thankful that she was wearing a new crimson dress that Betsy had not seen before. Even so, she gasped with fear when she heard Betsy’s shrieking voice…
‘Stupid sod, get that ball out of me way, get out of it!’ It was unmistakably Betsy in a tear, Alice had heard this tone of voice many times before and it made her fearful. One of the jugglers scooped up the ball from before Betsy’s feet. Sensing Alice’s alarm he put his arm around her waist and quickly led her to the front of the group where she blended with the others.
Betsy was seething with annoyance but soon shrugged off the disruption to her journey and continued her walk with a purpose. Her mind was fixed on nipping into the George Tavern. She wanted to see if she could spy on Charlie Boyle, to see if he had any work on. She imagined he’d be sitting there playing dominoes, idling away another workless day. If he was there, it would confirm her feelings that the Boyles were skint.
Her smoker’s cough was getting worse these days, especially when she had over exerted herself. It was a fair walk to the Mersey from Duke Street. Her lungs became irritated by the unaccustomed fresh river air as she approached the water. She coughed out a mouthful of dark stained phlegm into her clean lace handkerchief, she then stuffed it back into her skirt pocket.
She wore her hair in ringlets topped with a dated lace cap. Her puny, slight frame was swamped in black taffeta giving her the appearance of a wizened doll.
It had just gone one o’clock when she pushed open the heavy door of the alehouse. As she opened the door, she looked up at the stained glass window at the top, it depicted a colourful sailing ship. In her mind she wondered if she might find Freddie in the pub. He hadn’t returned that morning and The George was one of his favourite haunts.
As soon as the landlord and his barmaid looked at her, she at once detected hostility in their eyes and immediately felt unwelcome. As she walked towards them the landlord slapped the bar top with his hand and bawled, ‘You are not welcome in ‘ere you old bag, you’re barred. Get out!’
‘I haven’t come in ‘ere to be insulted, me and my Freddie spend all kinds of money in this establishment, I have never been so insulted in my entire life!’ Betsy’s voice was shrilly, she then started to cough uncontrollably, prompting the landlord to launch into a tirade.
There were a few men dotted around the pub sitting at tables engrossed in their chatter and dominoes, all fell silent and turned to watch the commotion.
‘Your slippery Freddie has been buying liquor off a thief, and the pair of them have been lifted this morning.’ He wrinkled up his nose, his language was as salty as the river. ‘What he and that Charlie Boyle do is their business but I will not allow any impropriety in my pub. And I’m not having his wife in ‘ere selling stolen goods. I know what your game is an’ all, you evil cow, you are exploiting young girls, I won’t have it. Listen to you, I will not have you coughing and spluttering your filthy germs amongst my clientele. Nor do I want you sitting on my chairs.’ He looked her up and down, he made her feel like dirt beneath his boots. ‘I’m not havin’ any of it.’
Betsy couldn’t take any more of this onslaught, she turned on her heels and almost ran out of the pub, mortified and humiliated. She slammed the door behind her. Seething with anger she headed towards Cheapside Bridewell. The hapless pair would either be banged up or, by now, released on bail.
After a long wait at the police station, the portly desk Sergeant told Betsy that both men were out on bail. He was even more rude to her than the pub landlord. The blustery sergeant made her feel angry and her mood was raw. Her feelings were numb towards Freddie, she was as cold as ice. She had no empathy with him at all. ‘How can he do this to me? The stupid bastard!’ She shrieked. The sergeant had by now lost
‘Stupid sod, get that ball out of me way, get out of it!’ It was unmistakably Betsy in a tear, Alice had heard this tone of voice many times before and it made her fearful. One of the jugglers scooped up the ball from before Betsy’s feet. Sensing Alice’s alarm he put his arm around her waist and quickly led her to the front of the group where she blended with the others.
Betsy was seething with annoyance but soon shrugged off the disruption to her journey and continued her walk with a purpose. Her mind was fixed on nipping into the George Tavern. She wanted to see if she could spy on Charlie Boyle, to see if he had any work on. She imagined he’d be sitting there playing dominoes, idling away another workless day. If he was there, it would confirm her feelings that the Boyles were skint.
Her smoker’s cough was getting worse these days, especially when she had over exerted herself. It was a fair walk to the Mersey from Duke Street. Her lungs became irritated by the unaccustomed fresh river air as she approached the water. She coughed out a mouthful of dark stained phlegm into her clean lace handkerchief, she then stuffed it back into her skirt pocket.
She wore her hair in ringlets topped with a dated lace cap. Her puny, slight frame was swamped in black taffeta giving her the appearance of a wizened doll.
It had just gone one o’clock when she pushed open the heavy door of the alehouse. As she opened the door, she looked up at the stained glass window at the top, it depicted a colourful sailing ship. In her mind she wondered if she might find Freddie in the pub. He hadn’t returned that morning and The George was one of his favourite haunts.
As soon as the landlord and his barmaid looked at her, she at once detected hostility in their eyes and immediately felt unwelcome. As she walked towards them the landlord slapped the bar top with his hand and bawled, ‘You are not welcome in ‘ere you old bag, you’re barred. Get out!’
‘I haven’t come in ‘ere to be insulted, me and my Freddie spend all kinds of money in this establishment, I have never been so insulted in my entire life!’ Betsy’s voice was shrilly, she then started to cough uncontrollably, prompting the landlord to launch into a tirade.
There were a few men dotted around the pub sitting at tables engrossed in their chatter and dominoes, all fell silent and turned to watch the commotion.
‘Your slippery Freddie has been buying liquor off a thief, and the pair of them have been lifted this morning.’ He wrinkled up his nose, his language was as salty as the river. ‘What he and that Charlie Boyle do is their business but I will not allow any impropriety in my pub. And I’m not having his wife in ‘ere selling stolen goods. I know what your game is an’ all, you evil cow, you are exploiting young girls, I won’t have it. Listen to you, I will not have you coughing and spluttering your filthy germs amongst my clientele. Nor do I want you sitting on my chairs.’ He looked her up and down, he made her feel like dirt beneath his boots. ‘I’m not havin’ any of it.’
Betsy couldn’t take any more of this onslaught, she turned on her heels and almost ran out of the pub, mortified and humiliated. She slammed the door behind her. Seething with anger she headed towards Cheapside Bridewell. The hapless pair would either be banged up or, by now, released on bail.
After a long wait at the police station, the portly desk Sergeant told Betsy that both men were out on bail. He was even more rude to her than the pub landlord. The blustery sergeant made her feel angry and her mood was raw. Her feelings were numb towards Freddie, she was as cold as ice. She had no empathy with him at all. ‘How can he do this to me? The stupid bastard!’ She shrieked. The sergeant had by now lost
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