A Mother's Wish (36 page)

‘I dunno, love. Just be thankful that you wasn’t dragged through the courts. I take back everything I ever said about young Toby Tapper. He acted like a real gent, and it’s a crying shame that he’s gone down for something he didn’t do.’ Betty took the teapot to the table and poured two cups of tea, adding a generous amount of sugar to the one she pushed towards Effie. ‘Sit down and drink this. You won’t do no good by getting yourself in a state.’

‘What shall I do, Betty? I can’t let Toby go to jail for a crime he didn’t commit. What if I go to the police and tell them it was Mr Grey who set the barge on fire?’

‘They’d think you was lying to protect your man. I think they’d say it was an open and shut case.’

After a sleepless night, Effie left Georgie with Tom and made her way to the courthouse in Bow Road where a bespectacled clerk echoed Betty’s words. ‘It’s an open and shut case, miss,’ he said gravely. The words would be engraved on her heart, Effie thought, as she made her way slowly home.

Tom’s eyes widened with shock when she told him that there was nothing they could do to help Toby. ‘But there must be, Effie,’ he protested. ‘Can’t he appeal against the sentence?’

Effie shook her head. ‘That would take money. We can’t afford to pay the rent next week let alone find the money for a solicitor.’

‘I wish I had Salter here this minute,’ Tom said, fisting his hands. ‘I’d give him what for.’

‘He said he’d get even with me and he has.’ Effie sat down at the kitchen table, staring into the fire.

‘I start work tomorrow,’ Tom said stoutly. ‘I won’t bring home much but it will help.’

Effie flashed him a grateful smile. ‘What would I do without you, Tom?’

He puffed out his chest but his reply was drowned by the sound of someone banging on the front door. ‘I’ll go,’ he said, sprinting out into the narrow hallway with Georgie toddling after him.

Effie recognised Ben’s deep voice and she rose unsteadily to her feet, but she heard the front door close almost immediately followed by the echoing rumble of the beer barrel being rolled over bare boards.

‘What’s this for?’ Tom demanded as he pushed it into the room. ‘What use is an empty keg?’

‘I was going to brew beer and sell it outside the factories when the men knocked off work.’ Effie sat down again, glaring at the barrel as if it were to blame for the bad news she had received in the stable yard.

‘That’s a cracking idea if ever I heard one.’ Tom’s face shone with enthusiasm. ‘I’ve got the rest of the day free. Tell me what you need and I’ll go out and get it.’

‘Georgie needs new shoes. I’ve saved just enough to get him some from the dolly shop. I can’t afford to buy the things I need to make beer.’

‘Come on, Effie. Don’t give up. What would Toby say if he was here?’ Tom pulled her gently to her feet. ‘You won’t help him by sitting there doing nothing.’

‘It’s not just that. We need every penny we’ve got for food and we’ll have to use your wages to pay the rent.’

Tom angled his head. ‘There’s always the gold watch. I could take it to the pop shop and pawn it. That would keep us until you’ve got your brew ready.’

‘It’s Georgie’s inheritance,’ Effie protested. ‘I can’t let it go just like that.’

‘We’ll get it back when you sell your first brew. There might even be enough left for the omnibus fare to Clerkenwell. You could go and visit Toby in jail.’

Effie looked down at Georgie who had returned to his toy and was marching the wooden animals into the ark, two by two. Tom’s words had struck home and she felt a glimmer of hope. ‘You’re right,’ she murmured. ‘Stay here
with Georgie while I go to the pawnbroker. He might think it odd if a boy of your age turned up with an expensive gold watch.’ She forced her lips into a smile. ‘I don’t want to see you locked up in jail alongside Toby.’

Three weeks later on a bright sunny April afternoon the rainclouds had been chased away by a frisky breeze. Reflecting the colour of the sky, Limehouse Cut flowed through the city like a blue satin ribbon. With the sun warm on her back Effie trundled her wooden barrow through the streets to wait outside the factory gates. The cart was a new acquisition. Tom had found the wheels on the canal bank and had enlisted Harry Crooke’s help in the construction of the contraption, which had to be strong enough to transport the heavy keg. Harry had been only too pleased to come round each day after work, and they had turned the back yard into a carpenter’s workshop. Effie had kept them supplied with copious amounts of tea, and when the light faded making it too dark to continue Harry had come indoors to sit by the fire and chat. He was as enthusiastic about the prospect of home-brewed ale as Tom, and they were eager to sample the results of Effie’s labours. She had turned the front parlour into a brewery
and the whole house reeked of malt, yeast and hops.

