A Place Called Home (17 page)

Lucy gave him a long, pitying look. ‘You have no heart, Linus. I always thought so, and now I know I was right.'

He shrugged his shoulders. ‘Spare me the sermon. Will you take them or do I put them in the workhouse? It's a simple question.'

‘Of course I'll look after them. They're my flesh and blood.'

‘And sixty guineas is a small fortune. Think yourself lucky, my girl. I could have had you thrown out of Albemarle Street with nothing and nowhere to go.'

‘I think my grandmother must have known what sort of fellow you would turn out to be, which is why she left her house to the child she had never set eyes on.'

‘Much good it will do you. Property in the East End is worth nothing. You'll end up taking in thieves and vagabonds, drunks and prostitutes. By this time next year you'll be running a brothel.'

‘Think what you like, but I promise you that won't happen. Your children will be safe with me and I won't let anything or anyone harm them.'

‘To be perfectly honest, I don't care what happens to them.' Linus produced a leather wallet from his breast pocket and counted out crisp five pound notes. ‘Thirteen,' he said, grinning. ‘An unlucky number.' He tossed the money onto the table. ‘The court hearing is next week. It will go my way and when it does I'll give you two days' grace; after that I want you out of this house taking your personal possessions and nothing else.'

‘What about Hester and the children?'

He took a slip of paper from his wallet and handed it to her. ‘They are in temporary lodgings in Dorset Street, Spitalfields. Taking into consideration your early upbringing, you should feel at home in that sort of area.' He picked up his top hat, gloves and cane. ‘I'll bid you good day. Or should I say farewell?'

‘Goodbye, Linus. I hope we never meet again.'

‘The feeling is mutual.' He was about to walk past her, but he stopped, leaning over her with a grim expression twisting his handsome features into an ugly mask. ‘I'm a dangerous man to cross. Remember that, Lucy Pocket. I call you that because you're not a Marriott by birth.' He left the room, allowing the door to close of its own accord. The sound echoed throughout the silent house.

No matter how shocked she was by Linus's cavalier treatment of his own children, Lucy was determined to make a home for her young cousins. Suddenly the move to Whitechapel did not seem such a daunting prospect, despite the obvious disadvantages, and the first thing she did was to mobilise the underservants in Albemarle Street. The next day she set off in the carriage with two housemaids and a plentiful supply of carbolic soap, soda crystals and chloride of lime to disinfect the drains. Mops and broomsticks stuck out of the windows like the prickles on a hedgehog, and buckets were crammed with dusters, cleaning cloths and scrubbing brushes. It was not a comfortable journey, but as soon as they arrived Lucy engaged Tapper's services to help them unload while Franklin was sent to purchase coal, kindling and matches so that a fire could be lit and water heated in a large cauldron, which Cook had reluctantly allowed Lucy to borrow with strict instructions to return it at the end of the day.

By noon Lucy was beginning to realise that they were hopelessly understaffed, and the two housemaids were flagging. She sent Franklin out to buy hot pies and baked potatoes from street vendors, but they needed more help and she was struck with a sudden idea. She summoned Tapper, who had been clearing some of the crates and empty beer bottles from the back yard, and gave him instructions to drive her to Dorset Street.

Linus had not exaggerated when he had described the place where Hester and the children had been forced to reside. Having insisted that Tapper must wait at the corner of Dorset Street and Commercial Street, Lucy wrapped her shawl around her head and set off, walking briskly and ignoring the taunts from slatternly women who hung around in doorways soliciting for trade. Their barefoot, filthy children played in the street, which was knee-deep in straw, horse dung and rotten vegetable matter that clogged the gutters and polluted the atmosphere. Flies feasted on corpses of dead rats and birds, half eaten by feral cats, but suddenly she was ten years old again and unafraid. She was used to this sort of life – Granny had taught her how to look after herself, and, if all else failed, when to take flight. She held her head high and made for the address that Linus had scribbled on a scrap of paper torn from his pocket book.

An old woman was attempting to sweep dust onto the pavement but was hampered by a gang of urchins who had decided that she made a good target and were throwing stones at her. Lucy caught one of them by the ear. ‘Leave her alone, you little brute. How would you feel if someone threw pebbles at your granny?'

