Gaslight In Page Street Part 11

The tea party finally broke up, and while Nellie turned her attention to the empty teacups, Maisie left to do the huge pile of washing and ironing she had taken in and Aggie hurried home to put the duster over her spotless front parlour. Florrie meanwhile went away eagerly looking forward to starting on her list for the beano.

Carrie Tanner was looking forward to her eighteenth birthday, aware of the feelings stirring inside her. Often when she met Billy Sullivan on the street her stomach churned and she felt her breath coming fast as he stopped to talk, but there were times when she felt uncomfortable and miserable and was uneasy about seeing him. From listening to the other girls at the factory talking about the monthly curse she knew that they had similar feelings. She had also heard from listening to the older women that babies were made at certain times of the month and there were times when it was more likely to happen than not. The information she gleaned had left Carrie feeling confused. She had been experiencing her menses for some years now and knew what to do about them, but she had not been able to bring herself to ask her mother about how to avoid becoming pregnant.

It was lunch time and Wilson's workers were sitting in the ground-floor room eating their sandwiches when the subject of babies came up again. Freda Lawton was talking about the time she got pregnant.

'I went ter see this ole woman,' she was saying. 'The bloke what got me pregnant told me about 'er an' 'e reckoned she could get rid of it. I was only about two months gorn when I went ter see 'er an' I tell yer, the 'ouse stunk ter 'igh 'eaven. She was a scruffy ole cow wiv long straggly 'air. She looked like an ole witch. Anyway she give me this stuff ter drink. It tasted so 'orrible I was nearly sick right there an' then. She told me ter go 'ome an' 'ave a good soak in the tub. Trouble was, when I got 'ome me muvver was boilin' the clothes in the copper so I 'ad ter put the stew-pot on the fire. It took b.l.o.o.d.y ages an' before I 'ad enough water fer the tin barf I was sick. Me stomach was burnin' an' me muvver called the doctor in. 'E reckoned I'd bin poisoned. Anyway it never stopped me 'avin' me baby.'

Jessica shook her head. 'Some o' those people who get rid o' babies ought ter be locked up,' she scowled. 'There was this gel in Bacon Street Buildin's who got 'erself pregnant an' she went ter this place in Bermondsey Lane. This woman give 'er somefink ter drink, then she put this long knittin'-needle inside 'er. Nearly killed the poor cow she did. They couldn't stop the bleedin' an' she was carted orf ter Guy's. If I ever got pregnant wivout bein' married, Gawd ferbid, I'd sooner bear the shame than get rid of it.'

Freda nodded in agreement. 'Us workin' gels ain't got much of a life when yer come ter fink of it. We go ter work till we find a bloke an' get married, an' then we're pregnant in no time. Some are lucky an' don't 'ave many kids but ovvers 'ave one every year. The woman what delivered my baby was tellin' me about this young gel what kept gettin' pregnant. Ten kids she 'ad by the time she was twenty-seven. The woman told me she delivered every one, an' she told me that when she went ter the first confinement the gel didn't know a fing about 'ow babies get born. She even asked 'er 'ow the baby was gonna get out.'

Carrie had been listening intently to the conversation and she remembered some of the things she had heard said about birth control and limiting the amount of children in families. One of the women speakers at the suffragette meetings had mentioned setting up clinics for pregnant women and giving women more information about how to prevent unwanted babies. Carrie found herself becoming more and more confused as she listened to her friends. For some time now she had been thinking about what would happen if she walked out with Billy Sullivan and he tried to make love to her. What would he do if she said no?

'Would you let a boy 'ave 'is way wiv yer before yer got married, Carrie?' Jessica asked suddenly, interrupting her troubled thoughts.

Carrie shook her head. 'I couldn't. I'd be too frightened in case I fell fer a baby. What about you, Jess, would yer let a boy make love wiv you?'

'No fear,' Jessica replied quickly. 'If I got meself pregnant me farvver would chuck me out, I know 'e would.'

