A Place Called Home (4 page)

He wagged his tail and settled down at her feet. She ate her fish, throwing scraps for the dog to catch, which he did with amazing agility, gobbling them up with obvious enjoyment.

It was almost an hour before Eva emerged, bright-eyed and more cheerful than Lucy had seen her for some time. There was no sign of Pearl or Carlos. ‘They've met up with some cronies,' Eva said airily. ‘But Pearl's given me the address of her lodgings in Hairbrine Court. She said to mention her name to the landlady and we'd get a room with no trouble at all.'

‘Is it far from here, Granny?'

Eva ruffled Lucy's curls with an affectionate smile. ‘Not far, darling. Are you tired?'

‘A little bit.'

‘We'll go there right away and then I'll see about finding some duds to sell on the market tomorrow. It seems like an easy way to earn a few coppers, and I was never happy about you having to dip pockets for a living. That ain't the proper way to bring up a child.'

‘I'm nearly eleven, Granny. I'm almost a woman.'

‘So you are, but that makes it even more important for me to keep an eye on you. If I'd been stricter with your ma things might have turned out different.' She grinned. ‘But then you come along and that was a blessing in disguise. You brought me a pocketful of love, as I always say.' She chuckled and slipped her arm around Lucy's shoulders. ‘Let's go and find this lodging house.'

Hairbrine Court was a narrow canyon of near darkness, and even when the sun shone its rays barely reached the ground. Cheap lodging houses and semi-derelict workshops huddled so close together that it would have been possible to lean out of an upstairs window and shake hands with the person living opposite. Strings of washing festooned the street, hanging sooty and limp in air which was thick with the smell of overflowing privies and the sulphurous smoke from coal fires and factory chimneys. Ragged people moved in and out of the shadows like spectres from a nightmare world, and barefoot children scavenged in the gutters, vying with feral dogs and cats for scraps of rotting food. Lucy's heart sank. It was worse than Cat's Hole, and even Peckham seemed to have lost some of his exuberance. He hung back, hiding in the folds of Lucy's skirts as Eva knocked on the door of number eight. They had to wait for several minutes before a woman opened it just wide enough to peer at them. ‘What d'ya want?'

Lucy took an involuntary step backwards. The woman's voice was harsh, like the cackle of a witch, and her appearance did nothing to dispel that image. Her features were lean and mean and her calculating look seemed to strip them to the bone, totting up their worth inch by inch and ounce by ounce.

‘My friend Pearl Sykes lodges with you, ma'am,' Eva said boldly. ‘She said you might have a room vacant.'

‘Who wants it?'

‘I'm Mrs Pocket, a respectable widow working in the rag trade with my granddaughter Lucy. We're looking for lodgings close to Rosemary Lane.'

‘Let's see the colour of your money. It's two bob a week for the room.' She glanced over Eva's shoulder. ‘No dogs.'

Lucy was about to protest but Eva silenced her with a single look. ‘I'd like to see it first, if you please.'

‘Take it or leave it. I got plenty of people queuing up for my rooms. They're the best in Hairbrine Court. You won't get no better.'

Eva hesitated for a moment before putting her hand in her pocket. ‘One week's rent in advance.'

The door opened wide and the woman beckoned them with a bony finger. ‘Follow me. And definitely no dogs.'

Lucy followed with the greatest reluctance, leaving Peckham sitting disconsolately on the front step. The entrance hall was long and narrow, and even in the dim light she could see that the plaster was flaking off the walls, and the floorboards were worn and uneven. The smell inside was even worse than that in the street and it did not improve as they mounted the stairs, climbing to the top floor. Beneath the eaves the attic room was cold and draughty. Cobwebs festooned the ceiling and draped the tiny dormer window like ragged lace curtains.

‘There's no fireplace,' Eva said crossly. ‘How are we expected to boil a kettle?'

‘You don't. That's the short answer.' The landlady stood arms akimbo, glaring at them. ‘Take it or leave it. I got a—'

‘A queue of people waiting to take the room,' Eva said, finishing the sentence for her with a curl of her lip. ‘I didn't see them waiting outside, missis. This room ain't worth two bob a week, not without a fireplace and a decent bed.'

The landlady pointed to a couple of palliasses with the straw poking out through holes in the ticking. ‘I never had no complaints afore, you stuck-up cow.'

