THE DEPRIVED... Chapter 2... Part 24.

A continuation of my book.

Beth turned to watch as more of the Mudlarkers crept out from the holes in the walls and seemed to vanish into the crowd like small ghosts.
Life under the arch was all new to her and allowed her to know that even though she, Beth and Sam had lived, even in that one small room, at least they had been able to close a door and have privacy. But here, with the smoke and the smells, there was no privacy with people just opening themselves up and urinating against the arch walls wherever no-one sat.
“Here, take this.” said Mary.
Mary had drawn out her purse and withdrawing some money she handed it to Kilpatrick. He shifted uncomfortably, not looking at her.
“I aint into taking your money, Missus.” he said.
“It’s to buy food with.” said Mary. “There are four mouths here and I can go out tonight and tread the cobbles and earn a few coppers.”
“Lord love us, Missus. You aint fitting for any night’s malarkey. No missus, you stay here in the warm of a jolly fire at night. I will take your coin and spend it in a good way.” decided Kilpatrick firmly.
He rose from the fire.
“No, Missus.” he said again. “You stay here with the young ‘uns and I’ll see to things as I might.”
“And I have this for you as a gift.” said Mary, taking out the lock-knife she had stolen from the sailor earlier .
“Well I never!” exclaimed Kilpatrick as he took the knife and unlocked the blade.
He tasted the blade on his tongue, testing its steeled sharpness before locking the blade back into the handle.
“She’s a good one.” he acknowledged as he pocketed the knife.
He bent down to retrieve his stout club and handed it to Mary.
“Take this here club and just wave it if them Mudlarkers come close. They know what it means for them should it fetch a clout and they will stay away.”
“Where are you going?” asked Mary.
“First thing is to get some good fodder for the fire tonight. With your money in me pocket we can afford a few tarry-blocks.”
“What are they? I mean tarry-blocks? Where do you get them from?” asked Beth.
She seemed fascinated by this tall rangy man with the fierce grey eyes and watched his every move. Sam sat back, his eyes watching the talk between Beth and Kilpatrick and darkening in jealousy.
“Now there’s a lass as needs to know things and that’s a learning thing to brighten a young ‘uns life.” said Kilpatrick, kneeling down again and speaking to Beth. “I shall inform your mind as to what them tarry-blocks are and where Kilpatrick gets them. You see yonder, out there in the streets?”
Beth followed the pointing finger which was directed towards the entrance to the arch. She nodded.
“Them streets out there is made of wood. Now, would you believe them streets is built of blocks of wood and then coated in pitch? And that’s what is known as tarry-blocks and proper good burning they are too. One of them blocks will keep the likes of us cheerful all night.”
“You mean you just dig the blocks up?” laughed Beth, not sure if Kilpatrick was telling a story.
“Well not me, young lass. No, not me.” he replied. “There a good birching and a spell in Newgit clink for digging up them royal streets and I aint in no shape as to have the liberty taken with me person. However there are them as do take the wood blocks and aint afraid to, neither. It’s the likes of them as I shall pay a fee and carry the blocks in a sack in very sharp time back to this here fire. I has to dodge them Bobby Dazzlers, them peelers as will have sharp peepers.” finished Kilpatrick, rising and slapping down at his britches before walking away and was lost among the groups round their fires and beyond.

 

Beth and Sam lay asleep under the sacks while Mary sat up, the cough not allowing her to sleep. She knew that death was a creeper, a shadow which stayed with her and if it had not been for the children she would have welcomed death as a peaceful sleep and an escape from the deprivation and poverty which was an enforced challenge each day. She watched the men who gambled round the fires, playing dice and bones and spending time and with what little they had, laughing and jeering within the groups when one or the other won or lost. The banter from the women who squatted along the walls of the arches caused Mary to wonder how these women could ever find mirth in such a desperate situation, young women in rags who were old beyond their years. And the children who ran among the fires, shouting and daring, sometimes joining the beggared little Mudlarkers, who ran round in rotted dress and seemed as chirpy as sparrows who roosted and found sanctuary in notches and niches in the smoked-black walls of this hell-hole.