Freda smiled cynically. 'I remember sayin' that once, but I still got put in the pudden club. We're all the same. We say one fing an' mean anuvver. Take me. I was sure I wouldn't let a bloke take advantage o' me but I was wrong. I went out wiv this good-lookin' bloke an' I was feelin' good at the time an' 'e was very gentle. I remember it well. We was in the park an' 'e was gettin' 'andy. I told 'im ter stop it but 'e knew I didn't really want 'im to. Funny fing was, when we got around ter doin' it, I remember feelin' disappointed. It wasn't as good as I expected. I never went out wiv 'im after that one night, and as soon as 'e 'eard I was fallen 'e was off ter sea!'

'S'posin' yer liked a feller,' Carrie said to Freda, 'really liked 'im a lot an' 'e asked yer ter walk out wiv im? Would yer let 'im 'ave 'is way in case 'e never asked yer out again?'

Freda shook her head. 'I don't know, Carrie,' she answered. 'It all depends on 'ow yer feel at the time. Sometimes yer can say no an' mean it, an' ovver times yer tingle all over an' yer feel like yer on fire. All I know is, if yer do manage ter say no an' the bloke don't ask yer out anymore, yer ain't missin' much. Any bloke who finks that way ain't werf 'avin' in the first place.'

The whistle sounded and as they all trooped back to their work benches, Carrie found herself feeling more confused than ever.

Jack Oxford was feeling very pleased with himself as he trudged through the foggy February evening to Abbey Street. Ever since his accident he had moved from place to place, sleeping in doss-houses and on park benches during the summer, but now he had found himself a regular place to stay. He had always thought himself fortunate in having a steady job which at least allowed him to have a full belly, but how much nicer it was now to go into a warm house and sit down to a hot meal beside a roaring fire. Now there was no more worrying about getting his boots stolen or his pockets picked while he slept. Now he could go to bed between clean sheets and get a wash and shave without having to wait his turn to use the grimy stone sinks in the doss-house.

Jack had been very lucky to find Mrs Cuthbertson. She was a big, motherly woman with red hair and a wide smile whose wayward husband had suddenly left her for a younger and prettier woman. After a few weeks of dejection and loneliness Amy Cuthbertson had quickly pulled herself together. She had a large house in Abbey Street which she had inherited, and a little money put aside. She also had a shrewd mind and realised that there was money to be made by taking in working men as lodgers. Amy's one failing was her weakness for stout, and when she was suitably fortified with a few bottles of the dark brew she became very pa.s.sionate. More than one lodger had left her house due to her excessive demands upon him, and after each rejection she grew more determined than ever to find someone who would give her a little loving as well as the weekly rent. Amy had a strong streak of compa.s.sion in her make-up, and when Jack Oxford appeared on the scene it served him just a little too well.

There were three other lodgers in the house before Jack arrived but they were younger men who had come over from Ireland to work on building the railways and they usually kept themselves aloof from Amy. She liked older men, and when she spotted the yard man sitting mournfully on a park bench in Bermondsey Church Gardens one evening with a bottle of ale for comfort she was intrigued. The man looked as though he was earning a living by the state of his boots, and his sorrowful look prompted her to approach him. When she enquired casually about his general health and well-being Jack told her his past life history, his current position, and his intention of doing away with himself if things did not look up.

Amy had heard enough. She suggested to him that he might lodge in her house. That evening the yard man went to inspect his prospective room in Abbey Street and gave her one week's rent there and then. As the days pa.s.sed Amy Cuthbertson became more and more kindly disposed towards her lodger, and one evening she plied him with stout and took the startled inebriate to her bed.

The new arrangement suited Jack Oxford admirably, and Amy too.

As he walked home through the fog along Abbey Street, Jack whistled to himself. The house was warm as he let himself in and he could smell mutton stew cooking.

'I'm in the scullery, deary. Tea's nearly ready,' Amy called out.

Jack ambled into the front room and flopped down in an armchair with a blissful sigh. He just could not believe how lucky he was.

