Gypsy - Lesley Pearse [89]
It was sheer defiance that made Jack go. He had been tempted so many times to backslide into his old ways of drinking and fighting, and he thought if she let him down he could justify it. But there she was, waiting for him on Castle Green, bright, eager and lovely.
He had been surprised that Sam wasn’t in work, and when he sensed her anxiety about it, he tried to help, never imagining Sam would stoop to being a barman on the Bowery. Jack hadn’t admitted how he was living, or how gruesome his job was — that would have been too much for Beth — but it spurred him on to improve his situation.
Getting moved into the butchery side of the slaughterhouse wouldn’t seem much of a step up to many, but it was. He was learning a trade which would stand him in good stead in the future, and he didn’t have to see and hear the cattle’s terror. Shortly afterwards he got a better room, sharing with three friends. It wasn’t much, but it was clean, he had a real bed and a place to hang his clothes.
All through the summer he thought he had the sun, the moon and the stars because he had Beth. He worked extra hours to get more money so he could save a little; he even went to a night class to improve his reading and writing.
Then came the day he realized she didn’t feel the same about him.
For a while he thought life wasn’t worth living without her. It was like a knife through the heart hearing that his rival was a gentleman, for it brought back all his old feelings of worthlessness. So many nights he went down to Heaney’s and stood outside just to listen to her playing, and he’d be choked up with tears.
It was on one of those nights that it came to him that even if she didn’t return his love, maybe he could keep her in his life as a friend. He knew it wasn’t going to be easy, for he’d have to pretend to like Theo the card sharp and put up with Sam looking down on him. But he thought he could do that, in the hopes that one day Beth might need him.
Well, she needed him now. He just hoped he could track down where she was being held and rescue her.
Jack was systematic in his search, up one alley, down the next, checking out each tiny dark court in between. He saw drunks lying insensible, near-naked children with hollow eyes sitting listlessly on stoops. Gangs of young lads eyed him up with suspicion, haggard whores offered themselves for a few cents.
Everywhere else in New York there were Christmas decorations, festooned trees and shop windows full of ideas for presents. But although tomorrow was Christmas Eve, there was no hint of any festivity here.
Jack spoke to many people. Mostly he pretended he was just off a ship and had been told that he’d got to look up someone called Fingers Malone. Mostly people shook their heads and said they didn’t know anyone by that name. An old whore with a pockmarked face spat and said he was an evil bastard, but couldn’t be drawn as to why, or where he could be found. A couple of lads of about thirteen bragged they’d done a few jobs for him. Jack was pretty certain they’d only heard his name and wouldn’t even know the man if he stood in front of them.
In a dirty, smoky saloon on Mulberry, the barman said he owned a chunk of property in Bottle Alley, but a man drinking at the bar said it wasn’t there, it was in Blind Man’s Court.
By eight in the evening Jack’s feet ached. He was so weary of repeating the same story to so many people that he doubted he was making much sense, and he’d scrutinized every inch of both Bottle Alley and Blind Man’s Court. The Bend was no place for a stranger to hang around at night, for the alleys were dark, full of drunks eager for a fight and young lads on the prowl looking for someone to rob. It was also bitterly cold, so he felt he had to go back to Heaney’s to see if Sam had any news.
It was a relief to get back to the Bowery with its bright lights and gaiety.