Part 15 (1/2)

Galloway was staring at him with a faint smile on his face and William had the feeling he was being mocked. He could not have divined the reason for Galloway's amus.e.m.e.nt accurately, however, for his boss said, 'By the way, Will, I've got a special job fer yer. I've bought an 'orse at the weekend. It's a Cleveland Bay an' I got it fer me trap. That pony I've got is goin' lame a lot an' I'm gettin' rid of it.'

'Yer not sendin' it ter the knacker's yard, are yer, George?' William asked.

His boss laughed. 'No, I've 'ad good use out o' Rusty an' I'm gonna put 'im out ter pasture. This Cleveland stands fifteen 'ands an' it's a lovely-lookin' 'orse. I got it fer a snip an' I want yer ter get it ready fer the trap.'

William glanced quickly at his employer. 'Yer mean it's not been in one before?'

George grinned. 'It 'as, but it kicked the traces. It's a devil, Will, but it's got a look about it. Yer know what I'm talkin' about. We've both been around 'orses all our lives an' we fink we know 'em, but suddenly one comes on the scene an' it quickens yer breath just ter look at it. This Cleveland's just like that. I was standin' at the sales at the weekend an' this bloke drives up in 'is trap. 'E jumped down an' started layin' inter the 'orse wiv 'is whip. Yer know me, I'm the same as you where 'orses are concerned. I 'ate ter see 'em ill-treated. Anyway, I 'ad a few words wiv the driver an' 'e told me that the nag 'ad almost killed 'im on a couple of occasions. He reckoned there was Arab blood in the 'orse an' it wouldn't take ter the trap. It's bin gelded too.'

William felt his interest growing. 'Clevelands are good carriage 'orses as a rule,' he remarked. 'P'raps the bloke didn't know 'ow ter 'andle the 'orse?'

George shook his head. 'The man I'm talking about 'as got a cartage business in Peckham. 'E's bin round 'orses fer years an' 'e said 'e's never known a Cleveland ter act the way this one does. Well, I looked the 'orse over an' I was taken by it. Like I say, it was one o' those 'orses that come along once in a while. It was beautiful-lookin', lean an' frisky. It 'ad a look in its eye too. I couldn't resist it. I made 'im an offer an' the bloke sold it ter me there an' then. 'E's bringin' it round terday. See what yer can do wiv it, Will. I want it in the trap as soon as possible.'

William nodded. 'I'll get Jack Oxford ter clean that small stable. It's better if it's kept away from the ovver 'orses, at least fer the time bein'.'

It was late afternoon when the Cleveland was driven into the yard and was pulled up beside the office. The driver, an elderly man with a ginger beard, stepped down from the trap and immediately untethered the spare horse from the rear, leading it towards William. 'Can I leave you to change them over?' he asked.

William nodded and stood holding the bridle of the spare horse as he watched the man disappear into the office, then he led the nag to the water trough and let it drink its fill before tethering it to a post. The Cleveland stood still in the shafts of the trap, light glinting red in its eyes as it warily watched William approach. He talked quietly to the horse as he sidled up and took hold of its bridle. 'Steady, boy,' he whispered as he patted the horse's high neck and ran his hand down the withers. The horse remained perfectly still while William slowly unbuckled the harness, and then when it was being led out of the shafts it suddenly kicked out sharply with its back legs. Jack Oxford was watching from across the yard. He jumped back nervously. 'That's a wild 'orse, Will,' he remarked.

The yard foreman grinned as he held on to the bridle tightly and led the horse to water. He kept his grip on the loose bridle rope while the horse drank its fill, then as its head came up William instinctively tightened his hand on the rope. His intuition was correct for as the Cleveland turned from the stone trough it reared up and kicked out at the tethered horse. The yard foreman slid his hand along the taut rope until he had hold of its bridle. With soft words and a gentle tap on the horse's neck, he quietened it down before leading it to the small stable. The spare horse had been agitated by the antics of the Cleveland. It bucked as William untied the rope but it offered no resistance when it was led to the trap.

After William had finished buckling up the harness and secured the horse to a hitching-rail, he sauntered over to the small stable and went inside. The Cleveland stood munching at the stall and William was able to look the horse over. It was a bay brown with a small white star on its forehead, all of fifteen hands high and a little on the lean side, he thought. It had a large head and a long, firm neck. The animal's hindquarters were powerful and well rounded, and its legs clean-cut and muscular. It was certainly a fine-looking horse, William conceded as he ran his hand over the withers, but it would need careful handling and training before it could be trusted in a trap.

