THE DEPRIVED... Chapter 2... Part 23.

A continuation of my book.

“Quick now.” ordered Mary, suddenly coming to life and taking charge. “Let’s get dressed and as far away as we can!”
“Where are we going?” asked Beth.
“Just get dressed and hurry up.”

Mary had dressed and went with the children swiftly down the stairs. She stopped, kneeling to touch at the landlords face. It was cold. She began searching his pockets and found a small bag with silver and copper coins which she clasped in her hand.
“Hurry now.” she urged, rising from the body and the three of them ran out into the street and hurried away.

 

“Help! Police! Murder!”                    
The landlord’s wife, in nightcap and gown had run out into the street and was now screaming at the top of her voice.
Mary gasped, running blindly with the breath rattling in her throat as she led the children through the alleyways and without thought she continued towards Viaduct Street. She stopped to lean on a horse tie as she coughed fitfully and then spitting and catching her breath she leaned on Beth, suddenly seeing the arches ahead.

 

Kilpatrick rose from the fire when he saw Mary arrive through the smoky gloom, his grey eyes softening with concern when he also took in Beth who helped Mary to walk and the small slim boy who hung back, his dark eyes taking in the hustle and bustle of the crowded arch.
“Lord’s larks!” exclaimed Kilpatrick. “Come here. You look all in. Come here and sit down on the sacking and catch your breath. Come on now, you two children as well. Sit there on your bottoms and allow Kilpatrick to make you all comfortable.”
He went to the pile of sacks by the wall and brought some to the fire, spreading them out so that Mary could sit down with the children, leaning over and breathing in deeply to alleviate the rasping in her throat while Beth rubbed at her back. Sam stood back, staring up at the tall man who returned the stare with fierce grey eyes before picking up the thick wooden club, to stride away.
“Settle yourselves by the fire and I’ll be back.” he called over his shoulder.
Sam followed the man with his eyes, watching as Kilpatrick went further into the arch and to stop where a group of men sat drinking from tins. Speaking to one of the men Sam could see him arguing for a while as the two bartered. He relaxed as he saw Kilpatrick and the man spit on their palms and shake hands. There was an exchange of coin and a large can. Kilpatrick came walking back to the fire with a can full of hot home-brewed gin.
“Here you go.” he said, handing the tin to Mary. “Have a drink of this. It don’t taste to being healthy, that I can promise you. But it cures all sickness if it don’t kill you first.”
Mary sipped the brew and gagged at first then sipped some more before couching most of it up. Beth took the tin and held it up to her mother’s lips so that Mary took a little at time. The colour came back to her cheeks and she began to breathe easier.
“Thank you Beth.” she said.
“Now you two young ‘uns take in a drop each and that will perk the lights in you no end.” ordered Kilpatrick.
First Beth then Sam drunk from the tin, gasping as the drink seared into their throats.
“That’s it, young ‘uns. You’ll soon get used to a tipple in morning’s light and at night. The brats that live here are raised and bred to that drink and it’s okay as long as you don’t get too much a taste for it.”
Saying that, Kilpatrick took the tin away from Sam and throwing back his head he swallowed the lot in one big gulp.
“Put some wood on that fire, boy.” he ordered, pulling out some more sacking and seating himself as Sam threw more wood on the fire.
Mary began to speak but Kilpatrick held up a hand.
“Kilpatrick has no ears for another’s plight, Missus. There’s no need to share your sorrow with me. Sorrow is best left in the heart and that way saved for one soul without giving another grief.”
“You’re a strange man, Kilpatrick.” said Mary.
Kilpatrick hunched over the fire, the light sharpening his grey eyes as he stared into the flames. For a while he said nothing. It was as if he simply accepted what went on around him, which gave energy to his sense of self-sufficiency so that he really needed no-one.
“Kilpatrick is here to give what hearty cheer he can give. You can be comforted in your trust in me.” he suddenly said.
As he spoke some beggar children, their faces thick with dirt and grime and with caked clothes hanging from them which carried a smell which took the breath away, had started to gather round to staring at Beth and Sam.
“Go away!” shouted Kilpatrick, suddenly rising and picking up his club and waving it threateningly in the air.
The urchins ran off, screaming and hooting with laughter and  running to disappear and hide in the nooks and crannies which lined the arch walls, their weird hooting and calling echoing out.
“Who are they?” asked Beth, her nose still wrinkling from the smell.
“Them young ‘uns are Mudlarkers. They work in the cesspits and on the banks where the sewers run out into the River Thames. They go there at low tides and grovel through the muck and body-soil, looking for whatever is saleable. Them brats are beggar children and aint got no parents. There’s lots of them as live deep under the ground in the sewers and has trouble with their eyes as to not gathering too much daylight.” explained Kilpatrick.
“How awful!” exclaimed Beth.
“I tell you, young ‘un.” said Kilpatrick, settling himself once more. “Don’t you bother with them and their larkins, ‘cause they’ll take everything you’ve got!”