The Constant Heart (2 page)

She scanned the horizon for a sign of the reddish-brown sails of the
Ellie May
, named after her mother who had died when Rosina was just a few days old. There was already a tier of barges moored alongside the wharf, together with lighters, small coasters, watermen's skiffs and wherries. A gentle breeze rattled the stays against the bare masts, and the tea-coloured waters of the Thames sucked and slapped at the flat hulls of the vessels. She stopped briefly at the tobacconist's shop to spend a few pence on an ounce of pipe tobacco as a welcome home present for her father, exchanging pleasantries with Sam Smilie, the proprietor. He gave her a quarter of her favourite confectionery, sugared almonds, and wished her a happy birthday. She thanked him, and demonstrated her delight by popping one of the sweets in her mouth. She walked along the quay wall, sucking the crisp sugar coating slowly, savouring the rose-scented flavour and anticipating the crunch of the sweet almond inside. She was passing the row of narrow four-storey houses with oriel windows overlooking the river when Caddie, the heavily pregnant wife of Arthur Trigg, the mate on the
Ellie May
, leaned out of her window on the first floor.

'Happy birthday, Rosie. Looks like you done well for yourself.'

She glanced up at her and smiled. 'Thanks, Caddie. I can't believe how many people have remembered it's my birthday today.'

'I'd have got you something meself, but I'm a bit short of the ready until my Artie gets home.'

'Don't even think about it, Caddie. You need all your money with two little ones to feed.'

'And another one soon to be born. My Artie weren't too pleased about number three, not at first anyway.'

Rosina pulled a face. 'Well, it's not as if he had no part in the matter, is it? Don't look so worried – I'm sure he'll be delighted when the babe arrives.'

Caddie gave her a weary smile. 'I'm sure he will. My Artie's the best dad in the world to little Ronnie and Alfie. I do so hope he gets back soon. I'll be in a real fix if they miss the tide.'

'If you're short of money I'm sure Walter could let you have some on account. Come to the counting house in a bit and I'll see what I can do.'

'I will, and God bless you, Rosie.'

With a cheery wave, Rosina hurried along the cobbled pathway, past the single-storey wharfinger's office, to the house that had been her home since she was four years old. The front room was used as the counting house and was run by Walter Brown, her father's clerk. She pushed the door open with her foot and went inside. Walter looked up from his desk, peering at her over the top of his steel-rimmed spectacles. His hazel eyes lit with a smile, and he rose to his feet, brushing a lock of dark hair from his forehead with an ink-stained hand. 'Miss Rosina.' He picked up a small package wrapped in brown paper. 'Happy birthday.'

'How kind of you to remember, Walter.' She dropped her armful of presents on the desk. 'You really shouldn't have.'

'It's not much, I'm afraid.'

She accepted the gift, fingering it gently as she tried to guess what was inside. 'I wonder what it could be.' She teased the paper apart, and her eyes widened in surprise. 'Oh, Walter, you really shouldn't have.' She held the gold breastpin up to the light. 'This must have cost you a week's wages.'

'Do you like it? I could always change it if you didn't.'

'I love it. What can I say? I just love it. Will you put it on for me?'

As he took it from her, she noticed that his hand shook slightly and she gave him an encouraging smile. She had always liked Walter. He might be a little dull, but he was a kindly, serious sort of fellow who worked hard keeping the books and doing whatever it was that he did to keep the
Ellie May
in business. Such matters were as much a mystery to Rosina as the stars and planets in the night sky, and Papa always said that she need not bother her head about such things. She lifted her chin, pointing to the neck of her blouse. 'Just there, if you please, Walter. I can't do it without a mirror.' His face was close to hers, and he was biting his lip as he concentrated on fastening the brooch to the material.

A bloom of perspiration stood out on his forehead. 'There, it's done.' He took a step backwards, taking a hanky from his pocket and mopping his brow. 'I – I didn't catch you with the pin, did I?'

