The Orphans of Ardwick Page 3

  Another striking change here was the sound. Birdsong took the place of the crash and din of daily life that was Pip’s home. More notably, there wasn’t a public house in sight. No gin palaces and alehouses choking every inch. Not a murmur of lewd voices or thud of traffic. No drunken fights in these streets, no beggars and thieves and streetwalkers. Life-worn men with dead eyes and empty pockets, and ragged women sporting the usual Saturday-night black eye – where were they? Or screaming babies, and stick-thin children with jutting cheekbones, claw-like hands forever wanting of a crust? Stray and skeletal cats and dogs that roamed and foraged in the rotting refuse that littered their tumbledown streets? The stench and the horror and the hopelessness?

  Not here. Oh no. Not here.

  Tightening her hold on Mack, Pip walked on.

  The maid halted before five or six spotless steps which led to a narrow-fronted, three-storey house of red brick with sandstone dressing. Sparkling sash windows, behind which hung thick, dark-green curtains, dotted the exterior. Beyond two grand columns, and beneath a round-headed entrance, stood a pale blue door with a well-polished brass knocker in the style of a lion’s head.

  ‘This it, then, miss?’ asked Simon, more than a little impressed despite his fatigue.

  ‘That’s right. I’m sure I can manage from— Ay! And where the divil d’you think you’re going?’ the woman added in a hiss, wrenching him back by his collar as he made to climb the steps. ‘You bold bloody article, yer. The main entrance indeed – huh! Is it a fine gentleman you think you are, now? It’d be the back way for the likes of thee – me an’ all, mind, for that matter. But as I said, I can manage from here, thank you very much.’ With a sniff of disdain, she relieved him of his burden and turned for the rear of the house. ‘Now be gone, all of you. Go on, go.’

  ‘But … Wait!’ Simon hurried after her. ‘The coppers, miss, remember? You promised me a few coppers—’

  ‘Ah.’ She halted and a sly glint appeared in her eyes. ‘I did. Mind, that were afore I knew you weren’t up to the job. Took me twice as long, it has, the journey, because of you. Huffing and puffing and stopping every two minutes. I’m dreadful late thanks to thee and will be for it should the master find out. Nay, tha deserves nowt.’

  Pip and Mack stared back in open-mouthed horror and disbelief. Simon, on the other hand, turned puce with rage. ‘Why you snidy, rotten piece … I honoured my end of the deal fair and square, and you know it. You planned this from the off, didn’t you? You had me lug that lot all this way and never intended paying up, did you? This you’re spouting, it’s just an excuse so you don’t have to cough up.’

  ‘Get out of it, you bundle of vermin, afore I—’

  ‘I ain’t shifting, no bloody how, till I gets what’s owed!’

  The woman and boy glared at each other. Suddenly, up ahead, the unmistakable clump of a policeman’s heavy boots cut through the darkening street. Simon turned wary eyes in his direction, and the maid gave a smug sniff. Further words were not needed – both knew who had come out of this victorious. The children couldn’t risk her summoning the constable over, and she knew it. She, a neat clean woman employed in a respectable household, and they … Whatever tale she’d have a mind to concoct, the policeman would take her words as truth over theirs any day of the week.

  Pip shivered. It would be the worst for them. They would likely be hauled away to the cells, she reckoned – or worse, the workhouse. She willed Simon to back down and come away out of it. To her relief, he seemed to hear her silent pleas. With a last, hate-filled look at the maid, he swung on his heel and walked away.

  With a self-satisfied laugh, the maid headed towards the rear of her residence and the traders’ and domestics’ entrance, as she’d earlier mentioned. The urge to run after her and give her a good hard kick on the leg had Pip’s heart banging with the struggle to desist. Just what were they to do, now? Why couldn’t they ever catch a break, just once? Why did the world and everyone in it seem to be against them, constantly against them? she asked herself and tears pricked her eyes. She shot a quick glance ahead and was just in time to see the constable turning off into nearby Rusholme Road, and her despondency lessened somewhat. She gave Mack’s shoulder a gentle squeeze, then she and the youngster hurried after their friend.