Across the street Arthur Cuthbertson shifted his position in the shop doorway and scowled as he stared over at the house. Some of the people in the neighbourhood were still friendly with Arthur, and from what one of them had told him he had good reason to worry. Amy had found herself a bloke and they appeared to be very happy, he had been informed. Since his new lady friend had walked out on him, Arthur had realised he made a mistake in leaving Amy. He had been intending to go back to her cap in hand, hoping for a reconciliation, but this seemed unlikely now that she had found herself a new man. Well, there was only one thing to do, he decided. Amy's lodger would have to be frightened off if there was to be any chance of getting back with her. He would give them time to have their tea and then he would make an appearance, he told himself, fingering the piece of lead piping which was tucked into his wide leather belt.

After he had finished his meal Jack settled himself beside the fire and rested his feet on the bra.s.s fender. He sighed contentedly as he leaned back and closed his eyes, not taking any notice as Amy got up to answer the loud knock.

Her scream brought him upright in his chair, and as the bulky figure of Arthur pushed his way into the room brandishing a length of lead piping in his large fist Jack knew instantly that he was in serious trouble.

'So you're the wh.o.r.eson who's took 'er from me, are yer?' Arthur growled at him, moving around the table to get at him.

'I ain't done nuffink,' Jack cried, trying to keep the table between him and his a.s.sailant.

'If I get 'old o' yer I'll maim yer, yer dirty ole goat!' Arthur yelled.

Amy was trying to hold her estranged husband back, with little success. 'Leave 'im alone, yer cowson!' she screamed. 'Yer p.i.s.sed orf an' left me fer yer fancy bit an' now yer want me back. Well, I ain't takin' yer back, yer scruffy git. Go on, get out!'

Amy's outburst only made Arthur more incensed and he brought the lead pipe down on the table with a loud crash. 'Keep still, yer dopey b.a.s.t.a.r.d!' he roared at Jack. 'Let me get at yer! I'll do fer yer, I swear I will!'

With Amy holding on to Arthur's arm, the terrified yard man saw his chance to escape. He made a sudden dash for the front door and stumbled out into the foggy street. By the time Arthur had freed his arm Jack was halfway along Abbey Street, looking over his shoulder fearfully as he hurried along, his stockinged feet pattering over the wet cobbles.

Jack Oxford's cosy evenings had been terminated by the sudden appearance of Amy's wayward husband, and as he leaned against a gaslamp to catch his breath he pondered over what he should do next. It was no night to be sleeping rough, he thought with a shudder, and it was unlikely he would be able to get a bed at a doss-house now. There was only one thing to do, he decided. It would have to be the Druid Street arches.

Jack hobbled on along Abbey Street and turned into Druid Street. The fog was getting thicker now and he cursed his luck as he slipped into a narrow alley and then shuffled over rotting garbage and rubbish. He could see the glow of a fire ahead and then the huddled figures sitting around it. 'Any chance of a warm?' he asked timorously as he reached the group.

'Why if it ain't ole Jack Oxford,' one of the men said, grinning widely as he saw Jack's stockinged feet. 'Sit yerself down, mate. Wanna drop o' soup? It's bacon bones an' 'tater peelin's an there's a couple o' crusts left.'

Jack sat down on the plank of wood which served as a bench and rubbed his sore and frozen feet as he looked around at the four men. They were all familiar to him beneath their beards and unwashed faces. The man who had welcomed him handed over a tin of watery liquid and a stale crust of bread which Jack accepted gratefully. He had eaten his fill earlier but the cold had penetrated up from his feet. As he sipped the hot, greasy soup and chewed on the bread, he felt a little less sorry for himself.

'What 'appened ter yer boots, mate?' the man asked.

Jack felt a little embarra.s.sed about telling them the full story and shrugged his shoulders. 'They wore out,' he said simply.