'No, of course not. I'm afraid I would have screeched if you had, Walter. I'm not very brave. But the gold pin is beautiful and it was such a kind thought.' She seized his hand and held it briefly against her cheek. 'If I had a big brother, I would want him to be just like you.'

A dull flush rose from his starched white shirt collar to his thin cheeks. 'I'd better help you upstairs with your parcels.'

'I can manage, thank you. But there is something you can do for me, Walter.'

'Anything, Miss Rosina. You know that.'

'I saw Caddie Trigg just now. She's in desperate need of some money, and I told her you would give her an advance on Artie's wages.'

He shook his head. 'I'd like to oblige, but I can't very well, not without the captain's approval.'

'Oh, come now, Walter. Don't be mean. The
Ellie May
will dock soon and you'll be paying Artie off, so what difference does a couple of hours make?' She smiled up at him, fluttering her eyelashes. He appeared to be struggling with his conscience, and she pressed home her advantage. 'Please, Walter. It is my birthday, after all.' He ran his finger round the inside of his collar, and she saw that his shirt cuff, although spotlessly clean, was frayed, and there were shiny patches on the sleeves of his jacket where he rested his elbows on the desk. She suffered a pang of guilt as she realised that he had spent his money on her present, and yet he could not even afford a new shirt. She knew that she had placed him in an awkward position, for which she felt sorry, but she was even sorrier for Caddie. 'Please, do this for me, Walter. I'll tell Papa it was all my idea, and that I made you do it.'

A reluctant smile lit his face. 'All right, I'll do it just this once, and only because it's your birthday. But I won't allow you to take responsibility for my actions.'

Rosina gathered up her parcels. 'Don't worry about Papa; I can wind him round my little finger.' She picked up the apple that the costermonger had given her and placed it in Walter's hand. 'There, that's for you. You really are a splendid fellow, Walter.' She blew him a kiss as she left the office, closing the door behind her. She hurried down the narrow passage that led to the kitchen, and her footsteps echoed on the bare floorboards.

Bertha looked up from her ironing as Rosina breezed into the room. 'Well, you look pleased with yourself, young lady.'

'I've had a lovely time. Just look at all the presents that people gave me.' She went to put them on the table, but Bertha shook her head.

'Don't clutter me table, Rosie. Can't you see that I'm ironing your best frock?'

'Oops, sorry.' She scooped the gifts onto the seat of a chair. 'I can't believe how kind people have been to me today.'

'You're spoilt, you are.' Bertha thumped the flat iron down on the voluminous skirt of Rosina's Sunday best gown. 'I don't hold with spoiling children.'

Rosina crept up behind her and gave her a hug. 'Woof, woof. Your bark is worse than your bite, Bebe, you old fraud.' She kissed Bertha's wrinkled cheek. Her skin was as tough and leathery as Papa's old sea boots, but despite her grim appearance Rosina knew that she had a heart as soft and squishy as a marshmallow. It was Bertha who had nursed her through the miserable childish ailments that had kept her confined to her bed for weeks at a time. It was Bertha who had bathed the scrapes on her knees when she had fallen over on the cobblestones, playing tag with the neighbours' children amongst the cranes, barrels, sacks and anchor chains on the wharf. It was Bertha who had always stood up for her when she was in trouble with Papa. She gave her another hug. 'Don't be cross, Bebe. I've had a lovely day and I saw all our old friends in Ratcliff Highway.'

'I can see that. But I've told you a hundred times not to go roaming round the Highway on your own. It ain't safe.' Bertha tested the heat of the flat iron by spitting on it. 'You're a young woman now, not a little girl in short petticoats.'

'Don't fuss, Bebe. We lived there once, remember? No one in the Highway would harm me.'

