скачать книгу бесплатно
The workman frowned, pushing his cap to the back of his head. ‘I’ve finished me shift, love. You’d best come with me. I’ll see you safe to Canning Town station, but you’re on your own from there.’
‘Thank you. You’re very kind.’
‘I’d hope someone would do the same if any of my girls was in need of help. Follow me.’ He loped off, leaving Rose to carry her heavy bag, but she was more than grateful. It was obvious that something momentous must have occurred to prevent Max from meeting her, and she would have to find her own way to the Captain’s House. Sadie always spoke fondly of the old house on the wharf that was now owned by Max’s older sister, Caroline, who had married well. Rose trudged after her protector, glad of his presence as she received whistles and indecent proposals from some of the men who were loitering around the dock gates.
At the ticket office her new friend turned to her. ‘Got your money ready, miss?’
Rose had her purse in her hand, but it felt very light and she knew that the money in it would not take her very far. She took out her last silver sixpence. ‘How far will this get me?’
The man in the ticket office seized the coin. ‘Fenchurch Street, miss.’
‘That’s where I’m going,’ Rose said firmly. She had no idea where Fenchurch Street was in relation to Wapping, but she had a dim memory of hearing the name and it seemed familiar. Anything was better than being stuck out here in the cold and dark.
‘I’ll leave you to it, then. Good night, miss.’
She turned to thank the man but he had vanished into the fog. ‘I didn’t even know his name,’ she said out loud.
The railway clerk handed her a ticket. ‘What did you say, miss?’
‘Nothing. Thank you.’
‘Platform one, miss.’
‘Thank you.’ She made her way to platform one, walking as fast as her cramped and tired limbs would allow. At least it would be warm on the train and she could sit down in comfort, for a little while. But where was Max? Why hadn’t he been there when she needed him?
She had only been able to afford a third-class ticket, and when the train arrived it was overcrowded, with standing room only, and the passengers were crammed in shoulder to shoulder. After nearly two months at sea, breathing in the fresh salt-laden air, Rose felt that she was suffocating, and the smell of sweaty bodies and unwashed clothing was almost too much to bear. When the train eventually pulled into Fenchurch Street station she was forcibly ejected as her fellow travellers pushed and shoved in their efforts to leave the compartment.
Standing on the platform, a small island in the midst of a swirling sea of people, Rose had never felt so alone in her whole life. She grabbed the first woman who was about to rush past her.
‘Excuse me, please. Can you tell me how to get to Wapping?’
The pale-faced woman, whose brown eyes were blank with fatigue, pulled her arm free with an angry twist of her thin lips. ‘You should have got off the train at Leman Street.’
‘I didn’t know that,’ Rose said humbly. ‘Where do I go from here?’
The woman pointed vaguely. ‘Head that way until you get to the Minories and then walk down Little Tower Hill and turn into Upper East Smithfield. You’ll have to ask directions when you get there, but keep going towards the river and you’ll get to Wapping High Street. Be careful who you speak to, girl. There’s some odd sorts round there.’ She wrapped her shawl around her head and dived into the crowd without giving Rose a chance to thank her.
There was nothing for it but to start walking. Rose tried to remember the woman’s hurried instructions, but the fog was even thicker here than it had been in the Royal Victoria Dock, and she had to keep stopping to ask the way. Sometimes her enquiries were met with a helpful answer, but more often than not people ignored her and walked past.
It soon became obvious that she was lost – the landmarks were obliterated by the fog and her breathing became more laboured with each step she took. She had lost all sense of time, but it felt like the middle of the night. The occasional cab lurched past her, but the horses moved at a plodding pace, and it was not until they were almost upon her that it was possible to gauge how close they were, making it necessary for her to leap out of the way. Rose’s nerves were shredded and she was exhausted and very hungry. Desperation was making her reckless, and, as she felt her way from wall to wall, she was suddenly aware of a shaft of light and the sound of raucous voices. The smell of ale and spirits wafted out of the pub in a cloud of tobacco smoke. Rose was about to go inside when someone grabbed her by the arm.
