawn,' said Effel, unwrapping hers with a lack of interest.

‘Course yer do, I seen yer eat tons of brawn,' said Orrice.

‘That's wiv 'ot potatoes,' said Effel, ‘not between bread.'

‘Try it,' said Jim, and she took an obedient bite. She chewed and swallowed. ‘Awful?' said Jim.

‘I likes the pickle,' said Effel. It was Hayward's famous Military Pickle.

‘How did the morning go?' asked Jim, watching kids running about the playground.

‘We done drawing,' said Effel, and took another bite. With her mouth full, she mumbled, ‘I done a wreaf for our mum an' dad.'

‘A wreath?' said Jim.

‘I drawed it,' said Effel mournfully.

‘Well, that was a nice thought, Effel,' said Jim. ‘Ethel,' he mused correctively. ‘I'll be leaving you cold meat and boiled potatoes again for your suppers. A bit boring, but it's only for this evening. Tomorrow you'll go from school to Miss Pilgrim's. I'll prepare a nice supper for you.'

‘Ain't goin',' said Effel.

‘You're goin',' said Jim, ‘or Orrice will drown you.'

‘You went an' said no drowning,' protested Effel.

‘That was yesterday, or the day before,' said Jim. ‘So long now, be good. You too, Orrice.'

‘So long, Uncle,' said Orrice.

Jim, going on his way, stopped and turned.

‘Give Effel another Bible reading this evening,' he said.

‘Crikey, Uncle Jim, yer givin' me an 'ard life, you are,' said Orrice. Jim smiled and went on his way. Orrice and Effel went back into the playground. Alice came up, bright-eyed and fair-haired in a pinafore dress.

‘'Lo, Horace,' she said.

‘'Oo's she?' asked Effel aggressively.

‘She's Alice,' said Orrice, ‘she'd like to meet yer.'

‘You look nice,' said Alice to Effel, ‘what's your name?'

‘Ain't got no name,' said Effel.

‘But you have to have a name,' said Alice, one of the pupils, a minority, who didn't massacre the King's English.

‘Ain't telling you,' said Effel, who regarded Orrice as her exclusive property and all other girls as interlopers.

‘She's Effel,' said Orrice.

‘'Lo, Ethel,' said Alice.

‘G'bye,' said Effel.

‘Oh, I'm not going anywhere,' said Alice, ‘except can you come and do skipping with me, Horace?'

Effel muttered a hiss of rage, and Orrice tottered.

‘Skippin'?' he said, horrified. ‘Skippin'?'

‘I've got a new skipping-rope,' said Alice, ‘with pink handles. It's over there.'

Over there was where girls were skipping and eating sandwiches in between.

‘I don't do skippin',' said Orrice, slighly hoarse.

‘Oh, I'll show you,' said Alice, as eager as a girl already in love, ‘I'll show you how we can skip together.'

Orrice, aware of boys playing leapfrog and other manly games, said, ‘I don't feel well.' And he didn't.

Effel hissed, ‘'E ain't goin'. 'E's my bruvver, not yourn.'

‘But he's ever so nice,' said Alice.

Effel jumped up and down in her jealous rage.

‘Go away, or I'll kick yer!' she said.

‘Now, Effel, that ain't nice,' said Orrice.

‘Don't care,' said Effel, ‘I'll kick all 'er teef out, I will!'

‘No, yer won't,' said Orrice.

Fiendishly, Effel said, ‘I'll make 'er go away, I'll tell 'er you're pretty, that's what I'll do.' Orrice tottered again.

‘Oh, yes, he's the nicest-looking boy ever,' enthused Alice.

‘That's done it,' said Orrice, ‘I'm goin' to shoot meself, I am. I don't 'ave anyfing to live for now. I dunno, I betcher I done more good turns in me life than I've 'ad 'ot dinners, and where's it got me, go on, Effel, tell me that. 'ere, excuse me, I'm sure, but what do you want?'

Higgs had arrived, with two other boys.

‘Oh, I just wanted to show me mates yer wearing yer dad's trousers,' said Higgs.

Orrice, not liking any mention of his dad, showed a firm, balled fist. ‘See that?' he said. ‘No, yer can't see it, can yer? It ain't close enough. Now d'yer see it?' The hard young fist stopped inches from Higgs's nose.

‘I've seen bigger,' said Higgs.

‘Bigger or smaller don't count,' said Orrice, ‘it's how 'ard it feels when it cops yer sniffer. Which it is goin' to if yer don't take yer face away.'

‘Some other time, Wivvers,' said Higgs, and sauntered jauntily off with his pals.

‘Oh, you did talk to him heroic, Horace, and he's ever such a show-off,' said Alice. ‘Do come and skip, and I'll ask my mum if you can come to tea.'

Effel uttered a suppressed scream of fury.

‘Yes, well, if yer don't mind, Alice, I've got me sandwiches to eat, and I've got to go to the cloakroom as well,' said Orrice and left at the double. Effel ran after him. Alice sighed.

But there she was, sitting next to him in the afternoon class. And there was Orrice, appalled at the prospect of being followed about not only by his sister, but by a girl with a skipping-rope that had pink handles. Pink. Even his big-shouldered dad would have wept for him.