The man facing him chuckled through his huge black beard. 'We're all wearing out, friend,' he said, poking a stick into the fire and putting it to his stained clay pipe. 'Trouble is, it's always the wrong way round. We wear out from the ground upwards. I've always said we should start the other way round.'

Jack's host nudged him with his elbow. 'Bernie's a clever old c.o.c.k. 'E used ter teach the kids at Webb Street ragged school, didn't yer, Bern?'

The bearded man stared into the fire not hearing, his pipe locked between thumb and forefinger. ''Twould be a mite more merciful that way,' he said quietly. 'When the mind goes, the rest doesn't matter. Just think, we could sit here in front of the fire in sublime ignorance. We would neither understand nor care about the circ.u.mstances of our plight. We'd all be happy souls, indeed we would.'

'Bernie lost 'is position at the school, didn't yer, Bern?' Jack's friend remarked.

'The great poets understood,' Bernie went on, ignoring the interruptions. 'Milton, Shakespeare and the like. They were all aware.'

Jack yawned. He did not understand what Bernie was saying but he was aware of one thing: he was not going to chance going back to Amy's house to collect his boots, not now that her maniac of a husband had returned. The bacon-bone and potato soup had warmed his insides and the heat of the fire felt pleasant on his aching feet. Maybe he should never have forsaken the doss-houses for Amy's place, he reflected. At least he could have protected his boots with the bedposts. Jack closed his eyes and soon sleep blotted out the circ.u.mstances of his plight.

At the Tanners' house William was lounging in his chair and Nellie was sitting facing him, busily darning a sock. 'Yer not goin' in the yard ternight, are yer, luv?' she asked.

William shook his head. 'There's no need,' he said. 'Everyfing's all right.'

Nellie got on with her darning and William closed his eyes. It was a habit he had adopted when he wanted to think. Nellie was always quick to notice when he was worried and by feigning sleep he could mull over his problems without being disturbed.

It was something Geoffrey had said that morning which was worrying him. 'I think the old man should seriously consider buying a couple of motor vans, Will,' he had remarked. 'Most of the carters are getting them. If we fall behind we're going to be left to pick up the work no one else wants, and at a lower price.'

William pondered his own position. He had worked with horses since he was a boy and had spent more than twenty-seven years with Galloway's. He knew nothing of motor transport, and if the horses went so would his job. George might let him stay on, but for what? Would he end up taking over Jack Oxford's job? Then there was the home the family lived in. What would happen if he was put out of work? Galloway would no doubt employ someone to look after the motor vans and might well offer that person their house as an inducement.

William's forehead wrinkled as he thought about his future and he shifted uneasily in the chair. Nellie had been looking at him for a while. She lowered her eyes again to her darning. She knew that when her husband slept, he snored. He was awake and there was something troubling him, she knew. Will was always loath to talk about his worries and had been that way ever since she had known him. How long was it now? she thought suddenly. Almost nineteen years since they had walked down the aisle at Bermondsey Church. Then Will had been a handsome young man with a proud swagger. He was a good man who had provided for her and the children and she had tried to make him happy during their years together.

She winced as she p.r.i.c.ked herself with the darning needle, and as she sucked on her finger wished there was a way to soothe her troubled thoughts. Unlike her husband, she was always ready to discuss and share her troubles. There was only one occasion when she had been unable to confide in him, and it had caused her so much pain and anguish ever since. But William would neither have understood nor forgiven her. She would never be able to unburden herself to him and the secret would have to remain locked inside her until the day she died.

The fog cleared by dawn and the morning sky was clear. By seven thirty all the horse carts had left but there was still no sign of Jack Oxford. At eight o'clock Florrie Axford was just about to whiten her front doorstep when she saw the yard man hobbling down Page Street with sacking wrapped around his feet. 'Gawd 'elp us, Jack!' she exclaimed. 'What yer done ter yer boots?'

He scowled at her. 'I lost 'em,' he replied quickly.

'Lost 'em? Did somebody nick 'em in the kip 'ouse?' she enquired.

