Two for Three Farthings (24 page)

‘No, of course not, but it's interesting, isn't it? Does Rebecca do good work here?'

‘I believe she's an interest in a mission in Bermondsey, which isn't far away.'

‘She helps out at a Bermondsey mission?' Mrs Lockheart's smile was all of cryptic. ‘Perhaps she sees that as a form of penance.'

‘I'm sorry, but I'd rather you didn't continue with remarks that—' Jim stopped as his keen ears picked up the sound of the front door being opened. ‘I think Miss Pilgrim's back.'

‘Miss Pilgrim? Rebecca?' Mrs Lockheart looked slightly surprised, as if the expected had become the unexpected. ‘Oh, yes. Good. I haven't seen her for years, it will be quite a reunion. I've been looking forward to it very much, although I'm not sure how she will feel.' She came to her feet, picked up her coat and placed it over her arm. ‘Thank you so much for your company, Mr Cooper, it's been so interesting talking to you. I do hope we'll meet again.' Her smile seemed that of a woman in pleasurable anticipation of a reunion. ‘Goodbye for now.'

‘Goodbye,' said Jim, his feelings mixed. One should like a woman whose looks and femininity were as appealing as hers, and whose manner was so civilized, but he was not sure that he did. There had been too many veiled remarks, too much wandering from one thing to another. He opened the door for her and she smiled as she left. He heard her descending the stairs, and he closed the door. He had an odd suspicion that Miss Pilgrim was not going to enjoy the reunion. He sat down and resumed his book-keeping studies, but found it difficult to concentrate. He was listening. But the solidly built house did not communicate its sounds at all clearly when doors were closed. He shook his head at himself and applied himself to his studies with determination.

A sound did reach his ears after ten minutes, and with jolting clarity. It came from the neat little hall below.

‘Wretched woman!' It was Miss Pilgrim's voice. ‘Leave my house, take yourself off, and at once!'

A laugh came, a laugh that Jim thought was mocking.

‘How dramatic.' Mrs Lockheart's voice, neither so sharp nor so biting as Miss Pilgrim's, was quite clear all the same. ‘False anger will do you no good, Rebecca. I know, you see, I have always known. But what I still don't know is why you did it. Poison of that kind is a venomous thing. Poor Clarence did not deserve that. But now that I've found you, you are done for.'

‘Rubbish. I can face my God.' The front door was pulled open. Jim was on his feet now, his own door open a little, his listening compulsive. ‘Go!'

‘I shall be back, Rebecca Pilgrim.'

The front door was sharply closed. Jim ventured out on to the landing.

‘Hello there,' he called lightly. Miss Pilgrim looked up at him from the hall.

‘Kindly don't let unwanted visitors into my house again, Mr Cooper,' she said.

‘So sorry,' said Jim. ‘She said she was an acquaintance of yours, and asked if she could come in and wait until you were back.'

‘An impositon.'

‘The lady wasn't an old acquaintance?' Jim, out of disturbed curiosity, was probing.

‘That is not the point. I'm not a saintly Christian, as I've told you, and my door is closed to certain people. Whenever there's a visitor and I am out, please be so good as to ask them to call again.'

‘I'm sorry, Miss Pilgrim, to see you distressed.'

‘I'm not in the least distressed, I am merely vexed.'

‘Can I help?'

‘Help? With what?' From the hall she stared frostily up at him.

‘With whatever's vexing you.'

‘What nonsense. Allow me to begin preparing the midday meal, or it will be late.' With her familiar starchy rustle, Miss Pilgrim disappeared.

It occurred to Jim that for all the imperturbability of Mrs Lockheart, the woman had a screw loose.

At half-past eleven the same morning, Mrs French called at the school and spoke to the headmistress. The headmistress communicated at once with Mr Hill, and Mr Hill addressed his class, informing the boys and girls that Alice French had mislaid her skipping-rope yesterday. Would the pupil who had found it please say so.

No-one said so. Everyone simply looked blankly at everyone else. Alice blushed slightly. She knew her mum had come to see the headmistress about it, although she had asked her not to.

‘Well, let's wait until the dinnertime break,' said Mr Hill tactfully, ‘then the rope might come to light. Or someone in the other classes might be handing it in now. We'll see.'

During the break, an eleven-year-old girl approached Mr Hill and told him she'd seen a new girl pick the skipping-rope up from the playground bench and go off with it.

‘What new girl?' asked Mr Hill.

‘I don't know 'er much, sir, I think she's Ethel Somebody.'

