Several months passed and Sarah had all but forgotten her conversation with Betty. Nowadays it was she who was up first. Her extra duties in the nursery meant she was down there even before her friend was about. The new nursery-maid, Sally, was proving an asset, making her life far easier. It was a relief to have a little spare time. Even so she was rarely able to talk to either of her friends and was often too tired to do more than fall into bed and sleep each night.
As this afternoon Sally was free, it fell to her to take the children out in the garden. Sarah missed these afternoon excursions, but it was no longer her job to take the children out. The sun was shining; in the shelter of the brick wall it was almost too warm to sit on the bench and watch the boys play with their hoops. She had been basking in the sun, rolling a ball back and forth to Eliza, when something attracted her attention in the shrubbery.
Surely it couldn’t be? Yes, there were people in the bushes. She couldn’t be sure what they were doing but they must be up to no good. There was a gate in the wall not far from where they were. The intruders must have entered through that and be biding their time before coming in to rob the house. Although it was mid-afternoon, and broad daylight, the house was quiet at this time, staff mostly taking an afternoon break. She jumped up calling the children.
‘Come along, boys, it’s time to go indoors. I thought we could play a game of hide-and-go-seek, but we’ll have to do it quietly. We don’t want to disturb Nanny, do we?’
Her mention of the game brought the three boys to her side immediately. She knew this to be their favourite pastime. She went in by the side door, Eliza in her arms, telling the boys to run on upstairs and hide. At Mrs Hall’s rooms she paused. Should she pass on the information or would the housekeeper think she was bearing tales? No, these people weren’t staff. She had to speak up, or they might all be robbed.
‘Mrs Hall, I’m sorry to disturb you, but I think there are intruders behind that shrubbery over by the back gate. I brought the children in, just in case.’
Mrs Hall stood up, her expression angry. ‘You did the right thing. Return to your duties. I shall deal with the matter myself.’
This was a strange thing to say. Surely Mrs Hall should send for the master, or for one of the male members, and not investigate herself? She puzzled over this as she carried Eliza back to the nursery. However, in the ensuing pandemonium of a game-filled afternoon she forgot all about the mysterious figures in the shrubbery.
She ate her supper in the nursery; it was fetched up by Sally who had returned from her few hours off. It was strange to have someone waiting on her for a change. It was after ten o’clock when she eventually knocked on Nanny’s door.
‘Nanny, the children are asleep and I’m off to my bed.’
‘Good girl, I shall check on them before I retire. Has Sally completed her tasks satisfactorily tonight?’
‘Perfectly. I dismissed her half an hour ago. Goodnight, Nanny.’
She ran upstairs expecting to find Betty waiting to greet her with her usual smiling face. She wanted to ask if the robbers had been apprehended. She rushed into the bedchamber. Her friend was there all right but was staring at her with nothing short of loathing.
‘You little bitch! How could you be so cruel? You ain’t my friend no more – I want to share with Sally from now on.’
‘Betty, what’s wrong? I’ve been busy all day. What have I done?’
‘You told Mrs Hall about Jane and Johnny in the bushes and they’ve both been dismissed without references. That’s what you done.’
Sarah gaped. ‘I didn’t know; how could I know it was Jane and Johnny? I thought it was intruders. Why should they want to…’ She stopped as she realised. ‘They weren’t, you know, doing that?’
Slowly Betty’s expression changed from disgust to comprehension. ‘Didn’t I explain it all to you a while back? When a man and a woman have those urges there’s nothing can stop them.’
‘I’d never have said, not if I’d known. Dismissed without references? That seems so unfair. They were both good workers, and it was in their own time they were, well you know what they were doing.’ She couldn’t believe Jane had been so stupid. Not only had she lost her position, she had also lost her good name and maybe could have caught on as well. ‘Where will they go? At least they can get married now, be together.’
‘They ain’t going to be together. That Johnny packed his bag and shot off. Never even said goodbye to her. He’ll find himself another job; he’s a natural with horses and not many can say that.’
