A Place Called Home (11 page)

‘Did you find her friend Abe?'

‘I did, and she weren't with him. Sorry, kid, but I did me best.' Pearl reached into her pocket. ‘I got you a pie from the pub.' She produced a small grease-stained package and laid it on the table. ‘It's got a bit squashed, but they're the best pies in the East End.' She sank down on a chair and began to unlace her boots. ‘I got to get some sleep. I'm up at five to go and get me fish.'

Lucy snatched up the pie and peeled off the paper. Her stomach growled in anticipation and the delicious aroma made her mouth water. She had not eaten for hours and she was starving. She took a bite, tossing a piece of pastry to Peckham who gulped it down, wagging his tail furiously.

Pearl took off one of her boots, peering into the gloom as she dropped it on the floor. ‘Where's everything gone?'

‘I tidied up a bit,' Lucy said with her mouth full of pie. ‘I thought it would be a nice surprise.'

‘I won't be able to find a thing.' Pearl heaved off the other boot with a sigh of relief. ‘It's all right, love. You did your best, but I liked things as they was. Anyway, I'm going to get me head down and you should too. You'd best come with me in the morning. I can't leave you here alone.'

Early next morning, Lucy accompanied Pearl to Billingsgate market to purchase the fish she would sell that day. They went on to the Three Tuns tavern, where Pearl had an arrangement with the landlady, who cooked the fish in return for her help in preparing the fish dinners for which the pub was famous. Peckham was not allowed indoors, but he sat patiently outside the front entrance while Lucy made herself useful in the kitchen.

The landlady was a motherly woman who insisted that no one could work properly on an empty stomach, and she provided a breakfast of bacon, eggs and sausages for all the staff on duty at the time. Lucy ate hers with relish, saving a sausage to give to Peckham later, and then it was back to the slimy business of clearing up after Pearl and the kitchen boy, who was learning to be a cook. The bones and skin went into the stockpot for fish soup, and the guts were tossed into the river, to be scavenged by a squabble of seagulls.

It was almost midday by the time they had completed their tasks and the fish was fried to golden perfection. They set off with Peckham trotting at Lucy's side. ‘I always do well in Rosemary Lane,' Pearl said cheerfully. ‘You never know, we might find someone who's seen Eva, or she might turn up in person.'

‘I do hope so,' Lucy murmured breathlessly as she lengthened her stride in order to match Pearl's. ‘But I'm not giving up. I'm never going back to that house in Albemarle Street. I'd rather end up in clink.'

‘Don't you want to be a lady?' Pearl shot her a sideways glance. ‘You got that pretty little frock and good boots; what more could a kid your age ask for?'

‘Someone to love me like my granny does,' Lucy said with her bottom lip trembling. ‘No one cared for me in that place, least of all Sir William.'

‘But he's your grandfather, Lucy. He must care a bit or he wouldn't have gone to all that trouble to find you.'

‘He only wants me because he's got no one else, apart from that horrid man Linus Daubenay. He scared me, and I ain't scared easily.'

Pearl threw back her head and laughed. ‘You're a caution, Lucy Pocket. Come on, we'd best walk faster or the fish will be cold, and all my profits will fly out of the window.'

Lucy broke into a trot. Visions of pennies sprouting wings and flying up into the cloudless sky brought a smile to her lips. She was still in a dream when she realised that they had reached Rosemary Lane, and she had become separated from Pearl. Coming to a sudden halt she listened for the cries of ‘Fish, fresh fish', but all she could hear was the babble of voices and the shouts of the vendors extolling the virtues of their wares. At first she was unworried and she strolled along the street, stopping to ask if anyone had seen Eva Pocket, but the answers were the same as before. Then she spotted Carlos, who was difficult to miss with his bright orange billboards and his waxed and curled moustache. She rushed up to him. ‘Have you seen Pearl?'

He stared at her and his bushy black eyebrows shot up to his hairline. ‘I thought you had left us for better things, little one.'

‘I ran away,' Lucy said shortly. ‘I was with Pearl just now, but I've lost her.'

‘She's a difficult woman to lose,' Carlos said, chuckling. ‘Follow your nose and you'll find her.'

