Fallen Grace - Mary Hooper [25]
Thinking on all this, Grace began weeping. She’d let Mama down, she’d let Lily down, the watercress season was over, there was hardly anything left to pawn and winter was coming. What was to become of them?
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Chapter Ten
Before the Beales left Mrs Macready’s the following morning, Mrs Beale gave Grace her tattered shawl and apron, for they’d been told that they wouldn’t be allowed to enter the workhouse with any possessions of their own. Even the clothes they were wearing would be taken away and, after being hosed down, they’d have to wear crude workhouse garments made of sacking, with a number on their backs.
Despite the threadbare condition of these two items of Mrs Beale’s, Grace was able to get a penny for them at a rag fair and, with this and the painted ha’penny, to buy a large bunch of watercress (rather yellowing, hence the price) which she split into five. After managing to sell these bunches for a penny each, the two girls began making their way back to Mrs Macready’s, Grace hurrying because she had a job to do. Winter was fast advancing, and because one of the two small windows in their room was broken it was very draughty. She planned to beg a few old crates from a stall in Neal’s Yard, and a hammer and nails from one of the costermongers upstairs, and try and nail boards across the gaps. It would make it even darker in their little room, for the houses opposite were so close that little light penetrated anyway, but to be dark seemed better than being cold. Cold they surely would be, however, at some time in the coming months, for – now that everything they had of any value had been pawned – this winter there would be no money to buy firewood or coals.
Coming close to the lane where they lived, with Mrs Macready’s house already in view, Grace was struck by the unusual number of people milling about – not only the normal stray children, hawkers, tinkers, peddlers and housewives going to and from market – but workmen in blue serge, and two or three men with top hats and dark suits. She turned to mention this to Lily, but her sister had wandered off, having seen a hawker with a kitten and puppy together in a cage, one of the ‘happy families’ – kittens with mice or ducklings, or cats and dogs together – that had recently become popular begging accessories. On Lily showing some interest in these, however, the cloth which covered the cage had been replaced, and the showman refused to let her see the animals unless she produced a ha’penny.
Lily ran back to Grace. ‘Just a ha’penny!’ she pleaded. ‘Only a ha’penny to see the dearest kitten and puppy playing together.’
Grace shook her head, intent on discovering why there were so many extra people in the area. She craned her head to see along Brick Place. What was happening?
‘And you can see them, too, at the same time!’ Lily persisted.
‘And pet them, miss, for just a small extra charge!’ called the showman, a gaunt individual, his coat tied up with string.
‘I’m sorry, I cannot. Lily, please come along!’ Grace waved the showman out of the way, but tried to do it in a civil manner, for she knew that he was only doing what everyone else in London was doing: trying to earn enough money to survive.
Lily reluctantly left the animals and joined her sister, staring where she was staring. ‘What’s happening? Why has our house got wood over the windows?’
They went closer. Mrs Macready’s house was the second along in a small terrace of four, all of which were in similar states of shabby disrepair – two were without chimney pots, several