‘She is me gran,' the boy snarled. ‘Lemme go, you stuck-up tart.'

Lucy released him with a smart cuff round the ear which made him yelp with pain. ‘That's for nothing. See what you get for something.' The expression came back to her from childhood, when she had tried Granny's patience too far. She marched up to the woman, who was leaning on her broom, watching with her mouth open. ‘Are you all right, missis?'

‘He had that coming, the little bugger. I'll swing for him one day.' She shook her fist at the boy, who ran off to join his mates, cocking a snook and shouting obscenities.

‘I'm looking for Miss Gant,' Lucy said hastily. ‘Do you know where I might find her?'

The old woman put her head on one side, a calculating look in her eyes. ‘How much is it worth?'

Lucy put her hand in her pocket and took out a penny, but the woman shook her head. Lucy offered her tuppence and her informant snatched it. ‘Back room, basement.'

Inside the building Lucy had to step over objects scattered on the floor, taking care not to get her heels caught in the many gaps where the floorboards had rotted away. She pressed herself against the damp wall to avoid being mown down by a burly man who rushed out of a doorway doing up his trousers. He stumbled off, muttering beneath his breath. She moved on, feeling her way along the walls of the dark corridor until she found the basement door. Stone steps led down to what was in reality a large cellar with only a grille above eye level to allow in just enough light to make out huddled shapes on the floor. Stepping over inert bodies and clutching her hanky to her nose in an attempt to escape the disgusting stench of human excreta and overflowing drains, Lucy heard the sound of a child crying. ‘Hester,' she called as loudly as she dared. ‘Hester, where are you?'

‘Who's that?' A faint voice answered her from the depths of the darkness.

‘Hester, it's Lucy Pocket. I've come to help you.'

A bedraggled figure emerged from the gloom. ‘Lucy?'

‘Linus sent me.' Lucy reached out and caught Hester by the sleeve as she started to back away. ‘Don't be frightened. I've come to take you and the children away from this dreadful place.'

Another figure appeared at Hester's side. ‘Who are you? Is this a trick?' The boy's voice cracked on a suspicious note.

‘Bertie, is that really you?' Lucy gazed at him in amazement. The small child she remembered had grown tall and slim and was on the verge of manhood. ‘You won't remember me,' she added hastily. ‘Your father brought me to your cottage in the forest many years ago. You were only little then.'

‘I'm fourteen. I'm the man of the house, or I would be if we still had a proper home.' He held his hand out to two girls who were lurking in the shadows. ‘I take care of my sisters.'

Hester moved closer to Lucy, staring at her suspiciously. ‘I remember you, but you were just a child in those days. Why would that brute send you here to taunt us? Hasn't he done us enough harm already?'

‘Linus is no friend of mine,' Lucy said, glancing nervously over her shoulder as one of the other denizens of the cellar rose from his patch of straw and lumbered towards them. ‘Let's get out of here.' She held her hand out to Hester. ‘I'm here to help you.'

‘So you say, but you're a lady,' Hester said doubtfully. ‘What would a lady want with the likes of us?'

‘I trust her,' Bertie said suddenly. ‘Anything is better than this, Hester.' He beckoned to his sisters. ‘Let's get out of this stinking pit.'

Lucy led the way, hoping that Hester would see sense and follow them. The atmosphere in the cellar had changed subtly; shadowy figures had risen from their beds and were advancing on them like wolves surrounding their prey. She knew only too well that desperate people like these needed little excuse to set about a stranger and strip them naked, robbing them of everything. Racing up the steps, she did not stop until she reached the street. She came to a halt, taking deep breaths of air that was far from country fresh, but anything was better than the stench in the cellar. Bertie led his sisters from the house with Hester stumbling after them. They blinked, screwing up their faces, blinded by the daylight.

‘How long have you been underground?' Lucy asked gently. ‘Why did you stay there, Hester?'

‘Where else would we go, miss?' Hester avoided meeting Lucy's eyes. ‘He left us penniless and with nowhere to turn for help. I went to his house and begged him to look after the children, but he laughed in my face.'

