As afternoon faded into evening Jack propped open the doors, front and back, with cast iron doorstops shaped like barrels. Slowly, the smoke from clay pipes smoked by both men and women drifted lazily outside, and much needed fresher air took its place.
The sound of a trumpet heralded the rag and bone man’s passing and Jack heard the screech of the tram wheels as it drew to a halt. In a matter of moments people scrambled from the tram and pushed their way through the open door.
Standing three deep at the bar, folk yelled to be served, desperate for their tot of gin as though afraid the place might suddenly run dry. The noise was deafening as Jack hurried to attend to waiting customers and he had only a second to glance at Poppy. Laughing as always, the girl was working flat out but was still having a hard time keeping up with demand.
As he moved along the line of waiting men Jack knew it was time to approach his mother about hiring some more help. He sighed, knowing she would balk at having to pay a wage but the three of them couldn’t cope any longer. They were all exhausted; the long hours and very little sleep had begun to take its toll on them.
Nellie arrived in the bar to be greeted by a cheer from the crowd and she gave them a wide smile and a wave as if she was the queen.
Lowering the chandelier by way of a rope attached to the wall, Nellie lit the gas lights before hauling it back towards the ceiling and tying it off securely. Lighting the wall lights too, she passed a word or two with her regular customers before taking her place behind the bar. Hooking a thumb to Jack, she dismissed him from his work there; his job in the cellar, however, began yet again.
Sitting on a three-legged stool and filling bottles with diluted gin, Jack longed for the day he would be old enough to leave this place. He yearned to be out in the sunshine, on a farm maybe. Here he felt trapped, suffocated – rarely seeing the seasons change or the goings-on in the outside world.
Once finished, he went out into the back yard for a breath of evening air. Standing on the doorstep, he leaned against its jamb and watched the light give way to darkness which gradually surrounded him.
It was as he turned to go back indoors that he heard a sound which, if he was not mistaken, sounded like a sob. Leaning casually against the frame once more, he waited. Sure enough, a moment later Jack heard the sound again. It was definitely a sob – someone was in the yard and they were crying.
Tentatively, Jack stepped forward to search between the empty casks awaiting collection. Following the sounds, he eventually came upon a young girl hiding between two massive barrels.
Seeing Jack, she tried to push herself further back into the shadows but was caught against the wall which surrounded the yard.
Frightened eyes looked up at him and Jack’s heart melted. ‘It’s all right, I ain’t going to hurt you.’ Whispering so as not to scare the girl any more than she was already, Jack hunkered down beside her. ‘My name’s Jack and I live here. What’s your name?’
The child began to shake but whether with fear or cold Jack wasn’t sure.
‘Are you cold? You can borrow my jacket if you like,’ he said as he made to take off the garment.
The girl tried to scramble away from him and her sobs rang loud in the darkness.
‘Hey, it’s all right, gel, I promise I won’t hurt you. Just tell me yer name then at least we’ll be introduced. Once that’s sorted out maybe we can become friends.’ Speaking quietly Jack sat on the cold cobblestones and leaned his back against the wall.
Jack winced as Nellie Larkin screamed out his name.
‘That’s me mother. Blimey, she’s got a voice like a glede under a door!’ In the dim light from the saloon doorway he saw a smile creep across the girl’s face and he went on in a mimicking tone. ‘Jack, fill the bottles! Jack, roll them barrels! Jack, do this – do that!’ He heard the girl chuckle quietly and swiftly moved on. ‘This place belongs to her – my mother – the one with a gob the size of England.’ Another giggle and Jack felt he was making headway. ‘So, are you going to tell me yer name?’
‘Dolly – everybody calls me Dolly Daydream,’ came the timid reply.
‘Oh, ain’t that nice? I like it – how do you feel about it?’ Jack asked.
‘I don’t mind it.’
‘What’s yer other name?’ Jack probed.
‘Perkins.’
‘Well, Dolly Perkins, what brings you here to The Crown Saloon?’ Hoping he was not pushing too hard, Jack kept his eyes on the doorway.
‘I… my…’ Unable to find the words, Dolly burst into tears.
‘Oh crikey, now look what I’ve gone and done. I d’aint mean to upset you. It don’t matter – just dry your eyes.’ Jack passed over a handkerchief which was none too clean.
‘There, that’s better. Now then, what I need to know is – will anybody be missing you? Cos if not, you’d best come inside with me and have a bite of supper.’
Dolly shook her head. ‘I have no family any more.’
Hearing another sob, Jack decided not to probe further despite wanting to know more about the girl. He wondered what had happened to her family, and why she was hiding here in their yard. Risking a quick glance, he noticed she was very thin; how long had it been since she had last eaten? Rather than pry too deeply at this juncture, Jack said quietly, ‘I’m sorry to hear it, Dolly. In that case maybe you should come in and meet everybody. Firstly, there’s me – Jack Larkin – and Nellie, my mother. Then there’s Poppy Charlton the barmaid – oh and Nancy Sampson our cook.’
‘What about your mum? What will she say about me coming in?’ Dolly asked tentatively.
‘Well, she’ll probably say – “Jack, what’re you bloody thinking bringing me another sodding mouth to feed? Don’t I pay out enough already? What can she do to earn her keep?”’
Dolly giggled, then said, ‘She’d be right though, Jack.’
‘So, what’s the alternative – leave you out here to starve? I don’t think so. It ain’t my way, Dolly, to ignore somebody in need if I can help. That being said, get yer bottom off that cold floor and come inside with me,’ Jack grinned as he got to his feet and stuck out his hand.