'I know where you was raised. I was with your sainted ma even before you was born and with her when she died.' Bertha put the rapidly cooling iron back on the fire, and picked up the one that had been heating over the hot coals. She held it close to her cheek, judging the temperature before she set about ironing the fine cotton poplin. 'And you might think they're all kind and friendly, but there's plenty who ain't. There are evil men who prey on young girls like you. There's opium dens and houses of ill repute down Ratcliff Highway. It ain't safe, I tell you, Rosie.'

Rosina snatched up the silk scarf that fat Freda had given her, and she wound it around Bertha's neck. 'There, this will suit you much better than it does me. I want you to have it.'

Bertha's face crinkled into an unwilling smile. 'You always could get round me with your soft-soaping ways.'

'You're still my Bebe, the kind and lovely Bebe who tucked me up in bed every night and told me stories about fairies and princesses.'

'Get on with you, you minx.' Bertha unwound the scarf, but she did not take it off. 'Get out of me way and let me finish me chores afore the captain gets home. A fine welcome it would be if he found me doing the ironing, instead of having a hot meal ready and waiting for him.'

'I'll call out when I spot the
Ellie May
's sails coming upriver.' Rosina scooped up her belongings and took them upstairs to the parlour. She laid her gifts out on a side table, displaying them for her father to view when he had had time to settle in at home. Untying the ribbons on her bonnet, she took it off and went to sit on the seat in the oriel window overlooking the wharf and the river beyond. Through the forest of masts she could see past Watson's Wharf and the Standard Wharves where ships from foreign ports unloaded their cargoes of fruit and vegetables, wines, spirits and tea. It all sounded so romantic to Rosina's ears: she had never been further afield than the creeks and salt marshes of Essex, and probably never would. If she had had the luck to be born a boy, she could have sailed with Papa as mate on the
Ellie May
. But if she had been a boy she would not have been able to wear pretty things like her lovely new bonnet. She fingered the smooth satin ribbons and sniffed the silk forget-me-nots; they had no smell, of course, but it was fun to imagine that they were real, and that she had picked them fresh from a country garden, the like of which she had seen on picture postcards and in magazines. A movement below caught her eye, and looking down she saw Caddie standing on the wharf, with eighteen-month-old Alfie straddled on her hip, and Ronnie, who was little more than a year older, clinging to her skirt as she peered into the distance. Following her gaze, Rosina spotted the unmistakeable tan sails of a Thames barge coming upriver. Even before she could read the lettering on the bow, she knew that it was the
Ellie May
. With a cry of delight, she jammed her bonnet on her head and leapt to her feet. She ran downstairs, tying the ribbons beneath her chin. The office door was open and she beckoned to Walter. 'She's home, Walter. The
Ellie May
has just arrived in port.'

He rose from his seat behind the desk. 'I'm coming. I'll just get my cap.'

'Don't be so formal, Walter,' Rosina said, struggling to contain her impatience. 'You don't need to wear a cap in order to welcome home the
Ellie May
.'

'The captain wouldn't appreciate it if I turned up improperly dressed.' He took his peaked cap off the hat stand and put it on.

'Oh, really! You are so – so proper!' She bit her lip, realising by his downcast expression that she had hurt his feelings. She was sorry for her hasty words, but sometimes he was so maddening that she couldn't hold her tongue. It wouldn't have been so bad if he fought back, but he always seemed to be in total command of his feelings. He gave her a brief nod as he strode out of the house and onto the wharf. Rosina followed more slowly, wondering if Walter had ever done anything spontaneous in his whole life. In the two years that he had worked for her papa, she had never known him to be anything other than polite, punctilious and hardworking. She had seen occasional flashes of humour in his eyes, but she had never heard him laugh, or even chuckle. He could not be more than twenty-two or twenty-three, but to her it seemed that, nice though he might be, he was tumbling headlong into middle age. She broke into a run, and by the time she reached Caddie's side she had forgotten all about Walter. She waved frantically to her father as he steered the barge alongside another vessel. Artie leapt off to make it secure. He looked up and smiled as Caddie shrieked his name, with the infants' shrill voices piping 'Dada, Dada'.