‘Watch your tongue,' Eva said coolly. ‘I don't take lip from no one, missis whatever your name is.'

‘It's Mrs Wicks. Are you taking the room or not?'

‘What d'you think, Lucy?' Eva asked anxiously. ‘Shall we give it a try?'

‘I suppose it's better than sleeping rough,' Lucy whispered.

‘I should damn well say it is.' Mrs Wicks slipped the coins into the pocket of her grubby apron. ‘I'll take that as a yes, shall I?'

‘Just for a week,' Eva said firmly. ‘I don't want to disappoint Pearl.'

‘Suit yourself. The privy is in the back yard and so is the pump. Hire of a towel is one penny. Doors locked at ten thirty prompt. No admittance afterwards and no gentlemen callers.' Mrs Wicks slammed out of the room.

‘I've been in worse places,' Eva said with forced cheerfulness. ‘It's not too bad and there's a pie shop on the corner. We'll be all right for supper tonight.'

‘What about the dog? I can't leave him outside in the cold.'

‘That one knows how to look after himself. He latched on to you with your big soft heart, didn't he?' Eva gave her a quick hug. ‘I'm going out to find some goods to sell in the morning. You stay here and try to make it a bit more homely.'

‘Can't I come with you? I don't like it here.'

‘Not this time, duck.' Eva tugged playfully at one of Lucy's curls. ‘I'm going to pay a visit to an old friend of mine. He's in the second-hand clothing business, in a manner of speaking. He'll give me a good deal.' She waltzed out of the room, closing the door behind her.

Lucy stood in the middle of the floor, staring round at the bare expanse of dusty floorboards and the worm-eaten wooden joists that supported the sloping ceiling. She closed her eyes and tried to summon up the will to play the game whereby she could turn the most dismal of lodgings into a palace, but this time she failed miserably. Without the benefit of a fire, and with no cleaning materials to hand, there was little she could do to improve their lot. She examined the palliasses for bed bugs, but they seemed to be reasonably clean and she gave them a good shake before laying them side by side. There were no blankets or pillows but she suspected that this was a deliberate ploy by Mrs Wicks in order to extract more money from her tenants. There was nothing she could do other than sit down and wait for her grandmother's return. Overcome with fatigue, she curled up on one of the palliasses and drifted off to sleep.

She was awakened by the sound of the door opening. The room was in almost complete darkness except for the flickering light of a candle.

‘It's only me, love.' Pearl's voice was slurred with drink. ‘Where's Eva?'

Lucy scrambled to her feet. ‘I dunno, miss. She went out shortly after we arrived. I must have fallen asleep.'

Pearl held the candle higher. ‘I can't believe the old trout put you up here.'

‘It's not too bad,' Lucy said carefully.

‘I may be a bit swipey, and my eyesight ain't what it was, but prisoners in jail get a bed to sleep on and a blanket. Come down to my room and wait for your grandma. I got a bit of a fire going and I'll make you a cup of cocoa.'

Lucy's teeth were chattering and she was chilled to the bone. Looking up, she could see starlight through gaps in the ceiling. ‘Ta, Pearl. I'd like that.'

‘And I bet you ain't had nothing to eat since that bit of fish.'

‘It was very nice.'

‘Come with me, nipper. Let's see if there's any bread left. The mice and rats have a habit of helping themselves when I'm not there.' She disappeared through the door, leaving the room in almost complete darkness. Lucy hurried after her; anything was better than being left alone in the eerie silence of the attic.

Pearl's room was on the floor below, and a waft of cheap cologne and cigarette smoke did not disguise the fishy smell that seemed to cling to everything, including Pearl. A coal fire burned in the grate and a kettle bubbled merrily on a trivet balanced over the flames. It was several degrees warmer than the attic and Pearl enjoyed the luxury of an iron bedstead, a table and two chairs. The bed was strewn with clothes and Lucy had to duck beneath a washing line hung with stockings. ‘Take a pew,' Pearl said, pointing vaguely to a chair that was barely visible beneath a mass of damp washing. ‘I got some cocoa somewhere, and there should be a crust of bread on the shelf, or at least there was this morning.' She ran her hand along the slat of wood nailed to the wall beside her bed. ‘The little buggers have had it. Sorry, love, but you can have a hot drink.' She moved to the table and tossed a pile of newspapers on the floor, spilling an overflowing ashtray in her attempt to make a space. ‘Can you see a cup anywhere, dear? I can't seem to find one, and there should be a lump of sugar somewhere.' She flopped down on the bed. ‘I'm a bit tired. I have to get up at five to get to Billingsgate for the fish.' She leaned back and closed her eyes. ‘Make yourself a cup of cocoa, dear. I might just snatch forty winks.' The words had barely left her lips when a loud snore shook her whole body.