‘It's not funny. She's helping me to find my granny.'

His smile faded. ‘Ah, yes, the lovely Eva. I haven't seen her for a long time.'

‘You're no help,' Lucy said crossly. ‘I must find Pearl.'

‘You'll like as not find her in the pub,' Carlos called after her as she hurried off. She was angry with Carlos for laughing at her, and with Pearl for walking off without her, but most of all she was furious with herself for lapsing into a daydream when she should have been concentrating on more important matters. She broke into a run, dodging in and out of the milling crowds who were on the hunt for a bargain, but just as she reached the pub she found her way barred by a tall, well-dressed gentleman. ‘I thought I might find you here.'

She uttered a cry of fright and tried to sidestep him, but Linus Daubenay was too quick for her and he caught her by the arm, twisting it behind her back. ‘I know Eva's haunts of old,' he said triumphantly. ‘And when my uncle told me where he had eventually tracked you down, I knew exactly where to come.'

‘Leave me alone. I won't go back there. You can't make me.' She looked round for her dog, but he was nowhere to be seen. It was the first time he had strayed from her side and now she had genuine need of him.

‘Your grandfather has the police looking for you, but I've no intention of taking you to Albemarle Street,' Linus said casually.

‘I won't go anywhere with you. Let me go or I'll scream and me friends will come and save me.' She caught sight of Peckham, who was romping with another mongrel. She whistled and he was suddenly alert. He came bounding up to them, wagging his tail.

‘If that cur bites me I'll kill him,' Linus said through clenched teeth. ‘Keep him quiet or it's the last you'll see of him.' He twisted her arm, making her yelp.

Peckham leapt at him and Linus kicked out with his foot.

‘Don't hurt him,' Lucy cried. ‘I'll do what you want.'

He propelled her past the public house and into the next street, where a carriage was waiting. ‘Get in,' he said gruffly as the coachman leapt down to open the door.

‘I'm not going anywhere with you.' Lucy sent a pleading look at the coachman but he turned his head away.

‘Yes, you will,' Linus said firmly. ‘I'm taking you to find your grandmother. That's what you want, isn't it?'

‘Really?' Lucy stared at him, trying to decide whether he was telling the truth. ‘You know where my granny is?'

‘Of course. How else would I have known exactly where to find you?'

She decided that it was worth the risk. ‘All right, but my dog comes with me.' For a moment she thought he was going to refuse, but he gave her a curt nod and she climbed into the carriage, followed by Peckham. He jumped onto her lap and she held him so close that she could feel his small heart beating nineteen to the dozen. The warmth of his body gave her courage and she sat very still, staring out of the window so that she did not have to look at Linus when he took his seat opposite her. He tapped the roof with his cane and the carriage moved forward, slowly at first and then picking up speed.

The city streets flashed past the windows, which at first was exciting as every hoofbeat was taking her closer to her grandmother, but the journey seemed to be taking a long time. Linus sat with his eyes closed, although Lucy did not think that he slept. She cleared her throat noisily in an attempt to attract his attention. ‘Are you sure we're going the right way?'

He opened one eye. ‘It's none of your business, so shut up.' He opened both eyes when Peckham growled deep in his throat. ‘And keep that mongrel quiet or I'll pitch him out onto the road.'

Lucy subsided into silence, stroking the dog's head. It seemed strange that her grandmother had come this far, when they had always lived and worked in a small area of the East End. The manufactories and mills were giving way to flat and featureless open countryside: Lucy was beginning to panic. ‘Where are you taking me? Granny wouldn't have come this far out of London.'

‘Ask no questions, and you'll be told no lies,' Linus said smugly. ‘That's what my nanny used to say to me.'

Lucy could see that she was not going to get an answer, but she was growing more suspicious with every passing minute. She considered the likelihood of being fatally injured if she were to open the carriage door and jump out, abandoning the idea almost instantly. A broken neck would not solve her problems. She settled back against the leather squabs. If she bided her time until they stopped somewhere she might be able to give Linus the slip and make her way back to London.