‘But what about Jane? Has she family she can go to? Any savings put by until she finds something else?’
Betty’s laugh was bitter. ‘The only job she’ll get without a reference will be flat on her back for any man what wants to give her a few coppers. If she can’t face that, it’s the workhouse for her.’
Sarah knew there was something she could do to help. ‘Has she left the house yet?’
‘Mrs Hall says she’s to go first thing tomorrow. She’s to stay in her room, not mix with any of us until she leaves.’
‘Thank God! I’m going to write her the best reference any girl could have. All I have to do is sneak into the master’s study and take some paper and an envelope. I’ve got pen and ink on the dresser.’
Her friend insisted on coming with her to keep watch and Sarah was grateful for her company. Sarah knew she was risking losing her own position, but Jane had already lost her employment. They crept down the backstairs, freezing every time one creaked, and with a single candle to light them found their way to the study.
Sarah had never been in here. On the few occasions she’d spoken to Mr Bawtree he’d been passing her in the corridor, or was standing in the drawing room when she brought the children down to see their parents.
‘Is this it? Will it be locked do you think?’
Betty turned the handle and the door opened silently. ‘Quick, get inside. We don’t want to be seen, not now.’
‘Hold the candle up so I can look round. I can see them. The paper and envelopes are in a rack on his desk.’ She ran over and took two pieces of the thick cream parchment and one envelope, praying he didn’t count the sheets next time he came to write a letter.
It took her an hour to compose the reference, and Betty was impressed by her skill. ‘No one would know that’s not real. I’ll slip along and push it under Jane’s door. I’ll tell her what it says.’
She had read the letter out to Betty before she’d sealed it in the envelope. ‘Wait, give her this as well.’ She went to her drawer and removed one of her precious handkerchiefs, then added the half sovereign she’d been given as a bonus and folded it carefully. ‘There’s no point having a good reference, if she’s no money to keep herself nice and pay for her transport. Tell her she must leave Colchester. She can’t risk taking a job here where the gentry all know each other. I’ve given her enough for her fare to London. She’ll find work soon enough down there.’
Betty threw her arms around her neck. ‘You’re a good girl, Sarah Nightingale. I’ll make sure everyone knows what you did for her.’
‘No, you must not. I should lose my position, dismissed like Jane without a reference, if anyone found out what I’d done.’
‘If I don’t, you’ll not be welcome downstairs. Everyone will think you did it on purpose.’
‘But you know I didn’t and so does Jane. That will have to do. Now, you’d better take that letter and then we can get to bed. There’s only a few hours until dawn.’
Sarah washed her inky fingers and removed her uniform. For the first time since she’d arrived at Grey Friars House she didn’t consider it to be the place she wanted to spend the next few years. Mrs Hall had been so harsh. Imagine throwing Jane out to fend for herself after she had worked hard for three years and not a single reprimand until now? It seemed to her that as long as you obeyed the rules you were treated well, but step outside the boundaries and you were thrown out like the garbage.
When Betty returned she was too dispirited to talk so pretended she was already asleep. Her pillow was wet before she settled. One thing was sure: she couldn’t afford to give up her job just because of this. She was an adult and had to get on with things like everyone else.
Tomorrow she’d ask Mrs Hall if she could have the single room after all. If she was going to be unpopular she didn’t want this to rub off on her friend. In future Sally could share with Betty; the girl was unhappy where she was, squashed in with the other maids. From now on she was truly on her own. She’d just have to keep busy and pray that Alfie came back.
* * *
London, June 1842
Alfie abandoned the notion of finding a bathhouse, but with the help of Jim and Nelson he managed to get the worst of the coal dust from both Buster and himself. He was astonished to find the dog’s coat was brown. No one would recognise either of them as the runways – that’s if Black Ben was still looking after all these weeks.
