The Orphans of Ardwick Page 2

  She hadn’t time to respond; before she could utter another word, he guided Mack through a dark and narrow alleyway up ahead. Pausing by the mouth of the opening, she watched the figures walk away. Of their own accord, her teeth moved to chew at her lower lip. Slowly, her excitement was beginning to wane and for reasons she couldn’t fathom, a feeling of foreboding trickled through her. But she was being daft, wasn’t she? He was a gentleman and he’d spoken kindly. He was going to give them a few shillings – aye, at least, he’d said – and they would be all right, then, wouldn’t they? They could buy some grub and a hot drink, and Mack would stop crying for a while. And they would even have the pennies for a kip in a lodging house tonight instead of the cold flagstones they usually called their bed. Then why did she have this queer rolling in her stomach, as if something was amiss?

  ‘Mack.’ The whisper fell from her lips and her chest constricted. Mack!

  ‘What about him?’

  Pip whipped around to find Simon behind her. A relieved breath escaped her. ‘Simon. I don’t know … Something doesn’t feel – feel right, and …’

  ‘What d’you mean?’ He flicked his gaze down and around. ‘Where is he? Where’s Bread?’

  She pointed to where the two shapes had almost disappeared in the distance. ‘There were a gentleman. And – and he promised to give Mack some brass, told me to wait here—’ She gasped as, with a growled curse, Simon charged past her and set off at full speed down the entry. ‘Simon, wait! What—?’

  ‘’Ere, you get away from him, you filthy bastard, yer!’

  Hot on Simon’s heels, Pip gasped again as he threw himself at the flabbergasted gentleman, sending his tall hat bouncing to the muck-strewn ground. ‘Let go of his hand, Bread. D’you hear me? Do as I say – let go of it, now!’

  ‘What is the meaning of this?’ Blustering with fury, the man held on tighter to Mack. ‘You young street monkey, I’ll dash your brains out!’ With his free hand, he raised his cane and brought it down across Simon’s back. ‘You dare to behave like that to one of your betters? I’ll knock you back into your place, my boy. I will, all right!’

  The change in the man’s demeanour had Pip rooted to the spot in shock. Venom now screamed from the once kind eyes and spittle had formed at the corners of his twisted mouth.

  The blow had stolen the wind from Simon’s lungs; coughing and groaning on his hands and knees, he raised his head. ‘You get on out of it or so help me, I’ll do for you,’ he brought out breathlessly. ‘I know your game, all right. I’ve come across enough of your sort in my time.’

  The man, though still stiff-lipped with anger, blanched at Simon’s words and Pip was filled with confusion. Just what had Simon meant by that? She herself had sensed something was afoot, it was true, but hadn’t been able to put her finger on why. Simon, however, seemed to know exactly what was going on and she could tell he was correct in his guess; the man’s face confirmed it. When the lad staggered to his feet, she turned to him with a frown. ‘Simon?’

  Ignoring her, he addressed the man again. ‘Let him go.’

  ‘Nay, Simon.’ Mack stuck out his chin in a pout. ‘I want to go with the gentleman. He’s going to give me brass and I’m hungry. I want to, I want to!’

  The older boy’s eyes never strayed from the man’s. ‘Let him go,’ he repeated through gritted teeth.

  After a long hesitation, throughout which the man glared down on Simon with such fury in his eyes it seemed he would pounce and murder him on the spot at any moment, he released the youngster’s hand. Mack made to grasp it again but he thrust him away towards Simon and Pip. He stooped and lifted his hat. Then he pointed a long, pale finger at Simon. ‘I never forget a face,’ he murmured. ‘You’ll do well to remember that.’ He struck the ground with the tip of his cane, turned on his heel and strode off.

  When he’d disappeared, Simon visibly sagged. He closed his eyes and breathed deeply.

  ‘I hate you, I hate you!’ Mack beat at Simon’s chest with his small fists. ‘You sent the kind gentleman away and now we’re still hungry and it’s all your fault!’

  Simon caught the child’s shoulders and shook him none too gently. ‘Enough, d’you hear? We don’t need brass off divils like that.’

  ‘Divils like what? What d’you think he intended, lad?’