When classes were over for the day at four o'clock, Orrice noticed Alice lingering just outside the school doors. He dodged back into the boys' cloakroom. He took two or three cautious looks, but she was still there. He heard her ask a boy, ‘Have you seen Horace?'

‘Never 'eard of him,' said the boy.

She disappeared a few minutes later, and Orrice made for the gates and for Effel, who'd be waiting there. Alice popped up, but there was no Effel.

‘Where's Effel?' he asked.

‘She's gone after you,' said Alice.

‘Now how could she 'ave?' said Orrice. ‘I haven't gone, you can see I'm still 'ere.'

‘Oh, I think she thought you'd gone, and she started running to catch you up,' said Alice.

‘Crikey, what a carry-on,' said Orrice, and made tracks for Turquand Street, which would take him to Browning Street and up to Morecambe Street, where they were living with their guardian.

Effel ran about, looking. She didn't know where she was. She was always with Orrice, and recently with both him and their guardian. She always left everything to Orrice, including the geography of new ground. Her knowledge of this area's back streets, different from those around Deacon Street, was hazy. She was furious with her brother for going back to their lodgings without her, and she ran in a temper to catch him up, except that when she got to Browning Street she wasn't sure where to go from there. She ran and darted all ways without seeing him, and she didn't even know the name of the street in which they were living. She saw a policeman coming towards her. She turned and scampered round a corner, and she scampered on.

A little later she asked a lady where Walworth Road was. She knew Walworth Road. She felt she could find familiar signs there. She was directed to it. Reaching it, she stood looking, this way and that. She was a little agitated now. The trams were something of a comfort to her, for they were very familiar. Perhaps Orrice was in this road, looking at shops. He liked wandering about. She walked, her feet hurrying her, towards the town hall. She reached Browning Street, very familiar. She and Orrice and their guardian had been in Browning Street lots. There was a turning they had taken lots. She hurried down Browning Street, came to King and Queen Street, hesitated, then turned into it. Had she gone on only a fairly short way, she would have reached Morecambe Street and recognized it. But she went running along King and Queen Street. She came to East Street, the market. That panicked her a little. She'd already been in the market twice during her running search. She again missed Morecambe Street by turning right instead of left. She reached Walworth Road again. She ran in and out of pavement crowds. Tired and very agitated, she sat down in a shop doorway, tears of distress beginning to spill. People passed by. A man stopped. He stopped in front of her, peering at her.

‘'Ere, what's the trouble, girlie, what's them tears for?'

He had a large mouth, a large nose, and bushy black eyebrows. Effel did not see the genuine sympathy in his eyes. Cockneys had very warm hearts for little girls. Effel only saw the large nose and the bushy black eyebrows. She jumped to her feet and rushed away, and he lost sight of her among the pedestrians.

Effel just ran and ran.

Darkness had fallen over London when a hall porter put his head around the door of the main kitchen, sighted Jim and called to him.

‘Better come a minute, if you can, Jim, there's a boy askin' urgent for you. Say's his name's Horace.'

Jim dried his hand, took his apron off, received a nod from the chef, and went to discover what had brought Orrice to the club. Orrice was in the hall, by the door, cap in his hand, fingers twisting it.

‘Orrice?'

‘Effel's run off,' said Orrice. He looked worried and weary. He had been searching for hours, walking and running, asking and looking. Mrs Palmer, the landlady, and her husband were out on the steets of Walworth now, conducting a search, and Mr Palmer had talked about riding up to King's College Hospital to see if Effel had had an accident and been taken there. Orrice poured out his worries.

‘You haven't seen her since the end of classes?' said Jim.

‘Well, no.' Orrice was kicking himself for hanging back on account of Alice. ‘One of the girls said she'd gone off after me. Effel thought I'd gone when I 'adn't, and I wouldn't 'ave gone without 'er, honest. She ought to 'ave known that. I'm real worried, Uncle Jim.'

‘Well, I'd say she hasn't run off, Orrice,' said Jim gently, ‘I'd say she simply got herslf lost. It's a maze of streets, our part of Walworth, and she probably still can't pinpoint our lodgings. She's a very young girl, and it's a new walk for both of you, from the school to Morecambe Street.'

‘But it's an easy one,' said Orrice, a bit desperate.

‘To you perhaps.'

‘But could yer come, could yer 'elp me look for her?'

‘Of course. Hold on a moment.' Jim went to see the chef. He was back in less than a couple of minutes. ‘Come on, Orrice, let's cut through and get a tram in Blackfriars Road.'

His calm approach reassured Orrice a little, but on the tram the boy was still restless. Jim knew that brother and sister were inseparable. They argued with each other, quarrelled with each other, and made fun of each other. But they were still a united pair. More so since the death of their parents. Jim wondered if a policeman had picked up a wandering Effel, or if Effel herself had gone to a police station. He doubted she had, she was still at the stage of associating policemen with orphanages. In her way she was a determined little girl, but still wholly reliant on Orrice. Almost certainly she'd got herself lost, even though the school wasn't all that far from Morecambe Street.

Once off the tram, they hurried to Morecambe Street, to their lodgings, in hope. The Palmers were out, obviously still looking, proving themselves friends in a crisis. And there was no sign of Effel.

Jim did not want to go to the police for help, not yet at least. His relationship with the children was a tenuous one. There was always the possibility that authority would not approve him as a guardian.