  Simon led them across the wide roadway to the heart of the neighbourhood facing: Ardwick Green, a private park for residents of the surrounding houses that fronted it. Fenced with cast-iron railings, the oblong enclosure was, to their eyes, a garden of paradise. Gazing through the bars, Pip half expected to glimpse Adam and Eve amongst the foliage; she’d never seen anything like it in her life. This vast expanse of nature and beauty for such a fortunate few!

  Like the gardens of the houses, the park was ornamented with shrubs and hawthorn, and planted here and there with tall trees. A large glacial erratic – the boulder looked as if it had been a feature almost from the beginning – stared back at them coldly.

  Despite Pip warning that they were not permitted to enter and would be in awful trouble should the constable happen in this direction again, Simon made through the gate. The fight seemed to leave him in a rapid gust. He plopped on to the rotting carpet of leaves beneath a craggy poplar, rested his back against its grey trunk and closed his eyes.

  ‘It was foul of her to con you like she did, lad, and after you breaking your back carrying that lot up here. Mind, it’ll be all right,’ Pip soothed, addressing his bowed head. ‘Summat will come up, you’ll see. We’ve the market to try yet, remember? Aye, there’ll be spoils to be had there, I’ll be bound.’ He didn’t respond, and she squatted beside him. ‘Don’t fret so, Simon. We must keep trying, is all.’

  ‘I’m tired. I’ve nowt left inside. Nothing, nothing.’

  She’d seen him down once or twice in the months she’d known him. But nothing like this. All strength and hope had abandoned him, leaving his body boneless, to curl in on itself. He looked broken. This latest cruelty was the last straw, it was clear, and Pip didn’t know what to do. Simon was the strong one of the three. He was the decision-maker, the one who picked them up when they were in need of support. To see him like this was more than a little frightening. They needed him, she and Mack. They needed him to be who he usually was. She bit her lip and looked about uncertainly.

  A serpent-shaped pond, running the length of the Green, lay in the centre of the grassy promenade, its dark waters glistening silver-jade beneath the early moon. Shuffling across the bank to the water’s edge on his knees, Mack dipped forward and plunged his cupped hands beneath the glassy surface. He drank, repeated the action twice more, then shuffled back to snuggle between Pip and Simon.

  Gaslights beyond were brought fizzing to life and the windows of the houses glowed with soft light. The children sat on, the unwanted yet familiar guests of cold and hunger along with them.

  The rumble of private carriages and clop of hooves sounded in the distance. Then another carriage, and another; likely relatives arriving to join their wealthy families for the festivities. Doors were opened by uniformed maids, and impeccably dressed gentlemen in tall hats and velvet-collared, broad-tailed coats and matching waistcoats over fine lawn shirts drifted inside the comfortable homes. Close behind were their ladies in wide hoop skirts trimmed with flounces, cloaks in plaid or lined with fur of brown and dark grey secured around their shoulders. Elaborate bonnets tied beneath the chin in wide bows completed their dress, while delicate hands were hidden snugly in matching muffs. Sometimes, a nursemaid followed with their plump, cherry-cheeked charges, immaculate in pale-coloured frocks or breeches. The occasional servant in tow, noiseless in well-trained fashion, took up the rear.

  Peeking through the shrubs, Pip watched the elegant processions in wonder. And she’d thought that maid’s attire was special! She shook her head, dumbstruck. Compared to these fine people, her apparel had been as plain as they came. Suddenly, as though the mere thought of the nasty piece in question had conjured her up, there she was, emergi
ng from the direction she’d disappeared in earlier, an empty wicker basket over her arm and a face like thunder. Had she forgotten something when making her purchases and been ordered out again? Pip wondered. Ha – serve her right, too! Mind, the smaller domestic trotting behind her would likely bear the burden of the carrying this time, no doubt.

  She nudged Simon. ‘Look who it ain’t. It’s that bad piece.’ As she spoke, the pale blue front door of the house where the maid was employed opened. A gentleman and two ladies emerged.

  Following her gaze, Simon’s demeanour changed. The maudlin look left him and cunning from years of necessity returned to his eyes. He rose. Without a word, he strode across the Green. Before Pip had time to catch her breath, he swung through the gate and headed for the two groups – who were almost level with each other now, going their different ways – step purposeful, head high.

  ‘Miss? Miss?’