  Simon flashed Pip a withering look. ‘I don’t think, I know. Christ sake,’ he added quietly when she frowned, still in confusion, ‘do I really have to spell it out? Some folk have an appetite for young flesh. Like to do things … touch where they shouldn’t. He were one of them.’

  ‘You mean …?’ Colour rising, she shook her head slowly.

  ‘Aye. By hook or by crook, they’ll do owt for a taste of it. They … hurt people, and think nowt of it so long as they get what they’re after.’

  She studied his face for a moment. His eyes were empty of emotion, his mouth set as though in stone, and sadness filled her. She opened hers to ask if he spoke of this from experience but, as though sensing her intention, Simon swung about and made for the street again. She and Mack followed in silence.

  As though matters were not bad enough, moments later the leaden clouds decided to release a steady drizzle of rain. Stamping their feet to coax some warmth into them, they looked about. Already it was late afternoon and the sky was losing its light. Not that much sun ever did manage to penetrate the thick blanket of noxious smoke from thousands of industrial and domestic chimneys. This, coupled with the winter months, seemed to encase the residents in perpetual gloom.

  Designed to tempt Christmas customers, the surrounding shop windows were a feast to the eyes if, for the three of them at least, nothing else. Pip tried not to look but it was impossible. Saliva filled her mouth and her stomach growled in response. Plump birds for those with extra brass to spare, and cheap offcuts of meat and sheep heads for those who didn’t, winked back from behind the thin panes. Big and small loaves, wheels of cheeses, brown and white eggs and colourful vegetables, fruit and figs and nuts and sweet pastries … She wrenched her gaze away with a low moan.

  ‘I feel queer, Simon.’ Mack gripped the older lad’s arm to stop himself from stumbling. His face had turned a worrying shade of grey and his eyes were glassy. ‘Need to … sit down.’

  Without a word, the older lad supported him across the cobbles and eased him down to the ground to lean against the cold bricks of a towering warehouse. Mack closed his eyes and Simon glanced around with narrowed ones.

  ‘It’s the hunger, that’s all, Mack,’ Pip told him soothingly, stroking the top of his head. ‘The dizziness will pass.’

  ‘Aye, and it’ll be back soon enough.’ Simon’s gaze now held an expression of desperation. Again, he scanned the street from end to end in search of opportunity. ‘We can’t go another day without grub. We need brass.’

  ‘Did you …?’ She had to force the words out through her disapproval. However, Mack was in a hopeless state; she must ask. ‘The owd fella whose pocket you set your sights on …?’

  Simon shook his head. ‘I couldn’t get close enough. I think he guessed what I were about.’

  Pip gave a sigh of relief, yet it was tinged with despair. Just what were they to do? Not a morsel had passed their lips since yesterday morning – and then but a hunk of dry bread apiece from a driver as payment for watching his horse while he ran an errand. As soon as he disappeared, they had cupped their hands into a rusty pail in the corner of his cart and drunk as much of the cloudy water meant for his beast as they could stomach. It had placated their cramping guts for a short while and the bread kept the gnawing at bay for a time longer, but all too soon familiar hunger had crept back, as it always did. Now, they were nearing breaking point. She herself felt weak; her head hurt and her mouth was parchment dry. Although he didn’t show it, Simon must feel the same. He was bigger than her and Mack, and so too was his appetite.

  The gentleman from earlier flashed into her mind and she sighed sadly, recalling the happiness his promise ha
d brought. Yet her hopes of hot food and a warm bed had soon been dashed. Did some people really do … those sort of things … with children? Not that she disbelieved Simon, but still, it was difficult to think on it.

  Her eyes swivelled round to the tiny boy huddled on the flagstones and anger sparked in her breast. Simon had said the man would have hurt him. How could anyone think of taking advantage of a child’s desperation to satisfy their own depraved needs? And a gentleman at that. You couldn’t trust anyone, could you?

  Not no one, not really. And especially not mams. For mams left you, just as hers had left her. She’d gone and died, leaving Pip all alone. And she missed her, in ways she couldn’t even describe. And these lads; their mams had left them, too. Did they miss them? Pip wondered. They must, surely. Mind, they never mentioned them. As always, Simon kept his feelings to himself, and Mack was likely too young to remember his mam much. Pip didn’t speak of hers, either. What was the point? It hurt and she was gone, for ever. Best not to dwell on things that couldn’t be changed.