As he stroked his hand down the animal's flank his fingers came upon several very slight indentations, and a close inspection confirmed his suspicions. The horse had been badly ill-treated at some time with a whip or thong. William gently patted the horse's withers and whispered to it as he sidled along the stall and loosened the bridle rope slightly. When he had made certain that there was enough chaff in the stall trough he eased back and took a look at the horse's hindquarters. From the marks below the hocks and around the pasterns he could see that the horse did not take kindly to the shafts and had damaged itself by kicking out. William shook his head sadly as he stood back and studied the animal. He had seen such signs before and he realised he would have to work hard to gain the animal's confidence if any progress was to be made.

As he walked over to the office, William saw the yard man leaning on his broom. 'I don't want anybody ter go in that end stable, Jack,' he said firmly. 'I'll feed an' water that one.'

Jack nodded enthusiastically, feeling quite relieved. He knew about such devil horses and had very good reason to be wary of such creatures. They had said it was the devil who had got into the horse that kicked the side of his head in.

When the visitor had driven out of the yard, Galloway called his foreman into the office. 'Well, what d'yer fink?' he asked, grinning broadly.

'It's a beauty, but it'll take some time before it's ready fer yer trap,' William replied.

''As it bin raced?' George asked.

William nodded. 'It looks that way. There's lash marks down its flanks an' it's bin flogged. I could tell as I led it ter the trough. Yer'll 'ave ter give me at least a couple o' weeks.'

George nodded. 'Take all the time yer want, Will, an' keep it away from the ovver 'orses. If it kicks out at the Clydesdales, it'll get mangled.'

The Tanner family sat around the table that evening listening to Carrie's bad news as they tucked into their mutton stew which Nellie had fortified heavily with pearl barley and carrots. James was leaning his elbows on the table as he scooped up the broth. He shook his head knowingly when he heard the news. 'What did I tell yer? I knew it,' he remarked, reaching for another hunk of bread and dipping it into the gravy.

''Ave yer got any idea where yer gonna try?' Nellie asked her daughter.

Carrie shook her head. 'I s'pose I'll 'ave ter join the rank at the labour exchange,' she said, moving the spoon around her broth and looking dejected.

'Well, don't let it stop yer eatin',' her father urged, trying to get her to smile.

James looked up from his plate. 'Don't let yer new guv'nor know yer in the suffragettes, fer Gawd's sake,' he said quickly.

Carrie gave him a blinding look as she spooned up her food. 'It's nuffink ter be ashamed of,' she replied indignantly. 'If women 'ad the vote, maybe fings would be different.'

Nellie and William exchanged glances and Danny grinned at Charlie. 'Our guv'nor wants anuvver errand boy. P'raps 'e might take on a gel,' he mumbled, only to receive a sharp kick on the s.h.i.+n from his angry sister.

Charlie gave Carrie a sympathetic smile. 'Maybe yer could get a job in a shop or somefink,' he suggested. 'It'd be a change from workin' in a factory. Or maybe yer could work in one o' those suffragette offices. They take people on full time, don't they?'

Carrie shook her head. 'Yer gotta 'ave an education ter work in one o' those offices. They don't take on workin'-cla.s.s gels. I might be able ter get a job in a shop though,' she added, perking up slightly.

'What about 'Arris's the p.a.w.nbroker's?' Danny quipped. 'Yer don't need much education ter 'and out p.a.w.n tickets.'

'If yer don't shut up an' eat yer tea, I'll box yer ears,' Nellie shouted across the table.

William tried to keep a straight face as he glanced sternly at his youngest son. Danny had grown into a robust young man and his cheeky expression was never more roguish than when he was ribbing his sister or James. Strangely enough, though, Danny rarely got at Charlie. Maybe it was because Charlie totally ignored his spirited teasing, merely smiling and shrugging his shoulders. James on the other hand was easily provoked. He was now in his nineteenth year and considered himself to be a full-grown adult who was not to be trifled with.

'Do as yer told an' eat yer tea,' James chimed in now, wiping the last of his bread around the edge of the plate.

Carrie had left part of her meal. She sat back in her chair, looking a trifle sorry for herself. Danny had been ready to make another quip but was stopped by his father's attempt at a stern look and finished his food quietly.

'By the way, we've got a new 'orse in the yard,' William said quickly in an effort to cheer up his daughter. ''E's a real beauty. Yer can come an' take a look soon, Carrie, if yer want to.'