  To say the maid was surprised was putting it mildly – her face was a picture. Holding Mack’s hand, a nervous Pip watched on from a distance. Just what did Simon plan? Fancy him confronting her like this – in front of her fine employers, too! By, but he was brave. Braver than herself, that was for sure.

  With a nervous lick of her lips, the maid looked to the gentleman and ladies, who had halted to turn curious stares on the urchin standing close by. ‘On your way,’ she told Simon quietly, though anger sparked from her eyes. ‘You’ve no business begging around here—’

  ‘I’m not begging, miss. I’ve come asking on the brass you owe me, is all.’

  Her lips bunched in embarrassed fury. ‘Brass? Brass? I don’t know what—’

  ‘Do you know this … boy, Hardman?’ cut in one of the ladies with a haughty lift of her chin.

  ‘Nay. Certainly not, Mrs Goldthorpe. I’ve never clapped eyes on him in my life.’

  ‘Aye, she does.’ Simon nodded. ‘Swindled me out of some coppers, earlier, she did. I lugged a load of purchases for her and she promised—’

  ‘Oh! Liar.’

  ‘The only liar’s thee and I reckon your master deserves to know what a black-hearted divil he has amongst his labour force—’

  ‘Silence at once!’

  They all jumped at the authoritative voice of the gentleman, whose face had turned a dull purple. He paused to flash a smile and touch his tall hat to an affluent-looking couple walking by, who gazed with undisguised disgust at Simon and horror that he should be in their acquaintance’s company, before addressing them again, his colour higher still. ‘What is the meaning of this outrage? How dare you accost my servants and my family in this manner with your wild accusations! Be gone instantly, you young criminal, before I have you locked in prison.’

  ‘Sir, she lies!’ But Simon’s protests fell on deaf ears. The gentleman and his lady friends were walking away, although one of the ladies looked back several times as though she wanted to say something until the gentleman, taking her arm firmly, hurried her along. ‘Please, we need the money she promised for grub. Bread’s poorly sick and—’

  ‘You heard,’ the maid shot over her shoulder as she too made off in the opposite direction, a look of such sly smugness on her face it had Pip’s head swinging in anger. ‘Get gone, you smelly slum rat,’ she finished in a hiss before hurrying on, the young servant in her company running to catch her up.

  Moments later, the street was once more deserted.

  Slipping out of hiding, Pip and Mack made towards Simon, standing ramrod straight in the road. His face moved not a muscle when she touched his shoulder. ‘Oh, lad. Let’s get out of here, eh?’

  Still, he didn’t respond.

  ‘We’ll try the market instead as we planned—’

  ‘I ain’t shifting till I gets what’s owed.’

  ‘But Simon, it’s useless! You heard what they said—’

  ‘Aye, I did.’ His eyes were steely, his mouth a mere line. ‘I’ve had just about enough of folk like her the day and beyond. Enough, d’you hear?’

  ‘Lad—’

  ‘I’ll get what I’m due, all right, one way or t’ other.’

  ‘Where you going?’ Dragging Mack along, Pip hurried in Simon’s wake as he marched to the house. He glared at the door, nodded once and stalked off towards the rear entrance. Once more, Pip followed. Sickly foreboding ran through her; she tried again: ‘What are you about? Lad, what—?’

  ‘There.’ Simon jerked his head to the wide step by the back door. ‘See that? I ain’t shifting from it till I gets my brass. She must pass through yon door again some time – I’ll bombard her till she coughs up. She ain’t getting away with this, Pip.’

  ‘But Simon, prison, remember? The master said—’

  ‘He’ll not spot me back here, has no reason to venture this way.’

  ‘But … lad, this is madness. We can’t stop here for ever.’

  ‘You don’t have to, nay.’ For a brief moment, his face softened. He looked down at the boy who was shivering by her side, then back to her. ‘Take yourself and Bread—’

  ‘Mack.’

  He rolled his eyes. ‘Take yourself and Mack back to Ancoats. Try your luck at the market, and afterwards find shelter for the night nearby. Stick to the vicinity. I’ll come and find you once this Hardman divil’s paid up.’

  At this, Pip was emphatic. ‘Nay. We’ll not without thee.’

  ‘Just do as I say. The lad needs grub in his belly—’

  ‘Aye, as do we all. D’you know what we need more, mind? To stick together. If you go, we go. If you stay …’ She shrugged then motioned to the step. ‘Best make ourselfs comfy, ain’t we?’