‘I tried to find work,' Bertie said sulkily. ‘But they called me country boy and sent me packing.'

‘I tried too,' Vicky murmured. ‘But a man caught hold of me and dragged me into an alley. He put his hand up my skirt and I screamed.'

Bertie turned on her angrily. ‘Lucky for you that I was following close behind or you might have ended up in the river. I told you to stay with Hester but you wouldn't listen.'

‘This isn't getting us anywhere,' Lucy said firmly. She glanced at the younger girl and smiled. ‘What's your name? We haven't met before.'

The child bobbed a curtsey. ‘Maggie, miss. I was called after Ma.' Her blue eyes filled with tears. ‘She died and went to heaven.'

‘I know, and I'm very sorry for your loss.' Lucy patted Hester on the shoulder, seeing the older woman was also close to tears. ‘My carriage is waiting at the end of the road. I'm going to take you somewhere safe.'

Hester moved closer to her, lowering her voice. ‘He said he'd kill me if I pestered him for money, although God knows how he thought I was going to care for the children. He's an unnatural father and he's capable of anything.'

‘You won't see him again,' Lucy said firmly. ‘And that's a promise.'

Franklin and Tapper were too well schooled to allow their feelings to show, but Lucy could feel disapproval and distrust emanating from them in waves as she helped the children into the carriage. Hester followed with her head bowed as if ashamed of her dirty and dishevelled state.

When they reached the house Lucy sent Franklin out to purchase more food. She filled the stone sink with hot water from the simmering cauldron, and gave Hester a towel and soap, leaving her to supervise the children while they had a wash. She refilled the pot with water and hung it over the flames. It would take some time to heat up, but cleaning the house came a poor second to looking after her charges.

Franklin arrived with more pies and baked potatoes and the children fell on the food, swallowing huge mouthfuls as if they were afraid it might be snatched away from them. While they were busy eating Lucy took the opportunity to explain how she came to be in her present situation. She tried not to make Linus out to be too much of a villain, telling the children that their father wanted them to be well cared for, and keeping the fact that he wanted nothing further to do with them to herself. She suspected that Hester already knew, and Bertie gave her a sceptical glance, saying nothing. The boy, she thought, was older than his years.

‘So you see,' she concluded with an attempt at an encouraging smile, ‘I need your help to make this house into a home.'

‘You want us to work for you,' Bertie said angrily. ‘You were rich and had servants and you think we'll do their job for nothing.'

‘Bertie!' Hester glared at him, shaking her head. ‘That's uncalled for. Miss Lucy is trying to help us.'

‘It's just Lucy. I'm not Miss Lucy any more, and never really was.' Lucy faced Bertie, knowing that only the truth would do. ‘I was a child of the streets before my grandfather found me, but the best time I ever had was in the forest with you and Bram.'

‘Bram's gone to be a soldier,' Vicky said eagerly. ‘He's ever so brave.'

Maggie's eyes filled with tears. ‘But he won't know where to find us when he comes home. He'll go to the cottage and there'll be strangers living there.'

Hester rose from the table and started clearing away the plates. ‘If he comes home,' she said in a low voice.

Lucy saw Vicky's lips tremble and Bertie turned his head away. She stood up. ‘You aren't servants. This is your home and it will be what we make it, so let's go and choose your rooms. You girls can share, if you like, but I'm sure Bertie would like somewhere that he could call his own.' She smiled as she saw their faces light up.

Bertie leapt to his feet. ‘Do you mean that?'

‘You may have first pick,' Lucy said firmly. ‘You too, Hester. I'm sure you want a say in where you're to sleep tonight.'

‘Are you sure about this, Lucy?' Hester asked in a low voice as she followed Lucy from the kitchen. ‘What will we do if you decide to sell up?'

‘That won't happen. This will be our home from now on. It's where I grew up until I was forcibly separated from Granny, but I've never given up hope of finding her, Hester. Circumstances forced me to stop searching for her, but now I'm going to start again in earnest.'

She was about to mount the stairs when there was a commotion outside. Someone was hammering on the front door.

‘Police. Open up.'