A Daughter’s Sorrow

‘What happened?’ he asked, looking at me in concern. ‘You’ve got mud on your dress – there’s blood in your hair …’

‘I’ll wash it out when I—’

The door from the kitchen opened and I heard my mother shout, ‘If that’s you, Bridget, you’d better get in here before I lay me hand round your ears. I hope you’re not after bringing that slut of a sister back with you …’

Mam came out into the hallway. She was a big-boned woman with a mottled complexion and dark hair streaked with grey dragged back into a bun at the nape of her neck. Her mouth was set in a grim line, her eyes cold with anger as she stared at me.

‘Bridget has had an accident,’ John Phillips said, standing in front of me as though prepared to defend me from her temper. He gave me a warning look and I took my cue from him.

‘I slipped and fell in the mud in the lane, Mam – must have banged my head. Leastwise, it’s bleeding.’

‘Perhaps I should take a look at it,’ Mr Phillips offered. ‘Come into the kitchen, Bridget.’

I followed as he went through the parlour to the back kitchen. The parlour itself was furnished better than most in the lane, with a half-decent sofa and two chairs, a table with ends that folded down, four chairs to match it, an oak dresser with a mirror and shelves for a few bits and pieces of china and glass fairings.

Mam lunged at me as we passed, giving me a slap on the ear that nearly sent me flying. I gave a yelp of pain and the lodger turned to look at her reprovingly.

‘Mrs O’Rourke! Surely such violence isn’t necessary? The girl has already had a nasty accident.’

‘You keep your nose out of it,’ Mam retorted, forgetting to be polite to him in her temper. ‘She’s a slut and needs to be taught a lesson or she’ll bring shame on us for sure. You ought to watch out, my girl. If your father were here he’d take his belt to you.’

‘I’ve done nothing wrong, Mam. I had to go after Lainie, you know I did. I tried to get her to come home, but she wouldn’t.’

Mam hit me again, making my head rock.

‘That’s enough, Mrs O’Rourke. I’ve told you before the girls will leave home if you continue to hit them like that. If you are trying to drive her on to the streets you are making an excellent job of it.’

‘He’s right, Mam. Lainie’s gone and she says she won’t come back – and if it weren’t for our Tommy I’d go with her.’

‘And where will you be going? No decent woman will take you into her home at this hour of the night. It’s after pickin’ up a man you’ll be. You’ll bide here and do as I tell you or you’ll feel the back of my hand and harder than you’ve felt it before, my girl.’

‘Bridie Macpherson will have me,’ I said, my voice rising with anger now. ‘She’s always looking for girls to help out in that hotel of hers. That’s where Lainie’s gone and if you hit me again I’ll go with her!’

My threat was not an idle one. Bridie Macpherson’s small but scrupulously clean hotel was only three streets away from Farthing Lane. It was patronized by the captains and first officers who preferred somewhere better to stay than the Seamen’s Mission, or the special hostel for foreign sailors. Jamie had told us the mission had been set up some forty years earlier, to protect the Lascars from being preyed on by river thieves. Before the hostels were built, they had often ended up penniless after being cheated or robbed of their pay by the rogues who lived in the dirty alleyways close to the docks.

Until now, both Lainie and I had worked in the brewery, which was just across the river from St Katherine’s.

St Katherine’s Dock was originally built on twenty-three acres between the Tower of London and the London Docks, making it conveniently near the city. The site had been home to more than a thousand families, a brewery and at one time St Katherine’s hospital, which had always been owned by royalty. Its land had been cleared though, despite the hardship it caused, and the docks given a grand opening in 1828. Commodities such as tallow, rubber, sugar and tea had all been stored in the sturdy yellow-brick warehouses some six storeys high, but for some reason the docks were not a financial success and had become part of the London Docks in 1864. However, to the people of the lanes, especially those that worked there, they would always be known as St Katherine’s.

There had been breweries near the river since the time of Queen Elizabeth when they supplied beer to the soldiers in the Low Countries, but Dawson’s, where Lainie and I worked, had only been built in the last five years, and produced ginger beer as well as three kinds of ale.

Lainie worked in the brewing side, but I had recently been taken on in the office. Before that, I’d had occasional work down the market, helping Maisie Collins with her flower stall, and giving Mam a hand with work in the house. Being in the office at the brewery was much better. At the moment I made the tea, tidied up and ran errands for three shillings a week, but I was learning to help keep the ledgers because I could copy letters in a neat hand and I was quick at figures. Mr Dawson had promised me another two shillings a week soon.

I brought my thoughts back to the present as Mam started on at me again. ‘Walk out of this house and you don’t come back! I’ll not have a slut livin’ under my roof. You’ll mend your ways or I’ll see the back of you.’