Mr Hill sighed. Ethel Somebody, of course, was the sister of Horace Withers, a bright boy with potential. Mr Hill waited until brother and sister returned to the school after dinner at their lodgings. He took the little girl aside, and he called Alice over.

‘Alice, your missing skipping-rope,' he said.

‘Oh, yes, blessed thing,' said Alice. ‘Well, you see, sir, Mum was cross I didn't come home with it yesterday. I told her I hadn't actually lost it, not actually, I just couldn't remember about it, and she said well, someone's got to remember, that skipping-rope's new and it cost money.'

‘Can you remember, Ethel?' asked Mr Hill. Effel, head bent, fidgeted and mumbled. ‘I didn't hear that,' said Mr Hill.

‘Oh, Ethel wouldn't know anything about it, sir,' said Alice, ‘she's Horace's sister.' Which meant that as far as Alice was concerned no sister of Horace could be accused of pinching.

‘Well, do you know, Ethel?' asked Mr Hill.

‘Don't know nuffink,' said Ethel, feet itching to bear her away.

‘Does that mean you didn't pick the rope up from the bench yesterday and go off with it?'

‘Oh, Ethel wouldn't have done that, sir,' said Alice.

Effel muttered.

‘Did you take it home just to play a joke?' asked Mr Hill. If that was a lifeline, Effel didn't recognize it.

‘Ain't got no 'ome,' she said, ‘nor no mum and dad, not like she's got.' The bell rang for afternoon classes, and she scampered off. Alice followed. Mr Hill looked for Orrice. Seeing him, he beckoned. Orrice arrived, and Mr Hill explained the position to him tactfully and kindly.

‘Well, Effel might've ‘idden it for a joke, sir,' said Orrice, ‘but she wouldn't 'ave nicked it. Effel don't go in for nickin'. Nor me. Our dad would've walloped us. Effel's a bit funny sometimes, but she ain't a tea leaf.'

‘I'm sure,' said Mr Hill. They were a ragtag and bobtail, many of the Walworth kids, and some did nick little things from each other. But the moment their dads got wind of it, such things quickly reappeared. ‘However, she was seen with the rope. Look here, tell you what, you talk to her. If anyone can find out what she did with it, you can. Can't you? Talk to her. I'd like to have the rope returned by the time classes start tomorrow morning.'

‘It ain't like Effel to take someone else's fings,' said Orrice.

‘No, but you've lost your parents. I'm sorry to mention that, it's been hard on both of you, but it might have something to do with Ethel's actions. It might be affecting her in a different way from you, Horace. So talk to her during this afternoon's break.'

Orrice did so, taking his sister aside in the playground. Alice looked on from afar.

‘Effel, did you mess about wiv Alice's skippin'-rope yesterday?'

‘Don't know nuffink about it,' said Effel.

‘You sure?'

‘Serve 'er right,' said Effel, ‘now yer can't skip wiv 'er no more.'

‘Here, 'ave you hid it?' asked Orrice. ‘It's daft. Yer know I don't skip wiv 'er, anyway, I ain't turnin' meself into no cissy. I wouldn't be able to look no-one in the face if I turned cissy, nor if me sister went in for nickin'. Alice won't mind if you took 'er rope for a joke. Did yer hide it or didn't yer?'

‘Dunno,' said Effel.

‘Course you know, you ain't as daft as that. Look, what's Uncle Jim goin' to say when 'e knows?'

‘'E ain't nobody,' said Effel.

‘Yes, 'e is,' said Orrice, ‘'e's lookin' after us, 'e can't be nobody. Effel, d'you want me to bash yer?'

‘Dunno, don't care,' said Effel, and Orrice could get no more out of her. Reluctantly, he reported failure to Mr Hill. Mr Hill sighed and reported to the headmistress. When classes were over for the day, Orrice and Effel were told to go and see the headmistress. She addressed them kindly, telling them she wanted the matter cleared up by tomorrow morning. If it was, then she would not have to ask their guardian to come and see her.

It worried Mrs Wainwright that she might be doing the little girl an injustice, that she might be innocent. And there was also the unhappy fact that sister and brother had both been recently orphaned. Some allowances must be made for the disturbing effect such a traumatic happening might have had on the girl.

What worried Orrice was the thought that the whole school might soon be calling Effel nasty names.

‘Look,' he said on the way home, ‘yer don't want everyone saying you nicked Alice's rope. Our mum and dad wouldn't like that, and our Uncle Jim ain't goin' to be too bloomin' joyful.'

‘'E ain't our dad,' said Effel.