‘Bleedin’ hell, Alfie, you ain’t half a handsome chap. You’ve cleaned up a treat.’
‘And what about me dog, Jim? Ain’t he a sight for sore eyes.’ Alfie glanced up to find an audience of not only the gang, but several other occupants of the lodging house as well. He grinned. ‘I reckon some of them lot would look a deal better after a bath.’
A particularly verminous cove shook his head, his hair a solid mat, his eyes bloodshot. ‘Not natural, that ain’t. What’s the point in washing? You’ll be dirty again in no time.’ The others mumbled in agreement and they shambled off.
‘Them clothes I got down the market ain’t much, but at least I look like everyone else. This yard is a right mess. Will Ma Bishop kick up a stink?’
Nelson shook his head. ‘I don’t reckon she’s bin outside her rooms in years. Ginger’s her runner like, collects the rents, fetches in her food and stuff.’
Alfie shuddered. He hoped he weren’t asked to empty her pot of a morning. As the newest member of the gang the worst jobs might well come his way. ‘Now I’m respectable, I’d like to take a wander around these parts. If this is me home now, I need to know me way about.’
Jim stopped scratching long enough to answer. ‘Ginger says we’s to take you down The Green Dragon. There’s a gent he wants you to meet. Good sort of cove, helps us out with the merchandise what we acquire.’
So far he’d only acted as lookout when the gang were pilfering, but Ginger always gave him an equal share of the cash. The other goods, those that had to be sold on, he had no part of. He didn’t want to get more deeply involved with the thieving and receiving. This man must be the fence. The boys had been open and welcoming – it weren’t right for him to look down on them. They did the stealing, but he was no better than them; in the eyes of the law he was an accomplice.
‘Buster could do with stretching his legs and I’m a mite peckish. I’ve still a few coppers left. I’ll buy us something to eat.’
‘Don’t bovver. Save yer money for something we can’t filch. It’s easy pickings off the barrows. I’ll get you and your tyke something on the way.’ Jim led and Nelson followed.
Alfie was uneasy about stealing food. He’d keep his distance from the other two and when he saw someone selling pasties he’d buy a couple and share them with his dog. They headed down Half Moon Street and out into the busy thoroughfare. He recalled it was called Bishopsgate Street. They turned right at the corner, walking past a large brick building.
‘Oi, Jim, what’s that place on the right?’
Nelson grinned. ‘That’s the bleedin’ workhouse ain’t it? You want to stay away from there.’
‘There’s another one – Bishopsgate Workhouse. It’s in Dunning Alley,’ Jim added. ‘Ginger says I’m to take you round Alderman’s Walk, let you have a squint at the place what’s going to have the big sale next week. It’s down here on the left. Can you read us what the church is called?’
This was an easy one. ‘St Botolph’s – there’s one called that where I come from.’
Jim nodded. ‘Here we are then. The auctioneer sets up his box over there. All the stuff and that is stored in that building until sale day. There’s only one main way in and out. You’ve got to keep yer peepers open for the peelers. Will yer tyke bark if yer asks?’
Alfie considered. ‘I reckon he could. I’ll start learning him when we get back.’
The churchyard went round behind the warehouse. The courtyard was more like a square, a large double-doored brick building made one side of it, and a substantial wall the other. He peered over and could see an orchard with chickens scratching around. It reminded him of home. Well, not his home, but the farm his grandparents leased in West Bergholt. A wave of homesickness engulfed him. His fingers tightened in the rough fur at his dog’s neck.
‘It’s all right, old fellow, nothing’s wrong. I’m thinking about Sarah and Ma. It’s been nigh on a year since I saw them. I must think of getting home before the winter.’ The dog leant against him, his heat too much in the June sunshine.
‘Here, Alfie, look what I found.’ Jim held up a silver sixpence triumphantly. ‘This will buy us a decent feed. Come on, let’s get a move on. Ginger will be waiting for us at The Green Dragon.’
