THE DEPRIVED... Chapter 3...Part 1.

A continuation of my book.

CHAPTER THREE.
BETH.

 

In deprivation, it’s a strange case that death only sharpens the mind of those who live close to poverty that the mind becomes more concerned on the business of finding ways of surviving and, in this way, Beth seemed to spend more time worrying about Sam who did not talk much, his face dark with thoughts and inner rage and the idea of finding work which would enhance their welfare.

It was three days after her mother’s death that Beth spoke quietly to Kilpatrick as Sam lay sleeping.
“I know me and Sam are a drain on you and I reckon I should be helping out with doing some work. I thought I might try some mudlarking. I don’t mind the stink and filth if it gives a help to you."
“Lord’s sakes, young ‘un. I aint in such drift as to ask that you work in such dire stress. No, not in that way. I promised your mother I would take to keeping you and young Sam in good condition. I reckons you ought to come back up the market with me tomorrow’s afternoon and look to securing ourselves some work.” answered Kilpatrick.
“But what about Sam?” asked Beth, looking back to where Sam lay moaning in his sleep.
“I’ll speak in kind to John Cutter back there, him as sells the gin. He’ll keep a tight eye on the young ‘un while we are gone. And I shall have a talk to him before we leaves, giving him an understanding of a man’s responsibility.”

 

The next afternoon, Kilpatrick and Beth set out for Spitalfields Market, leaving Sam to look after things while they were away. Kilpatrick spoke to Sam regarding his responsibility though he did not mention his talk with John Cutter, leaving the boy unaware that his care was being catered for. Kilpatrick had sent Beth up to Old Levistien’s shop on a pretext of looking at some clothes while he talked with Sam. Sam had sat with his head down, scowling at the ground as the tall man spoke in a soft but urgent way.
“Look young ‘un, I ask that you are in listening mood to me. This is man-to-man talk in a matter of importance. Me and Beth has to go up the market for working arrangements, to earn a living and for firewood. It’s to you we look for in taking charge of our place here and to keep them Mudlarkers away from our goods and chattels. So I look to the man in you. Is it in your mettle to do this?”
Sam looked up at Kilpatrick as he spoke, the pain in the young boy’s eyes plain to see but at the same time there was a new metal, a fierce strength which made the boy appear older and more mature.
“I will do as you ask.” said Sam.
“Take this knife, young ‘un.” said Kilpatrick, taking the knife from his pocket and handing it to Sam. “It’s what your mother give to me a while back. She asked I give the knife to you when I feels you is old enough to know the mettle’s virtue and I reckons the time is right.”
Sam took the knife and opened the blade, examining its sharpness.
“I’ll be the man.” he said as he snapped the blade shut.

 

In the marketplace that afternoon, Beth filled the bag beneath her skirt with four potatoes, some carrots and a parsnip. Kilpatrick managed to pull five barrows back from the market to their lock-up and he smiled as they made their way back to the archway and spoke in high hopes of a better living.
“Lord spare us this way of living.” he had said aloud as he knelt down to break up the empty crates he had collected and place the wood into a potato sack. “And I see a way of upping our qualities.” he had added as he hefted the sack up on his shoulder and began to walk.
“I’m glad to see you smile.” said Beth. “What notion do you have that you might share.”
Kilpatrick strode his wide steps, his mind thoughtful.
“Perhaps in a while, young ‘un, will I share me thoughts. But in this time, it’s me own private thoughts which is pleasing me.” he answered after a while.