THE DEPRIVED... Chapter 2... Part 27.

A continuation of my book.

Returning to the archway with the blankets and clothing, Kilpatrick and Beth made their way through the groups of men, women and children, to be greeted by Mary as she rose with a wide smile. Sam said nothing nor did he look up from the fire.
"Who are for these old sacks!” shouted Kilpatrick loudly, holding up the old potato sacks.
At his shout there came a mad rush of people and Mudlarkers, who rushed forward to hungrily snatch up the old sacks which he had taken up from the wall and thrown away along with those taken from the fireplace. Men and women fought over the sacks until they were all taken, the Mudlarkers scuttling back to their hidey-holes and others back to fire-places.
“And there’s clothes here for you and the boy.” said Kilpatrick, opening up the parcel and displaying the clothes bought from Old Levistein.
Mary and Sam stood behind a blanket held up by Beth and put on the clothes before throwing away their cast-offs for the Mudlarkers to take. Mary tried to thank Kilpatrick but he shook his head.
“It was your money, Missus.” was all he said.
Mary prepared a meal and served it and they sat round the fire and ate as Beth excitedly told Mary and Sam about the happenings down at the River Thames dockside.
“Can I go and see those Mudlarkers at work?” asked Sam.
This was the first time Sam had spoken to Kilpatrick directly and he put his eyes to the ground when he felt the sharp grey eyes look at him.
“Lord’s lark, young ‘un.” returned Kilpatrick. “It’s hard enough for a soul to have to know how them young persons scrape a living without going to see it with them young eyes of yours. Just know you aint got to be in such dire straits as to have to ever do that, young ‘un.”
Sam said nothing in reply, feeling himself flush and understanding he would not be asking the tall tough man any other favours again, his pride savaged and turning to spite. Let him bother with Beth, he thought as jealousy riled his spite. Kilpatrick seemed not to notice Sam’s dark feelings as he pulled the knotted cloth from inside his shirt and untied it, to count out the money he had left and the amount spent on the clothes.
“What we have left here Missus, it aint going to last forever.” he said, holding out the money in the firelight for Mary to see.
Mary nodded, understanding the need to spend what was left wisely.
“What I’m proposing is to find me some work up at the Spitalfields Market tomorrow and have some help from the young ‘un here.”
Here Kilpatrick pointed at Beth.
“I reckons I shall borrow young Beth tomorrow and take her to the market with me. I shall fashion a cloth basket to put on under her skirt which I can fill with some vegetables in me working on the barrows.”
“Can I go?”
Sam made his question more a demand, a challenge.
“In a while’s time, young ‘un. But meantime you have to be the man and look after the Missus here while we’re gone. She’s a poorly woman, what with the coughing fits and all. You have to be the soldier, you understand?” issued Kilpatrick.
Sam said nothing although this time Kilpatrick seemed to sense the boy’s inner anger at not being chosen for any adventure.
“You’ve a fine spirit, young ‘un and there’s no doubting the fire in you. And for that fact I’ll be shaking your hand.”
With that Kilpatrick stood up, ranging high over Sam and leaning down to gravely shake Sam by the hand.
Mary coughed, bringing up blood and wheezed as she fought to stem the fit. Sam, now feeling more the man was quickly there by her side and rubbing at her back.
“You see how it is, young ‘un?” said Kilpatrick to Sam as he spread the blankets out on the ground.
“You have to be the man in all this.”
Sam nodded again and straightened to the service of helping his mother. Mary, having gained her breath smiled secretly at Kilpatrick, understanding the agility of the man’s mind in putting Sam to a new standing.
“Now help her in between these blankets and keep her warm.” instructed the tall man as he put another tarry-block on the fire.
Cutting a piece of cloth, George fashioned a bag, attaching ties to the top.
“Here, Beth.” he said at last. “Lift your skirt and tie this round your waist. That’s it. Hang the bag to the front and drop your skirt. There you see. That’s fine and now there aint a soul as will see the bag. And when it’s full, we’ll tell them as have prying eyes you are with child.”
Beth laughed so hard that she joined her mother in a coughing fit which had Sam moving from one to the other and patting at their backs, the concern showing in his serious dark eyes.
“When you’ve a good passage of air in your lungs, young ‘un, we’ll be away to the market.” said Kilpatrick to Beth.
“And here, young Sam.” he continued. “You get to caring for this club and use it harshly if them Mudlarkers are out for a lark.”
Sam took the club and stood as tall as he could while Mary smiled secretly once again at Kilpatrick.
Kilpatrick nodded and walked away through the crowd with Beth in tow.