  Slowly, his mouth stretched in a wry smile. ‘Best foot forward, then. No whingeing, mind, when your arse turns frozzen; it was your idea to stay, remember?’

  With a smile of her own, she nodded and shepherded Mack across to the length of scrubbed stone.

  They hunkered down with grim purpose. Pip rearranged her shawl to encompass the three of them in its meagre warmth and with simultaneous sighs, they huddled together.

  Glancing at the gold-lit windows of the adjoining house, she released another long breath. ‘Imagine dwelling in such places as these, though, lad?’ she murmured.

  ‘Aye,’ Simon agreed quietly.

  ‘It’d be fair heaven, it would. I ain’t never known the like.’ She flicked her eyes to either side. ‘By, even the step here’s cleaner than the inside of most lodging houses back round our way. Faults aside, I’ll grant the maid that: she knows her way with a scrubbing brush all right.’

  After some moments, he grudgingly nodded agreement. ‘By, even the door’s as clean and shiny as a new pin. As for the knob,’ he added, reaching up a hand to the polished globe, ‘you can see your face in it.’

  ‘Must take some toiling to run a house such as this, it’s true, but Simon, I’d do it for nowt. I would, ’onest,’ she told him with feeling.

  ‘Pip …’

  ‘Nay, really,’ she insisted. ‘I’d not want wages, I’d not. Just to dwell beneath a roof such as this would be payment enough—’

  ‘Pip.’

  At Simon’s excited tone, now, she turned towards him. His bright wide eyes caused her brow to crinkle. ‘Lad?’

  ‘Unlocked.’

  ‘What is?’ She followed his gaze up. Clutching the knob, he twisted his hand and ever so slightly pushed; sure enough, the door eased inwards half an inch. Light streamed through the crack to fall across their disbelieving faces.

  ‘Unlocked,’ he repeated. ‘The bleedin’ thing’s unlocked!’

  Chapter 3

  A HUNDRED SIGHTS, sensations and smells hit them all at once as they peered, heads pressed together, around the door.

  The long room was empty of sound, bar the soft rumble of the huge fire burning merrily to their right. Taking in at a glance that no persons were present, Simon moved tentatively inside. He’d taken half a dozen steps before Pip regained her senses. She shook her head with a gasp.

  ‘Lad, nay! We shouldn’t!’


  He gazed around the kitchen without answering. An enormous, six-foot cooking range shone gold-black in the glowing light of lamps dotted along the walls – this, his eyes fixed on and as though in a trance, he headed across to it. Several iron cooking pots, containing what, Pip didn’t know, threw out the most glorious aromas, mingling with the heady scent of beef roasting behind the small oven door to the side. A wave of saliva burst inside her mouth, almost choking her. Swallowing hard, she forced her feet to remain on the doorstep; for two pins, they would be across the stone floor if she wasn’t careful, she just knew. In her starvation state, the strength it took to resist was agony.

  ‘Have you ever seen the like?’ breathed Simon, glancing at her over his shoulder.

  ‘We must go. Come away, lad, come away,’ she begged, wringing her hands. She turned her head to scan the black night outside. ‘Eeh, if someone should arrive—’

  ‘They’ll not. Didn’t we see them leave with our own two eyes?’

  ‘Aye, but … What about the rest of the household; other servants and suchlike—’

  ‘What a sight! By, it’s kings and queens lives here, I’m certain.’ He motioned to a tall, silver stand on the side. Neatly arranged on its four circular shelves was an array of fancy cakes and biscuits in differing shapes and sizes. After a moment’s hesitation, Simon reached out a hand. He selected a sugar-dusted square of sponge and slowly carried it to his mouth.

  Watching him close his eyes and the lines melt from his face as he chewed, Pip couldn’t help whispering, ‘What’s it taste like, lad?’

  ‘Oh, heaven.’ He shook his head. ‘Merry Christmas, Simon,’ he murmured, looking every inch as though the festive day had indeed come early for him – all his Christmases at once, even. ‘Oh, Pip, come and try some. Fetch Bread.’

  A soft moan escaped her. Her toes twitched in her patched boots, itching to go to him, as though they had taken on a life of their own. When she spoke, her voice was little more than a croak. ‘But it’s stealing.’