The Constant Heart (3 page)

'I'm so glad he's home. I miss him something horrible when he's away.' Caddie kept waving as though she was afraid the barge might sail away again. 'Isn't my Artie just the most handsome fellow you've ever seen, Miss Rosie?'

Rosina murmured something that passed for agreement. Handsome wasn't the word she would have used to describe Artie. He was not very tall; in fact, he was quite short and stocky. His face was tanned by the sun, wind and salt air from the estuary, but his features were unremarkable. She would have said he was plain, but pleasant-looking. Caddie, on the other hand, obviously saw something quite different. Judging by the rapt expression on her face, she was seeing a prince amongst men. Artie leapt from barge to barge until he reached the ladder on the quay wall; he shinned up the steps as nimbly as a circus performer heading for the high wire. He enveloped Caddie in an embrace that almost squashed Alfie, who howled in protest. Artie kissed him on his downy head and then he lifted Ronnie up in his arms, chuckling and tickling him until the little boy let out a peal of laughter. In spite of herself, Rosina felt a lump in her throat as she watched the family walk off towards the lodging house, where they lived in two small rooms on the first floor. It was touching to see them in such a loving relationship and so happy together. She moved to Walter's side, suddenly stricken with conscience. 'I didn't mean to offend you, Walter.'

'That's all right. You're entitled to say what you think.'

'Well, you are very proper – but that's a good thing. It wouldn't do if everyone was like me and said the first thing that came into their head.'

'No, ma'am.'

She turned to stare at him, but his generous mouth curved into a grin and his eyes twinkled in a way that invited an immediate response. She tucked her hand in the crook of his arm. 'Why, Walter, I believe there's a little devil hiding somewhere inside that serious head of yours after all.'

He stiffened and his smile faded. 'Excuse me, miss. The captain wants me to go on board.'

She followed his gaze and saw her father making imperative gestures with his hand. 'You'd best go then, and see what he wants.' She waited impatiently for Papa to come ashore; it was, after all, her special day. She paced up and down on the cobblestones, stopping occasionally to acknowledge birthday greetings from the dock workers. She had known most of them since she was a child, and she made polite enquiries as to the health of their wives and numerous children, but all the time she kept an eye on the deck of the
Ellie May
, where Papa and Walter were deep in conversation. When they finally came ashore, she ran to her father and flung her arms around his neck. 'It's good to have you home, Papa.'

He gave her a perfunctory peck on the cheek. 'Hello, Rosie.'

'Is that all you've got to say to me?' She let her arms fall to her sides, staring into his be whiskered face. 'Papa?'

'Don't pester me now, girl. I've got a lot on me mind.' He walked away from her, heading towards the wharfinger's office.

She ran after him. 'But what's the matter? Why are you so angry?'

'I'm going to make an official complaint about that bastard, Ham Barnum.'

'Captain Barnum? What has he done now?'

He stopped outside the office door, staring down at her with a frown puckering his forehead into deep lines. 'He's crossed me once too often. Go home, Rosie. Wait for me there. This hasn't anything to do with you.' He stormed inside and slammed the door.

'Well!' Rosina stared after him. He hadn't even noticed her new bonnet, and, worse still, it was apparent that he had completely forgotten that it was her birthday. Something must have gone badly wrong. She turned to look for Walter; he would tell her the truth. He was talking to a group of men, but he broke off as she approached them. 'Walter, what is going on?'

'It's not for me to say, miss.'

'If you don't tell me, I shall scream.' She opened her mouth as if to carry out her threat.

She had no intention of doing so, but she knew it would have the desired effect on him. Walter was so easy to manipulate. He took her by the arm and led her back towards the house.

'It's a matter between Captain May and Captain Barnum. It seems as though they've fallen out again, and this time it's serious. You'll have to ask your father to tell you the rest. That's all I know.' Walter opened the door for her. 'It would be best if you were to wait at home.'

'Stop treating me like a child. You were talking to Papa; he must have told you what happened.'

'You're placing me in an awkward situation.'

'Oh, come on, please tell me. I promise I won't let on to Papa, but I'm dying with curiosity. Please, Walter.'

His lips twitched as if he was trying hard not to smile. 'You'll get me the sack.'

'Please, please tell.'

'They were racing to get the best cargo. The captain said that Barnum took his wind and drove him onto a mudflat. Luckily the tide was coming in and they soon floated off, but it cost him the cargo he had aimed for, and he says Barnum got it by cheating. He's gone to complain of malpractice to the wharfinger, and he intends to take the case to the Watermen's Company. I can't tell you more, miss. That's all I know.'

Rosina had to be content with that until her father came home, but by this time she was ready and waiting with a jug of hot buttered rum to soothe his temper, and his slippers were warming by the range. Even though it was mild outside, Papa always suffered from cold feet, more so when he was tired after a long and trying voyage. She had his favourite pipe already filled with baccy, and she had placed his chair by the fire. Bertha had cleared away the ironing and was laying the table for supper, which was to be boiled mutton and caper sauce. Rosina lifted the saucepan lid and sniffed appreciatively; it was one of Papa's favourite dishes, and was to be followed by spotted dick and custard – a sure winner. Bertha was probably the best cook in Wapping, if not the whole of London.