Alfie followed the boys down the narrow street and out into Bishopsgate again. They turned right and Jim crossed the busy thoroughfare and dashed into a small yard. The boy pointed to a sign high on the sooty wall. ‘Wot’s that say then, Alfie?’
He tipped his head back, screwed up his eyes and spelt out the letters in his head. He grinned. ‘Right funny name: Flying Horse Yard. And now there’s two of them. I ain’t never seen a horse fly, nor a pig for that matter.’
‘And the other one’s not a yard neither; it’s a street, ain’t it?’ Jim said.
The boys laughed and ducked through a small door; Alfie thought it better to leave Buster outside. ‘Wait here. I’ll be back with something for you to eat in a minute.’ The dog bumped him as if understanding his words.
Inside the sawdust on the floor was so dirty it looked like soil. But the smell wafting from the back of the room made up for the lack of cleanliness. His mouth watered. He dipped his hand into his pocket and removed a penny. He couldn’t expect Jim to spend his new-found largesse on Buster. It was his job to feed him.
An old crone, stringy grey hair pushed haphazardly under a dingy cap, appeared from the back. ‘You want anything, boy? If not, you can clear orf right now.’
Jim and Nelson were being served by a girl little older than themselves, leaving him to brave the witch. He edged nearer, not sure what to ask for. There was nothing on display. Whatever it was they made, it was done out the back. God knows what went into the pies, but he was starving. He’d even eat roast rat.
‘I want something for me dog. He ain’t fussy.’ He held out his penny. The old lady looked at it and grinned toothlessly.
‘Ow big’s yer animal then?’
Jim, hearing mention of Buster, glanced over. ‘He’s huge, Maggie. And I ain’t never seen anything eat as fast as that the bleedin’ dog of Alfie’s.’
The old lady looked from one to the other. ‘You with Jim? Should ’ave said – he gets special rates.’ She vanished into the back and reappeared with a huge pie that had seen better days. The reek made him gag, but Buster wouldn’t care. He offered her his coin, but she shook her head. ‘No, you ’ave it. Any friends of Jim’s are welcome ’ere.’
The old lady dropped the pie on the sawdust. Obviously Buster would have to come in to eat it. He turned and called. The dog loped in, his tongue lolling. ‘Look, over there – it’s your breakfast. Be quick, it might get up and run away if it stays there much longer.’
Even the old lady chuckled. His dog weren’t too fussy about the age of his breakfast. It vanished in half a dozen swallows and he looked round, licking his chops on the off-chance there might be something else.
The girl smiled at him. ‘I’m Lucy. What’s your name?’
‘I’m Alfie. That’s Buster.’
‘I’ll get him a bone while you eat your pies.’
Jim handed him a large meat-filled pasty. Alfie didn’t care about the contents. The pastry was brown and crisp, the gravy oozing through the sides. He ate it almost as quickly as his dog; Jim and Nelson did likewise. Wiping the last of the gravy from his chin he belched contentedly. ‘That’s better – me belly thought me throat’d been cut. Bleedin’ hell! Where did that come from?’
‘Lucy give it him. He’ll have a job carrying that, I reckon.’ Jim went to push the massive bone with his toe, but a warning growl made him step back. Buster, having torn off a few choice morsels, picked it up and headed for the door. Alfie grinned. His dog should have enough to eat for a couple of days.
‘Jim, can we get a wet at The Green Dragon, do you reckon?’
‘That we can, Alfie. Them pies only cost me half the tanner. I’ve still got thruppence to spend on some ale.’
Alfie followed his friends to the main street; soon they were threading their way through the press of people. He noticed they were given a wide berth. The sight of his dog carrying an ox’s thighbone in his jaws was enough to put anyone off. That and the smell, of course. They went through Bishopsgate coming to a cross-road.
Without being asked, he supplied the name of the street. ‘Wormwood Street. Ain’t we going down there?’
