THE DEPRIVED... Chapter 2... Part 30.

A continuation of my book.

Mary lay quiet, her face almost white as her blue eyes closed against the pain. Beth had been busy and having lit the fire was making a meal from the scraps left over from the previous night’s meal when Kilpatrick came back with Sam. Sam bubbled over with chatter about the gangs of boys who stole children and of his time spent in the market.
“Do you know, Beth!” he had exclaimed excitedly. “There’s bad boys afoot who steal the likes of us children and put them to the works of Mudlarking, like those who live around this place, those who hide in the cracks and holes of the arch walls and come out at night to steal!”
His voice became so excited in its telling, his eyes so wide and round that Beth laughed heartedly, urging Sam into more telling. His excited voice woke Mary up from her sleep and she held at her chest as the coughing began. She cried out in pain as Beth rushed to her attendance. Sam stopped talking to stare in consternation at his mother’s struggle to breath.
“Come on, Sam.” said Kilpatrick gently.
He took the boy by the arm.
“Let’s go in the watch of them who play dice over yonder.”
Sam agreed readily to move away from his mother’s pain and walked with Kilpatrick to where the men knelt on the ground, taking it in turns to cup then shake and roll the dice.

 

That night Mary smiled at Beth once more then died.
“She’s asleep now, God rest her soul.” said Kilpatrick as he knelt and pulled the blanket up over Mary’s face.
“Take the young ‘un for a walk Beth while I take care of your mother. I need to put her to an eternal rest in His care.”
Sam began crying bitterly and Beth put a comforting arm around him, leading him away beyond the archway to where both sat on the kerbside and cried their hearts and minds out.

 

Kilpatrick carefully wrapped Mary’s body in the blanket and carried her through the streets until he reached the steps which lead down between the Wharves, climbing down till the waters of the River Thames lapped in full tide. Removing the blanket he bent and kissed the white cheek then slipped the body into the water, watching as it was slowly taken by the tide and vanished beneath the muddy water.
“Lord rest you, Missus. They’ll find you sooner or later and put you properly to rest” he whispered before turning and climbing back up the steps.

 

William Tuppney earned a living along with his young helper George Hopping by rowing out into the River Thames each morning at low tide and seeking any bodies which would have been drowned and washed up against the lower walls of the dockside. It was often the case there might be a gold ring on the finger or a piece of clothing worth a penny or two. The River Thames might always give a living to those who lived by offering up the dead.
“Here’s another one floating, George. It looks to be gone past a week or more. I’ll hook it in and put it in the boat with the others. That’s seven bodies brought up in two days of counting and more for the lime pit up on the heath.” said the river-man as he brought the body in on the pike and dragged it to shore.
“This one is a woman, not very old, don’t you think, William?”
“Gawd rest her soul.” replied William, crossing himself.
“Still, young or old, child or grown, each body will get us a half-penny from them as wants the river clean from rotting bodies.” said George, pulling in the body on his pike.
“Aint it the truth.” affirmed William, his eyes searching the grey of the river once again.

 

“She’s at peace now, young ‘uns.” said Kilpatrick quietly.
Beth and Sam lay together under the blankets as he spoke.
“I found me a tidy spot twixt two apple trees up on a high field and there it was as I laid her in comfort’s peace. I spoke a prayer on your behalf and me own, asking for God’s mercy and there I buried her.”
“Will you show us the place?” asked Beth.
“That I can. I shall show you, young Beth, but in a while’s time. Let the Missus lay till her soul is taken to heaven and then I’ll show both of you young ‘uns the lie of it.” offered Kilpatrick, crossing his fingers behind his back.
Sam turned over onto his stomach.
“It was them women who made her ill.” he said, his voice muffled by the blanket.
“What women?” asked Kilpatrick, mystified.
Sam turned over again to look up at the arched ceiling.
“The w****s who take to the streets after dark! The ones who used to be her friends till she took ill. They’re the ones who turned their backs on her.” he said darkly.
“No, young ‘un, they were not to blame as to what did take her. It was the consumptive spirit as took her.” said Kilpatrick softly, but Sam was not listening.
Sam had turned over once more, his face buried into the blanket with his mind elsewhere. Kilpatrick left the children alone in their grief, wandering up to the market and keeping busy with his work. He was not sure what he was supposed to do and how he was to earn the money which could feed the three of them. The only answer would be to have both of the children find work of some sort themselves, although they would need time to get over the death of their mother.