She awakened with a start, realising that she must have fallen asleep. The inside of the carriage was in semi-darkness, but only a short while ago it had been morning. She peered out of the window and saw that they were in what looked like the middle of a forest. When the coachman opened the door she knew for certain that they were a long way from the polluted atmosphere of the city: the air smelled fresh and clean, with just a hint of wood smoke and the rich, fruity aroma of damp soil.

Linus roused himself. ‘This is your destination, Lucy Pocket.' He alighted from the carriage, leaving the coachman to assist Lucy. Peckham jumped to the ground and ran off into the trees, barking excitedly.

‘Where are we?' Lucy asked anxiously. ‘Where's my granny?'

‘Why don't you go into the cottage and see if she's there?'

The grim smile on his face confirmed her suspicion that she had been tricked. There was a triumphant set to his shoulders as he strolled towards the open cottage door. ‘Meg, where are you? What sort of welcome is this for your lord and master?'

Lucy turned to the coachman. ‘Where are we, mister?'

‘Epping Forest, miss. I wouldn't advise you to wander off on your own.' He climbed back onto the box, delving into the capacious pocket of his greatcoat and bringing out a pipe and a tobacco pouch. It was obvious to Lucy that he was not going to help her, no matter how much she pleaded.

‘Don't just stand there, child.' Linus turned and beckoned to her. ‘This is your new home.'

A young woman emerged from the cottage, brushing her mousy hair back from her forehead with a work-worn hand. Even at a distance of several feet Lucy could see the dark shadows beneath eyes which appeared too large for her pale face. She must, Lucy thought, have been beautiful once, but she looked as fragile as a winter rose, faded and dying from the cold. Linus slipped his arm around her shoulders and kissed her on the lips. Even to Lucy's inexperienced eyes it appeared to be a possessive gesture rather than an affectionate one. ‘I've brought you a helper, my dear,' he said, pointing at Lucy, who stood motionless and undecided. ‘This is Lucy Pocket. She'll be living with you from now on.'

‘I can't look after another child, Linus. I have my hands full already.' Meg clutched her belly in a gesture that Lucy recognised, having seen it many times in women worn away to almost nothing by constant child-bearing.

‘Lucy will help you with the children,' Linus said casually. ‘You've got Bramwell to help with the chores, and Hester to keep you all fed. What more do you want, woman?'

‘Have you come to stay this time, Linus?' Meg asked wearily. ‘If so, you'd better come in, and bring the child with you.' She retraced her steps, dragging her feet as if every step was an effort.

Linus threw up his hands. ‘Women! Who knows what goes on in their little minds?' He glared at Lucy. ‘Get inside. I'm not telling you again.'

Reluctantly, and partly because it had started to rain, Lucy followed him into the cottage, and was immediately assailed by the delicious aroma of baking bread and something savoury that was bubbling away in a pot on the range. The kitchen was surprisingly large, with a beamed ceiling from which hung bunches of herbs and strings of onions. Ladder-back chairs with rush seats surrounded a pine table, which was littered with cooking utensils. A middle-aged woman, who Lucy assumed must be Hester, was up to her elbows in water at the stone sink. She gave Lucy a curious glance and then carried on with what she was doing. Meg hurried across the flagstone floor to pick up a small girl, who was sobbing and pointing at a little boy who had a wooden doll in his hand and was swinging it around his head.

‘Bertie, you bad boy,' Meg said crossly. ‘Give it back to Vicky. It's not your toy.'

Linus looked on with barely veiled impatience. ‘Can't you stop her crying, Meg? Why is it that I come home to nothing but wailing infants?'

‘It's not as if you had nothing to do with their coming into the world, Master Linus.' Hester stopped what she was doing to glare at Linus.

Lucy could hardly believe that a servant would dare to speak to Linus in such a way. She fully expected him to berate her for her insolence, but he merely shrugged his shoulders.

‘You're a religious woman, Nanny. I thought you would call it God's will that we've been so blessed.'

‘Stop it, Linus. Don't tease Hester.' Meg took the doll from the boy and thrust it into the hands of her sobbing daughter. She picked her up and cradled her in her arms. ‘There, there, dear. You have your dolly back, so all is well.'

‘The children would be more blessed if they'd been born on the right side of the blanket,' Hester said gloomily. ‘Your poor mother would die of shame if she knew how you'd turned out, Master Linus.'