The sorry-looking man nodded and hobbled on, leaving Florrie wondering who would be hard-up enough to bother taking Oxford's size thirteens.

Jack managed to slip into the yard without being spotted by anyone apart from Horace Gallagher, who was looking out of the office window as he hobbled in. The ageing accountant turned to William Tanner who was sitting at a desk going through the worksheets. 'Jack Oxford's just come in,' he said, a puzzled look on this thin face. 'He's got his feet wrapped up in sacking. I'm sure the man's going barmy.'

William sighed as he got up to investigate. As he left the office, he was hailed by a large woman who was standing at the gate.

'Excuse me, mister, but could you give this to Mr Oxford please?' she asked, handing him a crumpled bag. 'I tried ter catch 'im up but 'e was too far in front.'

William eventually located Jack in the store shed and watched, bemused, while the yard man took out a pair of boots from the paper bag and found a piece of paper rolled up in one of them. Jack's face screwed up as he glanced at the note. ''Ere, Will, can yer tell me what this ses?' he asked. 'I've never bin one fer readin' an' writin'.'

William read the message, struggling to keep a straight face: Dear Jack, Sorry things had to work out this way. Also I'm sorry if my Arthur scared you. He's not a violent man really, and I don't think he would have hit you with that piping. I'm taking him back and we are going to try to make a go of it. He said he still loves me. Look after yourself. You're a very nice man.

Love, Amy William handed the note back. 'So yer lost yer digs then, Jack?'

'Yeah, but it don't matter, Will,' the yard man replied. 'I've got me ole bed back at the doss-'ouse. I went ter see the bloke this mornin', that's why I was late. He said I could 'ave me bed back on one condition.'

'Oh, an' what's that?'

'On condition I always sc.r.a.pe the 'orse s.h.i.t orf me boots afore I go in,' Jack said, grinning widely.

Chapter Thirteen.

Carrie Tanner was feeling nervous as she waited on the street corner for Billy Sullivan. It was a warm Sat.u.r.day afternoon in July and the first time she had walked out with a boy. It was true she had got to know Billy and had chatted to him on many occasions but this was her first time out alone in his company, she realised. It had come as a pleasant surprise when she stopped to talk to him on her way home from the factory two nights ago and he had asked if she would like to walk out with him. Carrie felt a very grown-up eighteen as she pushed her wide summer bonnet down on to her head and fidgeted with the satin bow on the front of her tight-fitting dress. Her long fair hair was hanging loose down her back and her high-b.u.t.toned boots of patent leather shone in the bright sunlight. She felt a little breathless as she saw Billy leave his house and walk quickly towards her. The bodice of her dress felt tight and she remembered how she had needed her mother to help her b.u.t.ton it up.

Carrie smiled as she recalled the remarks her mother had made about her choice of dress. 'It's too tight and it shows yer bust off too much,' she said. 'It's cut a bit too low as well. Respectable girls don't show their wares. I think I ought ter put a few tacks in the front.'

Carrie had managed to persuade her that the dress was not too revealing and that she could not bear to be wrapped for winter on a fine summer's day. Her mother had relented but had been careful to point out the dangers facing a young girl when she was in the company of a young man such as Billy Sullivan.

''E's a good-lookin' boy, an' 'e's full of 'imself. Yer gotta be careful, Carrie,' she fussed. 'Boys don't 'ave ter face nuffing when they get a gel pregnant. It's us what 'ave ter bear the shame an' disgrace. They jus' brag about it. jus' be careful, an' don't let 'im take no liberties, understand, gel?'

Carrie laughed at her mother's fears. 'We're only goin' ter the park, Mum. Billy said there's an 'orse show there this afternoon an' 'e knows I like ter see the 'orses.'