Captain Edward May stormed into the kitchen, kicking off his sea boots so that they flew up in the air and one of them landed on the table. Bertha scowled at him, but she said nothing as she picked up the muddy boot and placed it close to the range. Rosina knew better than to make a fuss. She poured the toddy into a rummer. 'Welcome home, Papa.'

Edward shrugged off his pea jacket and dropped it onto a chair. His scowl lightened as he took the glass from her. 'Thank you, Rosie, love.'

She waited in silence, watching the colour return to his pale cheeks as he gulped the drink. The tension seemed to leach from him and his shoulders sagged. Bertha said nothing as she busied herself slicing a freshly baked loaf of bread. Rosina smiled and refilled his glass. 'Sit down, Papa. Bertha has made your favourite supper.'

'And I'm a brute for taking me megrims out on you, my pet.' Edward put the glass down on the table and held out his arms. 'Come here, Rosie. Let your old dad give you a birthday kiss.'

She walked into his arms and he kissed her on the forehead, on the tip of her nose and on both cheeks, in the way he had greeted her ever since she could remember. She kissed his cheek and his mutton-chop whiskers tickled her nose. He smelled of the river, of salty mud, a faint hint of pipe tobacco and buttered rum. She smiled up into his weathered face. 'It's good to have you home, Papa.'

'And leave your blooming temper outside the door next time,' Bertha said, obviously judging that the time was right to have her say. 'What sort of greeting was that for a girl on her eighteenth birthday?'

Rosina felt her father's muscles tense and she held her breath. One day Bertha would go too far, but today was not going to be that day, as her papa let out a shout of laughter and sat down on his chair, pulling her onto his knee. 'Trust Bertha to put a man in his place. I've been captain of the ship all week and now I must bow to petticoat rule. Happy birthday, poppet.'

'You never bowed down to nothing in your life, old man.' Bertha waved the bread knife at him. 'And if you've had an up and downer with that Ham Barnum again, then shame on you for bringing it into the home.'

'I don't wonder that no man ever offered to marry you, you old harridan,' Edward said conversationally. 'You keep your place, madam. If you wasn't such a good cook I'd have sent you packing years ago.'

'And I'd have gone, if it wasn't for the little lamb.' Bertha huffed her way over to the range and stirred the caper sauce. 'Serve you right if it was burned black as your heart.'

'Stop it, both of you,' Rosina said, stifling a sigh of relief. When Papa and Bertha insulted each other, things were normal. It was only when they were coldly polite that she ever worried. She wriggled off his lap and handed him the pipe. 'I bought you some of your favourite baccy, Papa.'

He smiled. 'I'll enjoy a pipe after supper. Now tell me if you got that bonnet you were hankering after.'

'Papa!' Rosina pursed her lips in a mock pout. 'I was wearing it when I met you on the quay.'

'I'm sorry, poppet. I was so fired up against that villain Ham Barnum that it escaped my notice. I've filed a complaint against him at the wharfinger's office and I'm going to take it up with the Watermen's Company. I'll have their solicitors on him and that will take the smile off the bastard's face. If he wants war, then war he shall have.'

Rosina cleared the table, taking the dirty plates into the scullery and piling them on the wooden draining board.

'You go on up, ducks,' Bertha said as she squeezed into the small room holding a steaming kettle. 'I'll see to the dishes.'

'But, Bebe, I always help you clear up after supper.'

'Not on your birthday you don't. Upstairs you go. Chop-chop.'

Rosina was not going to argue. She hurried through the kitchen, pausing in the narrow hallway as she saw a splinter of light beneath the office door. Walter must be working late yet again. She sometimes wondered if he had a home to go to, but that was his business. She barely gave it another thought as she ran lightly up the twisting staircase to the parlour at the front of the house. The fragrant scent of pipe tobacco wafted out through the open door and she could see her father's outline as he sat on the window seat, puffing away on his pipe. He looked relaxed and contented after the excellent meal that Bertha had prepared. When Papa became agitated, as he did rather too frequently these days, she feared for his health. It was not good for a man of his age to get overexcited; it was well known that Mr Barton Medley, the owner of the flour mill downriver, had suffered similar fits of temper and had expired from apoplexy in the middle of a dinner party. But Papa seemed peaceful enough now, and she smiled as she entered the room.

'Shall I light the lamp, Papa? It's getting too dark to see.'

'Leave it a while, Rosie. I like to sit here and watch the dusk creeping along the river.'

She drew up a chair to sit beside him. 'You mean you like to keep an eye on your old boat. You can't bear to let her out of your sight.'

Edward puffed a plume of smoke out of the open window. 'There are still river pirates about, in spite of the efforts of the police to round the villains up and put them behind bars. They come out at night like sewer rats, crawling all over the vessels moored alongside the wharves and stealing anything that they can lay their thieving hands on. I know what I'd do with the buggers if I was to catch one of them.'

Rosina laid her hand on his arm. She could feel the tension in his muscles and a vein was throbbing in his temple. She knew that she must change the subject or he would get worked up again. 'Would you like to see my presents, Papa?'

'Of course.' He patted her hand. 'Pay no mind to me, poppet. I'm just a grumpy old man.'

'And I love you, Papa.' She leapt to her feet and went to the side table to fetch a handful of the gifts she had received. If she could just keep his attention until it was too dark to see outside, then they would enjoy a peaceful evening. She tickled his nose with the parrot's feather. 'Old Jamjar gave me this. I'll get Walter to fit a pen nib on the end for me.'