The gold half-hunter watch had fetched a reasonable amount at the pawnbroker’s but nothing like its real value. Effie had spent it wisely and had bought two more second-hand barrels and two dozen pint mugs which now dangled from hooks on the cart. She was nervous as she waited for the factory hooter to sound signalling the end of the shift. Would the men simply barge past her without stopping to refresh themselves with a pint of ale? Would they like her home brew or would they compare it unfavourably with the beer they could get in the pubs? She had feared that Ben might take exception to her selling beer in the street, but he had said it was unlikely to affect his trade since his customers were mainly bargees or people from the south side of the cut. He had given her another barrel and a dozen half-pint tin mugs that were only slightly dented.

Effie shifted from one foot to the other as the steam whistles hooted a cacophony of sound, followed by the clatter of hobnail boots on concrete and cobblestones. The gates of the chemical works shrieked on their hinges as the gatekeeper swung them open. Effie stood aside as a stream of grime-encrusted men trampled the ground like a herd of stampeding cattle.

‘Slake your thirst, gents,’ Effie shouted in an effort to make herself heard above the din. ‘Home-brewed ale, a penny a pint. The best in Bow.’

Harry Crooke was the first to stop. ‘I’ll try a pint, young lady,’ he said, taking off his cap with a flourish. He held his hand out and took a mug from Effie, sipping its contents with an exaggerated smacking of his lips. ‘Excellent ale.’

Another man, equally dirty, stopped to give Effie a penny in exchange for a drink. Within minutes she was surrounded by eager customers holding out their money and clamouring for a pint. It was all she could do to wash and dry the mugs in an effort to keep up with demand, but the men did not seem to be too worried about cleanliness and they held out empty mugs they had taken from their mates, impatient to taste Effie’s brew. By the time the crowd had dispersed, she had an empty five gallon barrel and forty pennies in her purse. Exhausted but exhilarated, she trundled the cart homeward with the coppers clinking together like sweet music to her ears. As she reached the corner of Devons Road and Bow Common Lane she saw Harry leaning against a lamppost. He fell into step beside her. ‘You done well, Effie.’

‘You started them off,’ Effie said modestly.
‘I think I owe you a free pint or two for helping Tom with the cart.’

He puffed out his chest and his saunter turned into a swagger. ‘I’m your man, girl. Anything you want doing just send for Harry Crooke.’

‘You’ve done enough already. I don’t know what I would have done without the Crooke family.’

‘I’d do a lot more for you, if you’d let me,’ Harry said earnestly. ‘What do you say to an evening out, Effie? How about a visit to a music hall and a dish of jellied eels or a fish supper? My treat, of course.’

Effie stopped, drawing the cart to a sudden halt that caused the mugs and glasses to clink together as if in a toast. ‘I don’t think that would be such a good idea, Harry.’

He stared at her blankly. ‘Why not? You’re a free woman and I’m an unattached man. What’s to stop us getting together? I mean no disrespect, Effie. I can assure you that my intentions are strictly honourable.’

‘Oh, Harry, I know they are. I didn’t mean to insult you, it’s just that there’s someone else.’

‘What? D’you mean to say you’ve been stringing me along?’

‘Most certainly not. How dare you say such a thing?’

Harry’s open countenance was suffused by a deep flush. His ears shone pink in the rays of the setting sun. ‘You led me to believe that there was a chance for me, Effie. All that tea and sweet smiles and you was just leading me on.’

‘I was not. It was you who got the wrong end of the stick. I was just being myself.’

‘And it’s you I care for,’ Harry muttered, staring down at his boots. ‘You must have realised that I had feelings for you. I thought women knew that sort of thing.’

‘I thought you were just being kind. I know you like Tom and I thought you were his friend as well as mine. I’m sorry, I really am.’

‘There’s plenty of girls who would give their eye teeth for an evening out with a chap like me.’

‘Of course there are, Harry. You’re a splendid fellow and I’m very fond of you.’

‘Not fond enough, it seems. I still think you was leading me on, and I thought better of you, Effie Grey.’ With a dispirited hunch of his shoulders, Harry turned on his heel and strode off towards Phoebe Street leaving Effie staring after him.

