won’t never be lonely here , she went on. Will we? And was pushing up against him in the way she knew he could not resist, and finally calling out in triumph.
Butler’s Buildings was what he had known through his childhood. Having once hoped for something better, and been within reach of it, he could not face going back to it. Left to himself, he would have let himself slip under the surface of life like a man fallen into water that was too cold to fight.
She kept him going, even when hunger began to pinch. He had not forgotten how wearisome it was when the emptiness was always there. He was tired at the thought of it, would have turned his face to the wall, the way Mrs Middleton had, and given up. Had never thought that a Freeman of the River Thames could go hungrier than a prentice, could be as starving as ever he had been in Tanner’s Lane. He tried to put a brave face on it, but he knew that hunger could last a lifetime.
Sal, perhaps from innocence, treated want as a temporary accident, something two people as quick as themselves could overcome. She took a couple of eggs off a stall one day, slipping them into the baby’s shawl while everyone was watching a couple of dogs fighting. She made a good story of it to Thornhill that night: I’d a got three, Will, only the bleeding dogs kissed and made up too soon . She laughed, remembering, and he laughed with her, both of them warmed with the egg in their stomachs. Started sniffing each other’s arses, that weren’t no good to me!
It was her first theft and she was as proud of it as a child.
He told her what a clever thief she was, but his heart was heavy. His life was going backwards.
From the tiny window of their room they could see the fowls in Ingram’s yard underneath them all day, scratching, bustling, flying at the crusts and peelings flung out the kitchen door by Ingram’s cook. The Thornhills would have fought the fowls for those crusts, except that Mr Ingram’s servant was always in the yard, and watched the Thornhills sourly, knowing what was in their minds.
It was Sal’s idea. It was a matter of being Johnny-on-the-spot,she said, and keeping their wits about them. They waited until they saw the servant staggering towards the privy one afternoon, undone by liquor. Thornhill dashed down and seized the nearest hen and got it under his coat and up to their room again. They had it out and were just about to wring its neck when there were feet on the stairs, and shouts of Thief! But quick-witted Sal thrust the thing out the window, where it landed on the roof of the little outhouse below and stalked about there clucking while they tried to shoo it off, back down into the yard. The stupid thing stood there cackling, and they could hear the servant yelling out, I seen a fowl come out the window!
When Mr Ingram came in, red-faced, in search of his hen, there was nothing there, only a feather on the floor. When he looked out the window he saw the hen on the roof below. But Thornhill claimed he had just woke up, was about to go down to the port to begin work, and Sal swore blind, He has not left the room in the last six hours, and the damned fowl must have got up on the roof itself , we know nothing of it whatsoever, as God is our witness .
When Ingram had gone, grumbling, the Thornhills laughed together. For having to be suppressed, their laughing went on longer than it might otherwise, because what was really so funny? Then there was a long silence in the room. Sal picked up a fold of her old skirt, the only one she had now, stained and patched and ragged round the hem, and said, We are just about so our stomachs are flapping on our backbones, Will , and all the fun had gone out of her voice. That is the fact of it .
He worked, day after day, for whoever would employ a journeyman with no boat of his own. He carried the gentry to and fro and came to hate them warm in their furs, their hands deep in their pockets, their eyes almost hidden by their caps,
Butler’s Buildings was what he had known through his childhood. Having once hoped for something better, and been within reach of it, he could not face going back to it. Left to himself, he would have let himself slip under the surface of life like a man fallen into water that was too cold to fight.
She kept him going, even when hunger began to pinch. He had not forgotten how wearisome it was when the emptiness was always there. He was tired at the thought of it, would have turned his face to the wall, the way Mrs Middleton had, and given up. Had never thought that a Freeman of the River Thames could go hungrier than a prentice, could be as starving as ever he had been in Tanner’s Lane. He tried to put a brave face on it, but he knew that hunger could last a lifetime.
Sal, perhaps from innocence, treated want as a temporary accident, something two people as quick as themselves could overcome. She took a couple of eggs off a stall one day, slipping them into the baby’s shawl while everyone was watching a couple of dogs fighting. She made a good story of it to Thornhill that night: I’d a got three, Will, only the bleeding dogs kissed and made up too soon . She laughed, remembering, and he laughed with her, both of them warmed with the egg in their stomachs. Started sniffing each other’s arses, that weren’t no good to me!
It was her first theft and she was as proud of it as a child.
He told her what a clever thief she was, but his heart was heavy. His life was going backwards.
From the tiny window of their room they could see the fowls in Ingram’s yard underneath them all day, scratching, bustling, flying at the crusts and peelings flung out the kitchen door by Ingram’s cook. The Thornhills would have fought the fowls for those crusts, except that Mr Ingram’s servant was always in the yard, and watched the Thornhills sourly, knowing what was in their minds.
It was Sal’s idea. It was a matter of being Johnny-on-the-spot,she said, and keeping their wits about them. They waited until they saw the servant staggering towards the privy one afternoon, undone by liquor. Thornhill dashed down and seized the nearest hen and got it under his coat and up to their room again. They had it out and were just about to wring its neck when there were feet on the stairs, and shouts of Thief! But quick-witted Sal thrust the thing out the window, where it landed on the roof of the little outhouse below and stalked about there clucking while they tried to shoo it off, back down into the yard. The stupid thing stood there cackling, and they could hear the servant yelling out, I seen a fowl come out the window!
When Mr Ingram came in, red-faced, in search of his hen, there was nothing there, only a feather on the floor. When he looked out the window he saw the hen on the roof below. But Thornhill claimed he had just woke up, was about to go down to the port to begin work, and Sal swore blind, He has not left the room in the last six hours, and the damned fowl must have got up on the roof itself , we know nothing of it whatsoever, as God is our witness .
When Ingram had gone, grumbling, the Thornhills laughed together. For having to be suppressed, their laughing went on longer than it might otherwise, because what was really so funny? Then there was a long silence in the room. Sal picked up a fold of her old skirt, the only one she had now, stained and patched and ragged round the hem, and said, We are just about so our stomachs are flapping on our backbones, Will , and all the fun had gone out of her voice. That is the fact of it .
He worked, day after day, for whoever would employ a journeyman with no boat of his own. He carried the gentry to and fro and came to hate them warm in their furs, their hands deep in their pockets, their eyes almost hidden by their caps,
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