Nellie had sighed as she watched her daughter leave the house and trip gaily along the cobbled turning. She had grown up so quickly, she thought. Maybe it was for the best that she was now beginning to take an interest in boys. The suffragette movement had been taking up most of her time and she was much too young to get involved in that sort of thing. Carrie had often spoken of those well-dressed women who devoted all their energies to the cause and they sounded a strange lot. There had been much made about it in the papers and at the music halls. Nellie remembered when Will had taken her to the South London Music Hall at the Elephant and Castle a couple of weeks ago and they watched a sketch about the suffragettes. They had been depicted as cigar-smoking women who dressed in monocles and wore their hair short and parted like men. They had eyed younger, pretty girls and made naughty suggestions to them as they put their arms about them. Nellie recalled how disgusted she was and how concerned she had been for her daughter. William had laughed it off when she confided her fears to him about her daughter's involvement with women like that, but she knew he shared her concern.

As Billy walked up to her with a wide smile on his face, Carrie forgot her mother's anxieties. She was feeling good, and the young man looked very smart in his dark grey single-breasted suit, starched collar and wide-knotted tie, she thought. Billy was not wearing a hat and his dark, curly hair was pushed back from his forehead. His deep blue eyes seemed to sparkle as he appraised her.

'Yer look very pretty,' he said as he fell into step beside her.

'Yer look smart yerself,' she replied, feeling her cheeks flush at her audacity.

They crossed Jamaica Road and walked the short distance to Southwark Park with Billy moving dutifully to the outside of the pavement. When they reached the park they saw the gaily decorated horses and carts going through the gates and Carrie gripped Billy's arm excitedly as she saw the two heavy dray-horses from the Courage brewery enter, pulling a shining, red-painted cart. Inside the park the contestants were manoeuvring into position on the wide gravel path and folk were milling around, the women wearing wide, flowered bonnets and many carrying parasols. The men were all dressed in suits and some wore bowler hats. Children laughed loudly as they rolled around in the gra.s.s, and a military bra.s.s band played lively music.

'They're shire-'orses,' Carrie said, pointing to the brewery drays. 'Those are cobs pullin' that 'ay cart an' that's a Clydesdale. We've got two o' them at the yard.'

Billy laughed at her excitement and took her by the arm as they walked along the edge of the path. Carrie felt his touch and shivered slightly. It was the first time they had made any real contact with each other and she could feel the heat of his hand. Billy led her past the parade and over towards the bandstand where the musicians sweated under their stiff uniforms as they blasted out a military march. Carrie stood amongst the gathering crowd and was aware of Billy standing very close behind her. She could feel his breath on the back of her neck and the pressure of his hand on her arm. She found herself becoming strangely elated and turned her head to face him. His blue eyes were looking deeply into hers and she averted her gaze, trying to look as though she was fascinated by the music. Billy merely smiled and led her away from the bandstand, his eyes fixed on her hot face as they walked slowly towards the flower gardens.

The sky was azure and the sun beat down on the gravel path as they entered the high, trellised area, and soon found a shaded bench seat beneath a deep pink flowering clematis. They sat close together and Billy took her hands in his.

'Yer know yer've got pretty lips,' he remarked, his smile making her feel as though he were mocking her.

She lowered her eyes, and her heart jumped as he slowly leaned forward and kissed her softly. Carrie kept her lips shut tight and her eyes closed until their lips parted, then she looked him firmly in the eye.

'You're very forward, Billy,' she said, two patches of red flooding her cheeks.

He laughed aloud. 'Yer didn't mind, did yer?'

Carrie averted her eyes. 'I dunno,' she said quickly, becoming more embarra.s.sed beneath his searching gaze. 'It's our first time out tergevver.'

Billy leaned back on the bench and slipped his arm along the back rail so that it rested against her slim shoulders. She moved forward and he sat up straight again, taking her hand in his. 'Do I frighten yer, Carrie?' he said.

''Course not,' she replied, looking suitably indignant. 'It's jus' . . . well, a gel's gotta be careful. I wouldn't want yer ter fink I'm too forward.'