  ‘I reckon our best bet is the market, later,’ Simon was saying now. ‘Whether Bread will be up to the walk, mind … Well, he’ll have to be, won’t he? He’ll not get his belly filled else.’

  Pip brightened slightly. Smithfield Market would surely tip up a few of its spoils. Thousands flocked there each week, and Christmas was busier still. Surely someone would take pity on them there? Thoughts of the hot chestnuts, pigs’ trotters and pie sellers had her mouth filling with saliva once more. Or perhaps busy traders might require a helping hand with something? They could earn a penny or two that way. And if all else failed …

  She bit her lip guiltily. The heaving, bustling space would be crammed with carts and stalls piled high with every manner of foodstuff you could imagine – if Simon managed to swipe something, then just this once, she’d turn a blind eye. Aye, for Mack, for he needed something in his stomach soon, it was clear to see. He’d only grow sicker otherwise; surely the good Lord would understand?

  ‘If nowt else, there’ll be plenty of skenning sods falling from the taverns the night,’ Simon continued, as though reading her thoughts. ‘Whether you approve or no, their pockets will be lighter by the time they reach home, an’ all. Needs must, and you don’t get much needier than that,’ he muttered, jerking his head towards Mack, who was still propped against the wall and had fallen into a fitful sleep.

  Pip was silent for a moment, then, ‘Happen we can find ourselfs somewhere warm and dry to kip around there? A stable, mebbe?’ she said. A slow smile spread across Simon’s face and she grinned.

  ‘Aye, well. It was good enough for the Holy Family, eh? Mind, I reckon Bread’s a bit big to pass as Jesus.’

  Pip giggled. ‘Mack, Simon, not Bread. Remember? And anyroad, that would make us Mary and Joseph – and we’re not big enough!’

  ‘’Ere, happen three wise men will visit us in the night bearing gifts.’

  ‘Eeh, I hope they fetch grub,’ she breathed dreamily.

  ‘Aye, a couple of cakes or a nice chop.’

  The children cast each other a soft smile and lapsed into silence once more.

  A plump girl of seventeen or eighteen emerged from a confectioner’s up the street, a laden wicker basket over each arm and a small pile of brown-paper packages in her hands, and they watched her idly. When she drew level, she caught them staring and her eyes turned thoughtful. She bobbed her head in a nod.

  ‘You, boy.’

  Simon touched his chest. ‘Me, miss?’

  ‘Aye, you. Come here.’

  Pip watched his thin legs skitter across the road. Folding her arms, she frowned. What they spoke about, she didn’t know – Simon nodded several times and turned to point to her and Mack, but he and the woman were too far away for Pip to hear what they were saying. When finally he turned, his eyes were alive with excitement. He ran back to Pip and in a breathless rush, said, ‘That one wants me to carry her purchases home. She’s a maid in a house up Ardwick Green, said as how there would be a few coppers in it for me.’ He motioned to Mack, who had roused and was yawning and rubbing his eyes. ‘Help him along, will thee, whilst I see to her things. Come on afore she changes her mind.’

  Pip’s heart gave a flutter of happy relief. ‘Eeh, that’s a bit of good fortune, eh? Is it one of the big residences, aye?’

  Already turning back to the road’s edge, he shrugged. ‘Must be if it’s up that end. Just think, happen she’ll take us into the kitchen. I’ll lay it on to the cook, like; if she’s owt about her, she’ll surely find us a plate of summat. Come on!’

  Pip highly doubted this but nonetheless nodded. The promised brass would be welcome enough. Aye, more than welcome; she could almost taste the grub that they would be able to buy. Mack leaned on her heavily and she supported him with an arm around his shoulders.

  Luckily, their destination wasn’t such a distance off. It lay just across the River Medlock, which formed a boundary between it and Manchester proper. It was where the most powerful and important men in the city lived, the rich factory owners and cotton merchants, she knew that much, but she’d never ventured across before; had no reason to. Besides, folk of her ilk were not welcome in vicinities in which the genteel made their homes. Should a police officer spot them loitering around streets such as those, they would be accused of being up to no good and hauled away quick smart. They had a good excuse today, though. The maid, here, would back them up should the need arise.