‘I’d steer clear of that place if I was you, dearie.’
Rose struggled but she was hampered by her heavy carpet bag and the woman had a grip of steel. ‘What’s it to you?’ she said crossly.
‘Up from the country are you?’
Rose dumped her baggage on the pavement. ‘Who are you?’
‘I’m a friend, love. But you’re not from round here, are you? You wouldn’t want to go in there if you was up to snuff.’
Rose sighed. ‘I was born in London, but my pa took me to Australia when I was a nipper.’
The woman leaned forward to peer into Rose’s face. ‘I’m Cora Smith, and if you’ve got any sense in that noddle of yours you’ll take my advice and move on from here. What’s your name?’
‘I’m Rose Munday and I’m trying to get to the Captain’s House on the wharf at Wapping.’
Cora threw back her head and laughed. ‘There’s lots of wharfs at Wapping, love. D’you know which one?’
‘No, but it wasn’t far from the dock police station. I remember that.’
‘Well, that’s a start. Come on then. Seems to me this is my night to be a good citizen, for a change.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘My, my, you are a persistent little thing. What did they teach you in Australia, Rose Munday? Didn’t they have women like me, with painted lips and rouged cheeks, what earns their living by any way they can – mostly flat on their backs or—’
‘Yes, I understand,’ Rose said hastily. ‘I grew up in a mining town so I know how it goes.’
‘Tell you what, Rose. I was going to point you in the right direction, but I don’t want your dead body floating downriver on me conscience. I know this part of London like the back of me hand and I’ll see you safely home. Is someone waiting for you?’
‘I hope so,’ Rose said fervently. ‘Max was going to meet me – he gave me his word.’
‘Men and their promises.’ Cora tossed her head. ‘Come on, this peasouper ain’t going to clear before morning. Let’s get going.’
They seemed to have been walking for hours. Rose could feel blisters at the point of bursting on her heels, and she was just beginning to think she would drop from exhaustion when Cora came to a sudden halt. ‘Watch where you go.’
Slowly and painfully Rose followed Cora down a steep flight of steps, and she was in familiar territory at last. Despite the sulphurous stench of the fog mixed with the smoke from thousands of chimneys, the smell of the river mud took her back to her childhood. In her mind’s eye she could see the run-down boatyard where her father had struggled to make a living. It had been her home and she had forgotten the hardships, remembering only the hot summer days when she had paddled in the shallows and picked wildflowers on the river-bank.
‘This must be it,’ she whispered. ‘The Captain’s House can’t be far now and Max will be there waiting for me.’
‘I wouldn’t bet on it, love.’ Cora reached out to clutch Rose’s hand. ‘Keep close to me. There’ll be coils of rope, chains and all sorts waiting to trip you up and fling you into the river.’ She paused. ‘Can you hear it? The water is lapping the wharf and that means it’s high tide.’
‘Yes, I remember now.’
‘Good. Then you know that if you fall in you won’t stand a chance. No one will see you and they won’t hear your cries for help. The current will suck you under and you’ll be a goner.’
‘Why are you doing this for me, Cora? Why would you want to help someone you’ve never met before?’
‘You ask too many questions. Come on. I’m dying for a smoke and a drink, and the sooner I deliver you, the sooner I can find a nice warm pub.’
‘All right. I’m coming.’ Rose tried not to drag her feet as she followed Cora, who seemed to have limitless energy. Then, just as Rose was about to give up, she was aware of a different smell and one that was very familiar. It was a mixture of burning sugar, roasting coffee beans and spices emanating from the warehouses surrounding the docks.
‘This is it,’ she said excitedly. ‘We must be very near. I remember how it smelled when the wind was in a certain direction.’
‘There ain’t no wind, duck. It’s your imagination.’
