Hope - Lesley Pearse [99]
She liked picking up the money people threw to Gussie when he did his mimes outside the theatre. She even enjoyed distracting shopkeepers while Betsy and Gussie stole things. Only a couple of days ago Gussie had been talking about the rich pickings that could be found in the mud at low tide along the river Avon. Scavengers who worked there were called ‘mud larks’, and Hope could barely wait for the warmer weather to become one of them. A year ago, if anyone had suggested that she might seriously intend to make a living wading in filthy mud she would have been appalled.
But the unpalatable truth was that she’d allowed herself to become as apathetic as everyone else in Lewins Mead. She slept till late in the morning, roamed the streets rather than looking for real work, and even worse, she had begun to rely on having a few glasses of gin each day because it blocked out the sordid reality of her new life.
Ignorance and apathy were the true evils of Lewins Mead. While it might be said the residents lived under conditions which made it almost impossible to keep themselves clean and healthy, few of them ever attempted it, or even saw that it was desirable. Thieving and prostitution were the main occupations, and the money earned went on drink. Children were pushed out on to the streets to steal or beg almost as soon as they could walk and no one saw anything wrong in it.
But Hope couldn’t claim ignorance as an excuse for anything. She knew the difference between right and wrong, she had been educated and had a great many skills that none of her neighbours had. She might have fallen into this pit through no fault of her own, but now she’d got to find a way out of it. If she didn’t she’d end up in prison, or selling her body until it was too diseased for anyone to want it.
Daylight was fading and the wind was growing keener as the three friends made their way home with heavy sacks of wood over their shoulders. Hope had found some potatoes missed by a farmer in his field, and miraculously they hadn’t become blackened by frost.
‘We could sell one of the bags of wood and get enough for a couple of gins each,’ Betsy said as they reached the town.
‘It’s going to snow, so we’ll need the wood,’ Hope said sharply. ‘Gin won’t keep us warm.’
‘Hark at you!’ Betsy jeered. ‘So you think you’re in charge now you’ve cracked thieving?’
Hope hesitated before replying. She knew if she voiced all the thoughts she’d had this afternoon her friends would take it as a condemnation of their way of life. ‘I haven’t cracked it,’ she said carefully. ‘And I know I daren’t try it again. I’m going to get some real work.’
‘There ain’t no work for people like us,’ Betsy replied. ‘You should’ve seen that by now.’
Hope had half-expected that reaction. ‘Then I’ll collect wood and sell it,’ she retorted.
‘You’ll never be able to collect enough to sell without a barrow,’ Gussie said, though he looked at her with sympathy, not scorn. ‘But I never thought you was cut out fer thievin’ anyways.’
A couple of hours later, back in the room with the fire blazing and the potatoes baking around the edges, Hope attempted tactfully to explain more fully how she felt. As she had expected, Betsy bridled a bit, but Gussie came down on Hope’s side.
‘I’d hate it if you ended up a dollymop,’ he agreed, using the name used by the locals for a prostitute. ‘So would Betsy, she wouldn’t do that even if she were starving.’
‘I might,’ Betsy said airily. ‘If the cove was young, rich and good to me.’
Hope laughed, for Betsy always liked to have the last word, and more often than not she argued just for the sport of it. ‘If a man like that came along I’d want to marry him, not just lie with him,’ Hope said. ‘But that isn’t going to happen, not when I look like this!’
Gussie looked at her appraisingly. ‘You’re beautiful, Hope,’ he said, clearly not seeing the tangled hair or how shabby and dirty her grey dress had become. ‘So is Betsy. You could both get anyone if you put your mind to it.’
‘You charmer,’ Hope smiled. ‘But it isn’t any good wishing for