‘I know that, don't I? Why'd yer keep telling me what I already know? But 'e saved us from being sent to an orphanage, didn't 'e?'

‘'E grumbles at me,' said Effel.

‘Cor, you fibber, 'e ain't ever grumbled at no-one, it's not grumbling when 'e tells yer to pick up fings you've dropped. Effel, yer can tell me, can't yer, if yer took that skippin'-rope or not?'

‘Ain't saying.'

‘I bet yer know where it is, I just betcher.'

‘Ain't talkin'.'

‘Right,' said Orrice, ‘I'm goin' to wallop yer silly when I get yer 'ome.'

When they arrived at nineteen Wansey Street, Miss Pilgrim, set of face, let them in. They wiped their feet carefully on both mats, and Orrice, under their landlady's strict eye, took his cap off. Miss Pilgrim at once noted there was gloom all over his fresh young countenance. She also noted Effel was scowling. Closing the door, she asked, ‘What is wrong with you two?'

‘Me bruvver's goin' to ‘it me,' said Effel

‘Well, I got a good mind to, Miss Pilgrim,' admitted Orrice.

‘You will do no such thing,' said Miss Pilgrim. ‘In the absence of your guardian, I must take it upon myself to forbid you to even think about it. Brutality will be your lot all the days of your life if you exercise it now, at your age. And, Master Horace, as Shakespeare says, the evil that men do lives after them.'

‘Oh, crikey, Miss Pilgrim,' protested Orrice, ‘it ain't evil just thinkin' about wallopin' Effel, is it? Not just thinkin' about it.'

‘Deeds are the children of thoughts, young man.' Miss Pilgrim studied the boy and girl again. Effel, of course, was hanging her head. Orrice met her gaze in his fearless way. ‘What has been happening?' she asked.

‘Yes, what's goin' to 'appen, that's what I'd like to know,' said Orrice, deeply gloomy. ‘I'm goin' to 'ave to fight all of 'em, I am.'

‘You are going to fight no-one, do you hear?'

‘Miss Pilgrim, I got to, I got to fight everyone what calls Effel a tea leaf. Effel ain't a tea leaf, she's just playing up, which is why I 'ad a good mind to wallop 'er.'

Miss Pilgrim, who knew tea leaf was cockney rhyming slang for thief, said, ‘Go into the kitchen, both of you.' They went in, Effel muttering. She followed them. ‘Master Horace, I think you had better explain.'

Orrice explained in somewhat garbled fashion, such was his disgust with events. It did not prevent Miss Pilgrim drawing a correct picture. She gave Effel's boater a stern look.

‘Lift your head, child,' she said, and the boater came up and Effel's face appeared, her mouth closed mutinously. ‘I believe, miss, you've no liking for Alice French.'

‘Ugh,' said Effel.

‘Or her skipping-rope.'

‘Ain't saying.'

‘Absurd child, you have made yourself unhappy. Go into the scullery.'

In the scullery, she poured warm water from the kettle into a bowl in the sink. She washed Effel's hands with a soapy flannel. She washed them thoroughly, and then scrubbed them. The palms of Effel's hands turned pink. Miss Pilgrim examined them.

‘Miss Pilgrim, what yer doing?' asked Orrice.

‘You have said, Master Horace, that Alice's skipping-rope had pink handles. Your unhappy sister carries the mark. God has his own way of pointing a finger. Ethel, why did you take the rope?'

Effel, staring at her pink palms, gulped.

‘I – I—'

‘Yes?' said Miss Pilgrim crisply.

‘She wants to take Orrice away from me,' said Effel painfully.

‘Child, no-one can do that. Horace is your brother, no-one can—' Miss Pilgrim came to a halt. Her dark lashes flickered and her mouth compressed. Then she went on. ‘No-one can take him away from you. What did you do with the skipping-rope?'

‘Effel, you ain't nicked it and lost it, 'ave yer?' said Orrice bitterly.

‘No, I just put it in the cloakroom, under a lav,' burst Effel. ‘I didn't nick it, I didn't. I just put it where she couldn't find it.'

‘Oh, yer sorely trying me,' said Orrice.

‘Come, come, young man, we've all been guilty of childish naughtiness,' said Miss Pilgrim. ‘But we'll have no more of it from either of you. No more pranks from you, Ethel, and no more fighting by your brother at the school gates. Go back to the school, both of you. It will still be open. Retrieve the skipping-rope and take it to Alice at her home in Crampton Street, number fourteen. Ethel, you are to apologize to Alice and to let her know you wish to be friends with her.'