Her face brightened. It was something she had always loved to do when she was younger and it made her feel sad to think how she had slowly grown out of it, although she still loved to hear her father talk about his charges. 'What is it?' she asked him.

'It's a Cleveland gelding,' he replied. 'Galloway bought 'im fer the trap but 'e's bin ill-treated an' 'e needs ter settle down first.'

''Ow can yer tell it's bin ill-treated?' Danny asked.

'Well, usually yer can see whip-marks on the 'orse's flanks an' yer can tell by 'ow it be'aves,' William explained, warming to the subject. 'Sometimes an 'orse will shy an' buck when yer approach it, especially if yer carryin' a lump o' rope or somefink. Jus' fink what you would do if I whipped yer fer talkin' round the table. Every time I picked up the whip yer'd back away, wouldn't yer?'

Danny grinned widely and Nellie got up from her chair to clear away the plates, realising that her husband was likely to go on for some time now he was on the subject of horses. As she carried the plates into the scullery and filled the enamel bowl with hot water from the copper, she could hear William's deep voice and her children's laughter as they sat around the kitchen table. She ought to feel contented at the happy gathering, she knew, but there was something lurking deep down inside her which made her feel strangely apprehensive and worried for the future.

Chapter Seventeen.

Carrie was feeling a little nervous as she left her house in Page Street on Friday evening and walked through the thickening fog to Fred Bradley's Dining Rooms in Cotton Lane. As she turned into Bacon Street and pa.s.sed the old tenement buildings she heard a baby crying and a woman's angry voice. Carrie wondered how her old school friend Sara was getting on and promised herself that she would call on her very soon. It was quiet and eerie in the riverside streets after the hustle and bustle of the day, and as she crossed into Cotton Lane which ran from the end of Bacon Street down to the river Carrie could see the vague forms of giant cranes looming out of the fog.

It was her father who had told her about the vacancy. He had got the information from Sharkey Morris who often used the dining rooms. Nellie had not been too happy at the thought of her daughter serving meals to carmen but had been persuaded not to worry, and Carrie laughed to herself as she recalled what her father had said. 'It's a sight better than slavin' in a factory, especially the tin bashers,' he had enthused. 'Besides, our carmen use Fred's place all the time an' they'll keep an eye on 'er.'

Carrie reached the shuttered shop which was situated on the corner of the turning overlooking the river. She glanced up at the faded name over the boarded-up window before knocking on the side door. The lane was deserted, and she could hear the swish of water lapping against the sh.o.r.e and the soft murmur of the turning tide. There was the sound of a bolt being drawn and then Fred Bradley was standing in the doorway smiling at her. 'Yer Carrie Tanner, I take it?' he said, standing aside to let her enter.

She followed him into the pa.s.sage and felt the heat of the c.o.ke fire as she entered the small back room. Fred bade her sit beside the fire and planted himself on an upright chair facing her. 'I'm sorry yer 'ad ter drag yerself out on a cold night, missy,' he said. 'I'm kept busy fer most o' the day, especially now Ida's left me in the lurch.'

Carrie smiled. 'It's all right. Me dad wanted ter bring me but it's only five minutes from our 'ouse. 'E told me yer wanted somebody ter wait on the customers?'

Fred Bradley took out his pipe and proceeded to fill it from a leather pouch. 'Ida's bin wiv me fer years but 'er 'usband's took chronic sick an' she's gotta see to 'im night an' day,' he explained. 'They wanted ter put 'im in the infirmary but Ida wouldn't 'ear of it. They never 'ad any children an' they're devoted ter each ovver. Terrible shame really. It's consumption, I fink.'

Carrie took the opportunity to study the man while he was preoccupied with his pipe. He was of about average height, bulky and with wide shoulders. Although his dark wavy hair was streaked with grey his complexion was fresh and his jaw square-boned. His eyes were brown and heavy-browed, and tended to widen as he talked. In between he smiled disarmingly to reveal strong even teeth. Carrie judged him to be in his mid-thirties although his mannerisms made him appear older.

'I never married, yer see,' he went on. 'I took the dinin' rooms over from me parents when they got too old ter manage them. They're both dead now an' I've run the place fer over ten years. Ida used ter take the orders and serve up the food as well as pour the tea. I do all the cookin', which takes most o' me time, but I've got a woman who comes in early in the mornin' ter do the veg an' 'elp me make the meat pies. Yer seem a likely la.s.s so can I ask yer 'ow much yer was expectin' in wages?'