Suddenly the pennies in her purse did not seem quite so important, and as the sun plummeted below the city skyline Effie pushed her barrow homeward. She should have seen this
situation coming and put a stop to it from the outset but she had been too busy with her brewing and her thoughts had been elsewhere. Not an hour passed when she did not think of Toby incarcerated in the house of detention, awaiting removal to a prison where he would work out the rest of his sentence. She had planned all along to spend some of her earnings on an omnibus trip to Clerkenwell in the hope of being allowed to see him; now she had the money and tomorrow was going to be the day. She quickened her pace with renewed energy and hope in her heart.

A week later, Effie stood outside the forbidding walls of Clerkenwell prison with Georgie in her arms. She had saved up her money for the omnibus journey from Bow and it had taken the best part of the morning. Georgie had been excited at first as if they were on a pleasure trip, but after the second change of vehicle, which had involved waiting in the pouring rain, he had become subdued and had fallen asleep in his mother’s arms during the final leg of their journey. A watery sun illuminated the grey stones of the prison walls but did little to cheer the dismal scene. Effie experienced a feeling of dread as she approached the gatekeeper’s lodge. She tugged at the bell pull and the sound reverberated around
an inner courtyard. A face appeared at the grille. ‘Yes?’

‘I want to see my husband,’ Effie said, hitching Georgie a little higher on her shoulder so that the turnkey could see him better. ‘I’m Mrs Tapper and my husband is Toby Tapper.’ It was a desperate lie but she had banked on the fact that a young wife might be allowed visiting privileges whereas a mere friend would be turned away.

‘It ain’t visiting time.’

‘When is it allowed?’

‘That depends.’

Effie slipped her hand in her pocket and produced a silver sixpence. The man shook his head. ‘Don’t take bribes, missis.’

Effie replaced the sixpence with a shilling. ‘That’s all I got, mister. I’m a poor woman left to fend for herself by an unjust sentence.’

‘They all says that.’

‘Please, mister. Have pity on a poor woman and her child. My boy hasn’t seen his pa for weeks.’

‘He’s lucky if he knows who his dad is,’ the turnkey muttered, snatching the coin from her hand.

The door opened and Effie entered the grim building. The walls seemed to shriek despair as she followed the turnkey across the forecourt, passing beneath a high arch
into a deserted inner yard. Pale faces stared down from narrow windows and it seemed to Effie that the place housed ghosts of men rather than flesh and blood mortals. They entered a sullen-looking building that stank of human excrement and filth. Rats scurried along the walls, glaring at them with diamond-chip eyes. Hands reached out through iron bars and voices pleaded for help. Georgie began to whimper and hid his head against Effie’s shoulder as they passed deeper into the building, each long corridor more horrendous than the last.

The turnkey stopped, produced a bunch of iron keys and unlocked a door. ‘Five minutes only,’ he said, stepping aside.

The cell was small and only dimly lit by a barred window set high up in the wall. She hardly recognised the unshaven, tousled-haired man who leapt to his feet, staring at her as if he had seen a ghost. ‘Effie, my love. Is it really you?’

‘Toby.’ Her voice broke on a sob.

‘Toby,’ Georgie repeated, holding out his arms.

His unquestioning acceptance of Toby’s dishevelled state seemed to break the tension. Smiling, Toby ruffled Georgie’s hair. ‘I’ve missed you, little fellow.’

Effie set her son gently down on the only
chair in the cell. ‘This is a dreadful place. I can’t bear to see you here, Toby.’ She would have walked into his arms, but he laid his hands on her shoulders, holding her away from him with a rueful grimace.

‘Don’t get too near me, darling. I’m alive with fleas and lice, and I must smell like the Thames mud at low water.’

His wry expression brought a reluctant smile to Effie’s lips although her eyes were moist with tears. ‘I don’t care. I’m just glad to see you. It was worth a shilling,’ she added in an attempt at levity. She could see that Toby was battling with his emotions and she could not bear to see him in such a weakened state.

He brushed his hand across his eyes, making an obvious effort to appear calm. ‘The old devil took money from you?’

‘I expect he does it to everyone. I said I was your wife.’

‘You are the wife of my heart, Effie,’ he said softly. ‘But you are young and you are free. I’m going to be in prison for a long time and you must make a life for yourself and Georgie without me.’

‘Never,’ Effie cried passionately. ‘Don’t talk like that. What has this place done to you to make you give up so easily?’