Dolly grasped the lifeline held out to her and smoothed down her dirty dress. Grasping a walking stick she looked at Jack for his reaction to her being a cripple.
A single nod and a smile from the boy who had rescued her told Dolly all she needed to know. Having a crippled leg would make no difference to Jack.
In the warm kitchen, Jack introduced Dolly to their cook. Mrs Sampson was a big lady with a mouth like a navvy. Her arms had defined muscles from years of lifting huge heavy pans. Grey hair stuck out in all directions from beneath a mob cap and pale blue eyes gave the girl the once-over.
What she saw was a stick-thin child of no more than thirteen years old leaning on a walking cane. A simple cotton dress, dirty and tattered, hung on her tiny frame, its hem at knee length showing her withered left leg. Her boots were almost useless, the uppers and soles held together by string wrapped around the whole foot. The girl’s dark hair was matted and would no doubt be alive with lice but her brown eyes were glistening like molten chocolate. Dolly also had the most infectious grin showing surprisingly clean teeth.
‘Right, put yer skinny arse on that chair and get this down yer neck!’ Nancy Sampson said as she placed a steaming bowl of mutton stew on the table.
‘Thank you, Mrs Sampson, but I don’t have any money,’ Dolly said as she stood quite still.
Nancy harrumphed then the tirade began. ‘Money! Did I ask for payment? No, I bloody didn’t! Talk about ungrateful…’ The cook ambled away still muttering and came back with a bowl of stew for Jack. ‘Sit, the pair o’ you before I take that sodding cane to yer backs! And I want to see them bowls empty!’ Slicing fresh bread, she slapped a chunk next to each bowl before wandering away to make tea.
Dolly and Jack grinned at each other before tucking into their delicious meals. They chuckled as every now and then another expletive would escape the lips of the cook.
‘Jack!’ Nellie’s voice came again.
‘He’s having his bloody tea, Nellie! Fer God’s sake give the lad a break – poor little bugger is worn to a frazzle!’ Nancy Sampson yelled back and then continued her mumbling as she pottered about the huge kitchen.
The two youngsters giggled, then Jack whispered, ‘It’s always like this. Nancy and me mother shouting and swearing but they’m great friends really.’
Dolly nodded and laid her spoon in her empty dish. ‘Thank you, Mrs Sampson, that was lovely.’
‘Good. Glad you liked it cos there’s a bloody great pan full there and you’ve got to ’ave some more!’
Dolly nodded, her pursed lips holding back a laugh. Finally, their hunger sated, the children sat with a cup of tea and listened to the shouting match between Nellie and Nancy as the former called for help and the latter told her friend to go jump in the canal.
Suddenly Nellie was in the doorway, her hands on her hips. ‘Jack – come on!’ Then her eyes locked on young Dolly. ‘What the…? Who’s this?’
‘Mum, her name is Dolly and I found her in the back yard,’ Jack explained.
‘Found her, did you? Well you can damn well un-find her! I can’t take in every waif off the street!’ Nellie yelled.
Jack glanced at the young girl saying, ‘I told you.’
‘What? What did you tell her?’ Nellie enquired, directing her gaze back to her son.
‘Look, Mum, Dolly ain’t got any family and she was starving—’ Jack proceeded to explain.
‘Jack, it doesn’t matter. I’ll be on my way.’ Dolly turned to the cook. ‘Mrs Sampson, thank you for the delicious supper, I’m very grateful.’ Again, to Jack, she went on, ‘Maybe we’ll meet again, Jack Larkin, I thank you for your kindness.’ Grabbing her cane, Dolly limped towards the back door.
‘Mum! You can’t turn her out!’ Jack protested as he jumped from his seat.
With an explosive sigh, Nellie relented as she heard the calls from the bar. Poppy was run off her feet and desperately needing help. ‘All right! Dolly, if I take you in – and I ain’t saying I will – but if I do, you would have to share a room with Poppy. As for work, you could fill the bottles and Jack would fetch them up from the cellar. I wouldn’t be paying you a wage, but bed and board would be in.’
‘Oh, thank you, Mrs Larkin!’ Dolly said on a grateful breath.
‘Don’t be getting your hopes up yet, young lady, I’ll want to know much more about you before you get to live in this house.’
‘Nellie!’ Poppy’s voice filtered through to the kitchen.
‘I’m coming!’ Nellie yelled back as she grabbed Jack’s arm, ‘and so are you, young man. Dolly, you can help Nancy in the kitchen for now.’
Dolly exchanged a grin with Jack as he was hauled away to the bar, and she felt blessed to have met him.
After her mother’s passing, her step-father had voiced the notion of Dolly taking her place both in the home and in his bed. It was the day of the funeral, following the interment, that Dolly had run away. That had been three months ago and she had scavenged to survive ever since.
Now her luck had turned and Dolly Perkins felt safe for the first time in a long while. The family who might take her in off the street were a little rough around the edges but they appeared honest and hard-working. She felt sure she could fit in well once she came to terms with all the bad language. She smiled as she recalled her mother telling her it was a trait of Black Country women to cuss constantly. Dolly didn’t care, for she would be eternally grateful to these warm-hearted people for saving her from the workhouse, should she be allowed to join their coterie, of course.
Leaning her cane against the sink, Dolly set to washing the dishes, humming a little tune as she did so.
Nancy Sampson watched and thought to herself, ‘Poor little wench. She ain’t got anything but a gammy leg and yet she’s happy to wash dishes. God bless her!’
‘Thank you, Dolly, that’s saved me a job I hate,’ Nancy said, ‘now come and sit down and tell me all about yerself.’
Plonking herself on a kitchen chair, Dolly related how she’d come to be in the yard of The Crown Saloon.