His lips moved towards hers again but she moved back and he sighed deeply. 'Look, Carrie,' he said quietly, 'I've known yer fer a long time an' I've always liked yer a lot. There's no 'arm in me kissin' yer. We're not doin' anyfing wrong.'

She looked at him, her eyes searching his open face. 'I know. It's jus' that I like yer too, an' I'm nervous,' she told him. 'Yer make me feel shaky an' sort of funny inside. I can't 'elp it.'

He leaned forward and this time she did not resist. Their lips met in a warm kiss and his arms went around her tensed body. They heard a sc.r.a.ping sound on the flagstones and parted suddenly. A woman had walked into the garden area carrying a young baby in her arms. She sat down on the far seat, cooing to the baby melodiously.

Billy grinned at Carrie. 'Let's go an' watch the parade, shall we?'

The afternoon had become slightly cooler as the hot sun started to dip in the clear sky, and tired children were being led home by their fussing parents. The show horses and carts had already departed and it was becoming quiet. Carrie walked beside Billy and they talked together amiably.

'I wanna get ter be a good boxer, Carrie,' he said with a serious expression. 'I'll even be the British champion one day. I don't wanna spend the rest o' me life stuck in that factory. I want people ter see me in the street an' say, "There goes Billy Sullivan. 'E's the British champion." I want the kids ter run up ter me an' I'll give 'em pennies jus' like Pedlar Palmer does.'

'Who's Pedlar Palmer?' Carrie asked.

'Pedlar Palmer is the champion,' Billy answered quickly. 'When 'e's seen about there's always people followin' 'im. 'E gives the kids sweets and chucks pennies down on the pavement. Everybody knows Pedlar Palmer. They even say 'e's goin' ter America soon ter fight fer the world t.i.tle. That's what I wanna do, Carrie,' he said with pa.s.sion, making two fists and holding them out in front of him. 'It's all I ever wanted ter do.'

She was a little embarra.s.sed by his fervour and smiled shyly at him. 'Don't yer wanna get married one day?' she asked. 'Don't yer want a wife an' kids?'

Billy nodded. ''Course I do, Carrie, but I don't wanna be n.o.body. I don't wanna struggle like me dad 'as to ter fend fer us all. Look around yer. Look at Bacon Street Buildin's an' that fever-ridden slum in Salisbury Street. Look at the faces o' those people. They've all got that same look o' despair. The women are old before their time an' the men are all coughin' up their lungs an' spittin' in the gutter. Look at the people beggin' fer coppers, an' the kids 'angin' around in rags wiv that starved look on their faces. It's not fer me, Carrie,' he said with a will.

She was moved and roused by his outspokenness. She herself had felt those same feelings of disgust and anger growing inside her at the way people around her were forced to exist. She had been angered too by the way in which the suffragette movement was being ridiculed and discounted by her own kind. It seemed to her that unless women got the vote nothing would change. People would still remain in fever-ridden hovels and women would continue to grow old before their time, having to bear the brunt of bringing up large families and struggling to make the money stretch from week to week by taking in washing, scrubbing floors and going without food and clothes themselves. Billy's words had moved her and, companionably, she slipped her arm in his as they walked out of the park gates.

It was evening time and the sun had sunk down behind the rooftops as Carrie walked beside Billy along the river wall. The quiet warehouses were darkened by lengthening shadows and she could smell the river mud and the tang of hops from the brewery. The low river flowed away eastwards. On the foresh.o.r.e barges were lying beached on the mud. Seagulls wheeled and dived, screeching noisily as they searched for sc.r.a.ps, and the muddy waters eddied and formed small whirlpools on the turning tide. Carrie sighed contentedly as she looked downriver and saw the colours of evening disappear from the sky. It had been very nice walking out with Billy and listening to his dreams. She had been startled by his sudden show of affection but she had enjoyed his kiss. Now, as they trod the cobbled lane that ran between the tall wharves and warehouses, they both lapsed into silence. They were completely alone and their footsteps sounded loudly as they reached the white stone arch which led under Tower Bridge.