Jim laughed. ‘We don’t. It’s straight on, the fifth or sixth turning. You let us know when we get there; you can read the signs as good as any gent.’
At The Green Dragon there was the usual bustle of ostlers, horses, gigs and carts. Jim dodged across the cobbles and he followed behind. They didn’t go in the front door – hardly surprising really. He grinned. It took a bit of getting used to, belonging to a gang, having somewhere to go and someone to go with.
‘Here, Alfie, Ginger’s in the snug.’
Without being told Alfie instructed his dog to remain outside with his stinking bone. A couple of mangy tykes had tagged along, attracted by the smell, but as they turned into the yard none of them was brave enough to approach and try to remove his prize.
Jim vanished into a side door; even though it was sunny it was dark in the passageway. The tang of tallow candles, sweat and tobacco, filled his nose. Alfie hesitated, the smell reminding him of that dreadful night when the bastard Bentley had sold him to Black Ben. He reckoned he’d never be comfortable in a place that smelt that way.
Someone tugged his sleeve. ‘You all right, Alfie? That meat pie not agree with you?’
Alfie recovered. ‘No, I’m right as ninepence, Jim. Where’s Ginger?’
The leader of the gang stood up, his head just showing behind a high-backed wooden bench. ‘I’m here, Alfie. You took yer time; come round and meet a good friend of ours: Silas Field.’
Alfie stepped round to greet the man who bought the stolen goods from the gang. The cove staring morosely into his tankard was not what he’d expected. He reminded him of his stepfather. He was well dressed compared to those around him, certainly clean, his chin scraped free of bristles, his hair trimmed and washed. In fact he looked like a prosperous gent.
‘This here’s your porter, Alfie. Sit yourself down. Silas wants to talk to you.’
‘I could do with a drink, Ginger, ta very much.’ Alfie squeezed onto the bench seat opposite the gent, draining his tankard in one. That meat pie had given him a real thirst. He replaced the empty pot with a sigh of contentment. Raising his eyes it was to find the man opposite staring right at him. His stomach lurched; the hair on the back of his neck stood up. This man might look normal on the outside but he were different all right. Alfie knew he’d met someone more evil than Black Ben or Captain Bentley.
‘So this is Alfie – a real toff you’ve got here, Ginger. An educated gent you say?’
Alfie’s tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth. He was too terrified to do more than nod. The man pushed over a folded newspaper. ‘What’s this say then?’
He didn’t think he’d be able to force his mind to work, let alone read out loud what he saw in front of him. He looked at the paper. It was a jumble of black print; it made no sense to him. He could feel the man’s eyes boring into the top of his head. He couldn’t fail. He couldn’t let them down; he’d got to try.
He closed his eyes and breathed deeply through his nose, a trick he’d mastered in the hold of the coal lighter when the air was so thick with dust he thought his head would explode. He stared at the paper. It was upside down. No wonder it made no sense. Pleased his hands weren’t trembling, he spun the paper round and opened it so he could read the headline. He reckoned he could read this well enough. He began nervously but gained confidence as his skill returned.
He closed it and shoved it back across the table. Jim sighed and the atmosphere around the table improved. He’d passed the test.
‘You ain’t let me down, Ginger. This Alfie’s a treasure. Look after him; you and the boys keep him and his dog out of sight until we need him. Don’t want the law getting a shifty.’
Alfie glanced at Ginger and he winked. Suddenly Silas didn’t seem so threatening. ‘Is there anything else you want me to read for you, mister?’
A darkness flashed in the man’s eyes, a reminder that he was a bloke to be respected, not someone to trifle with. Silas opened his jacket and reached into an inside pocket. He pulled out a poster and handed it to Alfie.
‘Lay it on the table, Alfie. Let’s all have a look at it too.’ Ginger scowled at Nelson for daring to interrupt. The boy shrank back on to the bench.
The bill was announcing the opening of a railway station. There was the date, the time, the place, and a list of the dignitaries who would be attending. There was to be a civic reception and fireworks afterwards. A brass band was to entertain the crowd.