‘Now that’s foolish talk,’ Mr Phillips said. ‘Bridget has always been a good girl, Mrs O’Rourke. You would find it hard to manage the house without her.’

Mam’s face screwed up and I thought she was about to explode, but although she opened her mouth to tell him to mind his own business, she shut it again.

‘Get to bed before I change me mind,’ she said and scowled at me. ‘You can think yourself lucky that Mr Phillips spoke up for you. If I had my way I’d give you a good thrashing!’

I turned and fled towards the stairs, not stopping until I was in my own room.

Tommy sat up and looked at me. ‘Where’s our Lainie?’ he asked sleepily, clenched fists rubbing at his eyes.

‘She’s gone out to see a friend,’ I said and hushed him with a kiss on the top of his head. He smelled so good after I’d had him in the bath and scrubbed his hair with strong soap – the same as I used to scrub the house. Tommy hated it, but he hated the nits worse and I made sure he went to bed clean – even if he came back filthy every night. ‘Go back to sleep, darlin’.’

I held my brother closer, feeling protective towards him as I felt how thin and frail he was. There was no way I could ever walk out on him because he wouldn’t stand a chance left alone with Mam.

‘What happened to you, Bridget?’ Tommy touched my cheek and found a smear of blood. ‘Are you hurt?’ He looked anxious, as if afraid that I might suddenly disappear too.

I glanced down at myself, repressing the shiver that ran through me as his words reminded me of what had almost happened. Rape was something all decent girls lived in fear of, which was why we took notice of our mothers and didn’t go walking alone at night.

‘It’s nothing, darlin’ – just a tumble on some mud in the lane. You know how dirty it gets at this time of year. It was probably a bit icy, it’s freezin’ out so it is. I fell and banged my head. It knocked me out for a moment, but I’m all right.’

‘Let me look.’ Tommy scrambled out of bed.

‘Can you see anything?’

‘It’s cut open. Shall I bathe it for you, our Bridget?’

‘Will you, darlin’?’ I caught his hand as I saw the troubled look in his eyes. ‘Don’t look so worried, it’s nothing much. I might have a bit of a headache, but I’m all right.’

I poured some water into the earthenware bowl from the washstand and sat on the bed for Tommy to bathe the cut on my head. He was as careful as he could be, but it stung and I winced a couple of times.

‘I’m sorry, Bridget.’

‘It’s all right, Tommy. Let’s get to bed, darlin’, or you’ll be too tired for school in the morning.’

We got into bed together, me holding him as he settled to sleep. I wished I could sleep as easily and I fought desperately to stop myself thinking about Harry Wright and what he had almost done to me. I knew Jamie would have gone after him if I’d told him, and he had such a temper there was no telling what he might do.

It was quiet down in the kitchen now. Mam would be having a drop of the good stuff with her lodger before they came up – to separate rooms. Mam had made it plain to her lodger there was to be no funny stuff. She slept with Tommy as a rule and Mr Phillips had the room that had been Jamie’s and Tommy’s before Da disappeared. If Jamie came home at all, he would sleep on the couch, but most nights he stayed with a friend, leastwise that’s what he told Mam. I had heard stories that would make Martha O’Rourke’s hair curl, but I kept them to myself. There was enough trouble in the house as it was without stirring up more. Still, now that Lainie had gone perhaps things would settle down for a while …

As I lay sleepless beside my brother, I wondered what had happened to turn Martha O’Rourke into the hard cold woman she was. Had it happened when her husband had killed a man in a violent fight on the docks?

I knew Mam’s life had been hard these past years, but that didn’t account for her violent rages. Some of our neighbours had it even harder than us – though we were going to miss Lainie’s money. But there was real hatred in Martha O’Rourke.

Lainie was right when she said that Mam had always hated her. She’d never been as bad with me as she was with Lainie but that might change now I was the only daughter at home.

I shivered and snuggled into the warmth of my sleeping brother’s body. There wasn’t much point in worrying over something I couldn’t change. I’d had a lucky escape thanks to Joe Robinson and I would take good care not to give Harry Wright another chance to attack me.

Sighing, I closed my eyes and willed myself to sleep. It would soon be morning and I had to be up early.

Two (#ua6a5f0f3-8d21-59c9-8916-5173fed1464e)

Mam looked heavy-eyed when she came down the next morning. She had slept late and I’d already scrubbed the front step and given Tommy his slice of bread and dripping. He hadn’t wanted it, complaining that it made him feel sick, but I’d coaxed him into eating it.

‘Have you done them stairs yet, you lazy little cat? You can tell that boss o’ yours this mornin’ that I want you setting on in the works. You’ll earn more there than in that fancy office.’