Lucy looked round but she could not find a cup, let alone the cocoa or the elusive packet of sugar. She took the kettle from the trivet and placed it on the hearthstone, making sure that there was nothing which might set the room on fire before she crept out onto the landing. The whole house seemed to be humming with noise. Footsteps on bare floorboards beat out a tattoo; raised voices, screams and cries of small children and babies echoed off the walls. Her first thought was for Peckham. She forgot her hunger and thirst in her concern for the animal who had touched her heart. She crept down the stairs to the entrance hall and opened the front door. Sitting on the step, shivering in the moonlight, the dog leapt to his feet and wagged his tail. She bent down and picked him up. ‘You're frozen, you poor thing.' He licked her face and she closed the door carefully so as not to alert the fearsome Mrs Wicks. She carried him upstairs to the attic room and they curled up together on one of the palliasses. His small body was warm despite the fact that he had been locked out in the cold for several hours, and Lucy was comforted by the nearness of a living creature.

Daylight was streaming through the window when she opened her eyes. It took her a moment or two to remember that she was not in the room in Cat's Hole, and when Peckham stirred and yawned she sat up with a guilty start. It was only then that she realised they had been covered with a thick boat cloak and that her grandmother was lying on the palliasse at her side, snoring gently. She too had slept beneath a mound of clothes, all of which were apparently second hand, and smelled accordingly.

Eva stirred and opened her eyes. ‘What time is it?'

‘I dunno, Granny. The bailiffs took our clock.'

‘We got work to do.' Eva raised herself on her elbow, shaking out her halo of guinea-gold curls. ‘I could murder a cup of tea.' She reached beneath the palliasse and took out her purse. ‘There's a stall on the corner of Brown Bear Alley. Get us something to eat too.'

‘We haven't got any cups, Granny.'

‘Yes, we have. I thought ahead and bought two tin mugs on my way home last evening.' Eva pointed to a paper bag lying by her bed. ‘Your granny thinks of everything.'

‘Where did you go last night?' Lucy took the purse, weighing it in her hand. ‘You got more money than you had yesterday.'

‘Don't ask, dear. Just go out like a good girl and get us something to eat and drink.'

With Peckham at her side, Lucy set off for Brown Bear Alley, and found the coffee stall set up and doing a brisk trade. She handed over the mugs and waited while the man filled them with tea, adding a dash of milk and a generous spoonful of sugar. Her stomach rumbled in anticipation. ‘And two ham rolls, please,' she added, eyeing them hungrily. Peckham growled and she looked down at him, but he was standing with his ears cocked and his whole body alert, staring across the street. She followed his gaze and her heart lurched in her chest as she spotted the familiar lozenge and coat of arms on the side of the carriage, and the pale face of the old gentleman gazing out of the window.

SHE TURNED HER
back on him, concentrating instead on the stall keeper. ‘Have you got any scraps for me dog, mister?'

He glanced at Peckham, who seemed to know that he was on show and raised a paw. ‘I might have a few scraps,' the man said, scraping bits of ham fat onto a crust of bread. ‘Take that, but don't come back for more. I ain't a charity.'

‘Ta, mister.' Lucy treated him to a smile. She looked down at the dog. ‘Say thank you to the kind gent.'

Peckham obliged with a sharp bark and she tossed the food to him. He fell on it and gobbled it up. Lucy tucked the ham rolls into her pocket and picked up the mugs, but she could not resist a quick glance over her shoulder. The gentleman met her startled gaze with a steady look and she turned away, walking as fast as she could without spilling too much of the hot tea. She dodged into the maze of alleyways, which would be impossible for a carriage and pair to negotiate, but arriving back at the lodging house she could not shake off the feeling that she had been followed. The door was not locked and she let herself in. Peckham looked up at her expectantly and she had not the heart to shut him outside in the cold. She allowed him to follow her up the stairs, hoping that Mrs Wicks was otherwise occupied.