upside down in the darkness. She knelt down and tucked the sacking round him.
‘Don’t you ever let Grandpa know you’re here. See?’
‘I won’t.’
‘Good boy. I’ll go in soon, and see to the old lady.’
‘She’s like a sparrow,’ said Jim.
Rosie laughed. ‘A crow, more like. Seen crows, Jim? Flappy, greedy things? That’s Grandma, when she gets going. A spitting crow. I sometimes think she’d peck my hand right off if she was hungry enough.’
‘Rosie,’ said Jim. ‘Can I stay here?’
She held the candle up so she could look down at him. ‘Stay here? I don’t know how long I’ll be staying here myself.’
‘Can’t you ever go back to his lordship’s house?’
‘I wish I could! I was very comfortable there. I was very lucky to get that job. It was because Lame Betsyspoke up for me that I got it. But never mind. I lost it, and that’s that.’
‘Was it because of Lizzie and Emily that you lost it?’
Rosie was silent for a bit. Then she said, ‘Lord, no. Whatever made you think that, Jim? It was because my cooking was so bad! I’ve never cooked anything but fish in my life! And they expected me to bake bread. Bread! My bread broke the flagstones if I dropped it.’
Jim smiled to himself in the darkness. He’d just tried some of Rosie’s bread and he reckoned she was right.
‘But what about Emily and Lizzie? They didn’t get sent to the workhouse, did they?’
Rosie blew her nose on her fishy apron. ‘To the workhouse? Emily and Lizzie? I’d have fought them all, his lordship included, if they’d done that. No, I’ll tell you what happened to Emily and Lizzie. Close your eyes and I’ll tell you what happened.’
Jim listened quietly while Rosie told him about a grey-eyed lady who had visited the big house. She had come right down into the kitchen to see the two girls for herself. ‘She took them upstairs, Jim, and had them washed in her own wash room. And she sent out for dresses for them, a blue one for Emily, and a white one for Lizzie. And then she took them in a carriage, a beautiful carriage drawn by four white horses. You should have seen them setting off, as proud as little queens! They went all the way the countryside, to her summer home, to be looked after there.’
She tucked the sacks round him and crept out of the shed and back to the noisy cottage, and Jim lay for a long time listening to the soft lapping of the river against his shed, thinking about the story Rosie had told him. And hoping it was true.
12
Shrimps
Next morning Rosie told Jim that he would have to help her if she was going to feed him. She tied an old sack over his shoulders to disguise the workhouse clothes, in case the police saw him.
‘You’ll have to keep moving, Jim, same as me,’ she warned him. ‘If the bobbies see me standing still they’ll soon pack me off as well. We’ll both be running all day.’
Jim liked working for her. When her voice grew tired he would shout out for her. ‘Whelkso! Salmon for sale! Pickled fish and shrimpso!’ He danced round while he was shouting, partly to keep himself warm and partly so he could watch out on all sides for policemen coming. He had such a light, skipping way of dancing that people stopped to watch him on their way to their shops and offices. They soon got to know him.
‘Skip for us, Jimmy!’ they used to say, especially if they saw him standing on his own.
‘Buy some shrimps and I will!’ Jim would say, and Rosie would step up with her tray of seafood and persuade them to buy something. While they wereeating Jim would dance for them, and he would close his eyes, close out the street, and close out the faces of all the strangers …
A long time ago his father had danced for him in their cottage. Jim could just remember the laughing faces of Emily and Lizzie as they sat on a long polished bench by the fire. He had been a very small boy then. He remembered clapping his hands and shouting out as his father danced, and the
‘Don’t you ever let Grandpa know you’re here. See?’
‘I won’t.’
‘Good boy. I’ll go in soon, and see to the old lady.’
‘She’s like a sparrow,’ said Jim.
Rosie laughed. ‘A crow, more like. Seen crows, Jim? Flappy, greedy things? That’s Grandma, when she gets going. A spitting crow. I sometimes think she’d peck my hand right off if she was hungry enough.’
‘Rosie,’ said Jim. ‘Can I stay here?’
She held the candle up so she could look down at him. ‘Stay here? I don’t know how long I’ll be staying here myself.’
‘Can’t you ever go back to his lordship’s house?’
‘I wish I could! I was very comfortable there. I was very lucky to get that job. It was because Lame Betsyspoke up for me that I got it. But never mind. I lost it, and that’s that.’
‘Was it because of Lizzie and Emily that you lost it?’
Rosie was silent for a bit. Then she said, ‘Lord, no. Whatever made you think that, Jim? It was because my cooking was so bad! I’ve never cooked anything but fish in my life! And they expected me to bake bread. Bread! My bread broke the flagstones if I dropped it.’
Jim smiled to himself in the darkness. He’d just tried some of Rosie’s bread and he reckoned she was right.
‘But what about Emily and Lizzie? They didn’t get sent to the workhouse, did they?’
Rosie blew her nose on her fishy apron. ‘To the workhouse? Emily and Lizzie? I’d have fought them all, his lordship included, if they’d done that. No, I’ll tell you what happened to Emily and Lizzie. Close your eyes and I’ll tell you what happened.’
Jim listened quietly while Rosie told him about a grey-eyed lady who had visited the big house. She had come right down into the kitchen to see the two girls for herself. ‘She took them upstairs, Jim, and had them washed in her own wash room. And she sent out for dresses for them, a blue one for Emily, and a white one for Lizzie. And then she took them in a carriage, a beautiful carriage drawn by four white horses. You should have seen them setting off, as proud as little queens! They went all the way the countryside, to her summer home, to be looked after there.’
She tucked the sacks round him and crept out of the shed and back to the noisy cottage, and Jim lay for a long time listening to the soft lapping of the river against his shed, thinking about the story Rosie had told him. And hoping it was true.
12
Shrimps
Next morning Rosie told Jim that he would have to help her if she was going to feed him. She tied an old sack over his shoulders to disguise the workhouse clothes, in case the police saw him.
‘You’ll have to keep moving, Jim, same as me,’ she warned him. ‘If the bobbies see me standing still they’ll soon pack me off as well. We’ll both be running all day.’
Jim liked working for her. When her voice grew tired he would shout out for her. ‘Whelkso! Salmon for sale! Pickled fish and shrimpso!’ He danced round while he was shouting, partly to keep himself warm and partly so he could watch out on all sides for policemen coming. He had such a light, skipping way of dancing that people stopped to watch him on their way to their shops and offices. They soon got to know him.
‘Skip for us, Jimmy!’ they used to say, especially if they saw him standing on his own.
‘Buy some shrimps and I will!’ Jim would say, and Rosie would step up with her tray of seafood and persuade them to buy something. While they wereeating Jim would dance for them, and he would close his eyes, close out the street, and close out the faces of all the strangers …
A long time ago his father had danced for him in their cottage. Jim could just remember the laughing faces of Emily and Lizzie as they sat on a long polished bench by the fire. He had been a very small boy then. He remembered clapping his hands and shouting out as his father danced, and the
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