  The female in question surveyed them with undisguised distaste as they approached, and Pip felt herself flush with shame. They must look a dreadful sight. Their clothes and bodies were filthy, their hair lank and matted, and all of them were far from bug free. And it was evident that wasn’t all they had going against them when the maid held a hand to her nose with a shudder of revulsion.

  ‘Mother of God, you lot stink summat awful!’

  ‘’Ere, miss, I’ll take them,’ Simon said, his tone flat.

  He held out his arms and the woman relieved herself of the baskets with a thankful grunt. She then plonked the packages into his hands, turned and with a flick of her head, barked, ‘Well, come on, then, and hurry up about it. This way.’

  Chapter 2

  THEY PASSED ALONG London Road in silence, the maid walking a few steps ahead. Pip’s eyes travelled the length of her, and her own ragged appearance in comparison struck her acutely still. From the neat hat, adorned with sprigs of artificial winter berries, perched atop the clean brown hair, down to the trim jacket, pinched in at the waist, and long, dark skirts with no tears or patching in sight, which swish-swished as she moved – to Pip’s eyes, she looked glorious. Black-booted feet peeped out from beneath and their small heels met the frosty flagstones with a gentle click at each impatient step.

  Pip was certain that it must be wonderful to be a domestic, wear clothes and boots such as those and live in a fancy house with meals on tap – and a regular wage into the bargain. Oh, she wanted to be a maid, she did. She opened her mouth to address the woman, ask her how girls went about being taken on, but thought better of it. Her stiff back and earlier reaction to them set her in an intimidating light. Pip knew she wouldn’t take too kindly to being spoken to by a vagrant like herself. Happen Simon would know? He knew about most things; she’d ask him later, she determined with a nod.

  Lost in thoughts of the three of them one day soon working side by side in a beautiful home – surely there would be positions for the lads, too? – Pip was brought up short when Simon suddenly halted in front of her. His breathing was heavy and twin spots of colour stained his cheeks. His heavy cargo, coupled with his weakened strength due to lack of sustenance, were taking their toll.

  ‘Shall I help?’ she asked, holding out her free hand, but he shook his head.

  Wincing, he stretched his back muscles then sighed when the maid, turning and seeing he’d stopped, snapped at him to get a move on. He straightened, gritted his teeth against the pain, and continued along.

 
By the time they had crossed the river over Ardwick Bridge and reached the corner of Tipping Street, Simon looked as Mack had earlier: pallid faced and fit to collapse. Here, with obvious reluctance, the servant allowed him to pause briefly to catch his breath. He readjusted the baskets’ handles over his arms and they were off once more, their tired feet tripping over themselves to match the strides of the maid as she passed on through Downing Street.

  They emerged into a broad and leafy road. Now, it was Pip who stopped dead in her tracks. Despite the relatively short distance from the slums of Ancoats they had just left, it was a cavernous difference, as though stepping into a whole other world.

  Like the affluent areas of Higher Broughton and Cheetham Hill to the north, the attractive spot of Ardwick, situated about a mile south-east of the centre of the city, was a fashionable and wealthy suburb. With each passing second, the very air itself had seemed to shift. A clean-smelling breeze drifted in to wrap around their lungs like a silken shroud. Pip drank it in greedily in great gulps and gazed about.

  Differing shades of green had replaced the uniform grey she was used to. The bricks of the magnificent Georgian terraces, as yet unmarred by chimney smoke, were not soot-blackened red but retained their bold hue. No damp and decrepit dwellings here. No mills belching out their noxious filth on these privileged few. Such businesses were to the owners as to the workers they employed: their bread and butter. However, that didn’t mean they desired to live near their premises – far from it. They wouldn’t soil their lungs with the pollution they created – unlike their less fortunate workers who, ironically, lived and toiled in such conditions to make their masters the vast wealth which enabled them to enjoy this luxury.

  Most of the better class rarely came into contact with ‘lowers’. Conveniently, they took the shortest route to their businesses of work each day and back again, bypassing the squalor of the other world and all it entailed, blissfully ignorant and blind to it all.