‘Cor! That sounds grand. We going to go there, Ginger, or what?’
‘I reckon we will, Jim, but it ain’t for a few weeks yet. I’ll need to think this one out. We’ll not be the only ones on the lookout for rich pickings.’ Ginger grinned at Alfie. ‘We need you for the big events, and your dog will come in handy too. You can be our bagman. No bugger’s going to take anything off of you, not with that big bastard at your side.’
Alfie folded the paper and pushed it back. He glanced across the table. The boys nodded encouragingly. His position was secure, at least for the moment.
‘Sounds a bit of all right, that opening. I ain’t seen fireworks that often, not partial to them meself and I don’t reckon Buster will take kindly to them neither.’
‘You’ll not be around when they go off, not if you’ve got any sense. I thank you, boy. I knew this bill was about something important. Ginger, remember what I told you: concentrate on the good stuff. I want quality, not quantity, in future.’ Mr Field drained his tankard and stood up.
Immediately Ginger shuffled sideways, knocking Jim to the floor. The man walked off without another word.
‘Right, Jim, take Nelson and get off to work. Still got to earn a few bob to pay for our supper.’
‘Right ho, Ginger. You walking back with Alfie and Buster then? Where’s Piper this afternoon?’
‘He’s about me business. He’ll be back soon enough. Come along, Alfie, I got to talk to you. A deal of planning has to be done before the auction. By the time it’s the opening of the railway station in September we’ve got to have it right. We’re going up in the world, and it’s all because of you.’
Alfie followed him outside. The light blinded him for a moment and he stumbled over the step. This gave him a valuable moment to think about what had just happened. If he stayed with Ginger and the boys, he would be as much part of the gang as the others. He’d be so far outside the law he’d never be welcomed back in Colchester by either Sarah or his ma.
‘Where’s the dog, Alfie? We want to keep him sweet. You two are the best thing what’s happened to us.’
Alfie blinked and looked around. Where was Buster? Then he spotted him lying under a diligence, gnawing contentedly at his bone. Ginger called, but the dog ignored him. Alfie was glad; as long as the dog only obeyed him, his position in the group was secure.
He’d worked out him being able to read was useful, but it weren’t the reason they’d been made so welcome. It was Buster they needed, not him. The dog offered them protection from other gangs, would allow them to keep whatever they stole. His suspicions were confirmed as they strolled back to Half Moon Street.
‘Well, Alfie, it’s like this. When we’re working we’ll pass the stuff back to you; you stash it and keep the dog close by. No one is going to nick from you, not with Buster around. All you’ve got to do is keep an eye out for the law. I don’t reckon even those bastards will come near when he’s roused.’
‘I’m not sure about this, Ginger. Remember, I told you I ain’t going to thieve. If I become the bagman, I’m one of you. I could be transported if I’m caught.’
‘Don’t fret about it, Alfie. When I’ve explained it all to you, the advantages and such, I reckon you’ll be happy to go along with us. When you go back to this Colchester place you’ll want to have money in your pocket, won’t you? Anyway, what’s the hurry? You got a sweetheart there?’
Alfie laughed. ‘When I took off I weren’t interested in females. Mind you, I wouldn’t say no to a bit of slap and tickle nowadays.’
Ginger looked at him closely. ‘I reckon you’re right. How old are you? You’ve got bristles coming on your lip, what’s more than what I have.’
‘I’ll be fourteen in October, old enough to get married if I wanted. I reckon that girl in the pie shop was a bit of all right.’
‘Lucy? I reckon she wouldn’t say no to a gent like you, that’s for sure.’
Buster trotted just ahead of them, the pavement clearing at his approach. The reek of the bone, combined with his growls if anyone looked in his direction, did the trick. They crossed Wormwood Street before Alfie had made up his mind.
‘Oi, Ginger, I’ve got a proposition for you.’