‘You’re wrong. I know this is the place.’ Rose dropped her bag and, holding her arms outstretched, she walked slowly, feeling the way until she came to the wooden steps. She ran her fingers over the rail and there it was. ‘This is the house,’ she cried triumphantly. ‘Max carved his initials on this piece of wood the day before we left for Australia.’
‘Then there’s only one thing to do.’ Cora pushed past her and marched up the steps to hammer on the door. ‘I want to meet this young man of yours and give him a piece of my mind for leaving a kid like you to find her way home in the middle of a London particular.’ She took a step backwards as the door opened and a pale shaft of light pierced the fog.
‘What d’yer want?’
Rose hesitated. It was not Max’s voice and a shiver ran down her spine. ‘I’ve come to see Max Manning,’ she said nervously.
‘Who?’
‘You heard her, mister,’ Cora said angrily. ‘Have you got cloth ears or something?’
‘Less of your lip.’ The man held the lantern close to Cora’s face. ‘Ho, touting for business, are you? You’d best come in then.’ He reached out a skinny but muscular arm and yanked Cora over the threshold before she had a chance to argue.
Rose dropped her carpet bag and ran to Cora’s aid. ‘Leave her alone. We just want to see Max.’
‘There ain’t no one of that name here, girl.’ The man shoved Cora so hard that she stumbled and fell in a heap with a flurry of red flannel petticoats, exposing legs clad in black stockings.
‘What have you done with Max?’ Rose demanded, standing her ground. ‘Where is he?’
‘What’s going on, Sid?’ A second man staggered out of what Rose remembered to be the front parlour. ‘What’s all the din?’
‘We got company, Wilf. Two ladies of the night to warm our beds. It must be our lucky day.’ Sid slammed the front door and leaned against it, folding his arms across his chest. ‘Nice of you to come calling, ladies. I think I’ll take the younger one. You can have the old tart, Wilf. Let’s get to it before the others come to.’
‘No,’ Rose cried. ‘There’s been a mistake. We’re looking for someone.’
Cora scrambled to her feet. ‘Move aside, cully.’ Before he had a chance to argue she had a knife to his throat. ‘I don’t go out at night without my chiv, so get away from the door.’
Terrified, Rose held her breath. She had seen plenty of brawls in the streets of Bendigo, but she had never encountered danger at such close quarters.
‘Get out, Rose,’ Cora hissed. She twisted the knife so that it nicked the flabby skin at the base of Sid’s scrawny throat, and she gave him a hearty shove that sent him cannoning into Wilf. The pair of them fell to the floor in a tangle of arms and legs. ‘Run for it, Rose,’ Cora screamed. ‘Run.’
Chapter Two (#u40ff26be-dccf-51e8-9218-248f909f4da2)
Rose wrenched the door open, but in her hurry to escape she misjudged her footing and tumbled down the steps, landing on the carpet bag, which served to break her fall. Unhurt, she scrambled to her feet and Cora leaped to the ground, grabbed Rose by the hand and headed off into the fog. She did not stop until they reached the relative safety of the High Street.
‘That was a close one,’ Cora said breathlessly. ‘I knew I should have walked on when I spotted you outside the pub. This is what I get for doing a good deed.’
‘I’m sorry, Cora.’
‘It’s not your fault, young ’un. Coming here at night in the middle of a peasouper weren’t the best idea I ever had.’ Cora brushed a strand of unnaturally brassy hair from her forehead. ‘What am I going to do with you now? Do you know anyone in London?’
Rose bent double, holding her side in an attempt to relieve a painful stitch. ‘There’s Max’s sister.’
‘Well, why didn’t you say so in the first place? Where does she live?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘That ain’t no help. What’s her name? Maybe I knows her.’
‘She’s called Caroline and she married Phineas Colville. He owns—’
‘He owns the biggest shipping company in England. Well, I’m blowed. Who’d have thought it?’ Cora put her head on one side, narrowing her eyes. ‘You’re not making this up, are you? It ain’t funny.’
‘No. On my honour, it’s true.’
‘On your honour.’ Cora hooted with laughter. ‘Where’d you learn to talk stuff like that?’ She held up her hand. ‘No, don’t tell me. I ain’t sure if you’re genuine or the best little liar I ever met, but I ain’t hanging around here a minute longer than necessary.’ She walked off, heading back the way they had come.
Rose grabbed her bag and hobbled after her. ‘I’m sure that Mrs Colville will vouch for me, Cora. I just need to find out where she lives.’
Cora paused, glancing over her shoulder. ‘Maybe she’ll offer a reward. I mean, a girl has to earn a living. I could have been working instead of traipsing round the docks with you.’
‘I really am sorry.’
‘Of course you are.’ Cora stopped and turned to give Rose a searching look. ‘What am I going to do with you, Rosie? I can’t abandon you, even though common sense tells me that I should.’
‘Maybe I could spend the night at your lodgings?’ Rose suggested tentatively. ‘I haven’t got much money, but I think I have enough to pay my way – for one night, anyway.’
‘Oh, all right. I suppose I ain’t got no choice. You’d best come with me.’
Rose could hardly put one foot in front of the other by the time they reached the run-down building where Cora lived. Rose was completely disorientated and she could not have said where they were, except that she was glad to stumble into the relative warmth of the building when Cora ushered her inside.
‘It ain’t much, but this is where I doss down,’ Cora said firmly. ‘My room is upstairs.’ She mounted the narrow staircase, trailing her hand casually on the banister rail, which was blackened from years of grease and dirt. The flickering yellow gaslight popped and fizzed, adding its own pungent odour to the general fug, but Rose was too tired to be critical. It felt good to be safe from the outside world, even if some of the stair treads were rotten and several of the banister supports were broken or missing.
She had barely reached the first landing when a door opened and a man lurched out, ramming his cap on his head as he pushed past her and thundered down the stairs. A young woman poked her head out, grinning when she spotted Cora.
‘Had a good night, duck?’
Cora jerked her head in Rose’s direction. ‘Got a visitor, watch what you say, Flossie.’
‘Ooh, hark at her, girls.’ Flossie took a drag on her cigarette.
‘Shut up, you silly tart,’ Cora said affably. ‘Poor kid’s just got off the boat from the back of beyond and been let down by her bloke.’
‘We’ve all been there, luv.’ Flossie exhaled a plume of smoke at the grimy ceiling. ‘Did you see Regan hanging around downstairs?’
Cora shook her head. ‘No sign of him. I should take a break if I was you, girl. There’s not much doing out there tonight – it’s a real peasouper.’
Flossie’s throaty laugh echoed off the walls. ‘Good advice. I could use some beauty sleep.’ She stubbed her cigarette out on the doorpost, eyeing Rose curiously. ‘What’s your name, luv?’
‘It’s Rose Munday, miss.’
‘Nice to meet you, Rose. And it’s even nicer to have someone in the house what has good manners. Charmed, I’m sure. My name’s Flossie Boxer, and you can call me Flossie.’
‘Don’t listen to her yakking on and on.’ Cora opened a door further along the narrow passage. ‘Come on, Rose. This is where I hang out.’ She ushered Rose into a small room that contained a brass bed, a chest of drawers and a washstand. A single chair, draped with woollen stockings and a pair of stays, was placed in front of a fire that had burned down to nothing, and an overfull ashtray spilled cigarette butts onto the hearth. Cora tossed her feathered hat onto the bed, followed by her shawl, and she sat down to unlace her boots. ‘You can stay here tonight, but you’ll have to take the chair or sleep on the floor.’
‘Thank you.’ Rose glanced at the Windsor chair, which would not have been out of place in Sadie’s kitchen. ‘I’m so tired I could sleep almost anywhere.’
Cora gave her another searching look. ‘You’re whiter than the sheet on my bed. When did you last eat?’
‘Breakfast,’ Rose said, closing her eyes in an attempt to stop the room from spinning out of control. ‘I didn’t eat much because I was so excited at the thought of seeing Max again. It’s almost two years since we last met.’
