Alley Urchin (37 page)

Seeing the warmth and joy of such a reunion, Nelly also was softly crying. And when she sniffled noisily, juggling the child in her arms in order to wipe her face with the cuff of her jacket, Emma drew away from Marlow, saying to him, ‘I’ve brought you something, Marlow . . . something very precious.’ She smiled at the puzzlement on his face, as she reached over to collect the child from Nelly’s arms. Then, uncovering the tiny face, she held the small squirming bundle out to him, saying softly, ‘This is Bill. Take him, Marlow, for
he’s your son
.’ Marlow’s dark eyes grew wide, going from Emma to the child and gazing at the infant for a long painful moment, then the tears started to rain down his face and a small cry escaped him as he cradled the boy to his chest.

‘He’s beautiful, isn’t he?’ Emma murmured. ‘And so like you.’ She reached out to touch Marlow’s face, which was still bent in fascination towards that tiny being, his own son! Now as he looked up to meet Emma’s loving gaze, his dark tearful eyes held wonder. ‘God bless you, Emma,’ he said in a voice filled with awe, ‘I have all that a man could ask for.’ He placed an arm around Emma and drew her close, and for a moment there was no need for words.

From a short distance away, a girl of some sixteen years watched the tender scene unfold; black-eyed she was, with long loose hair dark about her narrow shoulders and a pinched hungry look in her features. She was painfully thin, and clad in a calf-length threadbare dress, covered by a brown shawl. There was a sadness in her eyes as she watched, and loneliness in her voice when she clutched the fair-haired toddler in her arms. ‘See that, sweetheart,’ she told the child, ‘happy, ain’t they, eh?’ She kissed the child and pointed its attention towards Emma and the little group. ‘That’s a
proper
family . . . not like you and me. Oh, but at least you’ve got a proper mammy, eh? And I love you more than life . . . so, you’re better off than
I
am! Y’see, Sal, darlin’ . . . I never had no mammy, nor daddy neither. Oh, you got a daddy sure enough, but that Jack-the-lad lived up to his name right enough, didn’t he, eh? Cleared off and left the pair of us! Still, I expect he’ll turn up again . . . like he’s done afore.’

Molly chuckled as she swept the child on to the bony part of her hip. ‘Hold on tight, lovely,’ she told its pretty trusting face, ‘’cause we’ve a crust to earn . . . aye, and happen a bit o’ fast footwork to do and all!’ She was still chuckling when she passed within an arm’s reach of Emma and her family. Molly had pondered on relieving the pockets of the dark-haired gent, but she decided against it, telling the little girl, who was presently twisting its mammy’s thick black hair round its fingers, ‘It’d be a shame ter spoil such a lovely reunion, wouldn’t it? Besides which . . . the gent looks fit and able enough ter catch me, and we can’t be having that, can we, eh?’ Her dark eyes swept the milling people, passengers, workers, visitors and seamen alike, until eventually they came to rest on a bent old gentleman in top hat and long-coat. He carried a walking stick and wore that particularly arrogant and surly expression which characterised most wealthy toffs. ‘I reckon we can outrun
that
old geezer.’ Molly chucked little Sal under the chin, tucking her in tight and pulling the shawl taut about her. After which, and with her eyes kept fixed on the old gent, she went into the throng of people and disappeared from sight.

‘Well now, ain’t we the posh ones?’ Nelly climbed into the carriage and turned about to collect the child from Emma’s arms. ‘When yer think, Emma gal . . . how, so long ago, the two on us were packed off from England as branded criminals . . . outcasts in society . . . and look at us now, eh? . . . I’m buggered if we ain’t come back like a pair o’ queens!’ She winked at Marlow, who handed the luggage up to the carriage driver and was greatly amused by Nelly’s forthright manner. He turned his dark smiling eyes to Emma, who smiled back and blushed a little, as she prepared to follow Nelly into the carriage.

Of a sudden, there was a hue and cry, with some kind of skirmish going on a little way along the quayside. ‘What the bleedin’ ’ell’s that?’ asked Nelly, leaning out of the carriage door and gawping towards the source of the noise in the distance. ‘Well . . . will yer look at that! It ain’t but a ragamuffin got herself in trouble!’

By this time, Emma had come to stand beside Marlow and the carriage driver, as everyone’s attention was drawn by the sight of a strapping bobby with a red angry face, and a great deal to say to the girl beside him, a dark-eyed girl with an infant clinging to her. ‘You’ve been warned before,’ he was saying in a breathless voice, ‘but this time you’ve been caught red-handed, my girl. You’ll soon find out that the law doesn’t take kindly to pickpockets!’

Emma turned, curious, as the carriage driver gave a low chuckle. ‘I fail to see anything amusing in a young girl having to resort to thievery!’ she said, in a disapproving voice. ‘Why the poor thing can’t be above fifteen or sixteen . . . and she has a child to look after.’ She turned to Marlow. ‘Can’t we do something to help her?’ she asked, looking up at him with concern.

Before Marlow could reply, the carriage driver had something else to say. ‘Don’t you worry your pretty head about yon lass. She’s a quick-witted one is that, and I’ll tell you some’at else, lady . . . that there bobby, as big and forceful as he is,
he
won’t hold her!’ He shook his head and chuckled aloud. ‘A whole army wouldn’t hold that one! Oh, I’ve seen the lass before, many a time . . . here at the docks and wherever a busy crowd might gather. She ain’t no fool . . . and she slides a gent’s wallet from his person like nothing I’ve ever seen before. It’s a pleasure to watch the lass at work . . . though I keeps my own wallet well and truly safe when she’s around, I can tell you.’

No sooner had he finished speaking than there came a shout and the sound of running feet. Emma was astonished to see that the girl had broken free of the bobby and was heading straight towards them, the child tucked tight into her hip and, judging by the broad grin on its face, thinking the whole thing to be a wonderful adventure.

The bobby was in close pursuit, blowing his whistle and growing more red-faced with every step, while the girl ran like the wind, with various do-gooders and would-be heroes grabbing at her as she skilfully dodged them. For a minute, Emma could see the girl’s face clearly, and she was greatly moved by it. Why, she’s lovely, Emma thought, seeing how strong and proud the girl’s features were. Of a sudden, Molly’s dark eyes were attracted by Emma. She smiled and winked, then was quickly lost to sight, leaving Emma with a warm feeling, and a sense of admiration.

‘Who is she?’ Emma asked of the carriage driver, for her curiosity was greatly aroused.

‘Dunno, lady,’ came the matter-of-fact reply, ‘just an urchin . . . and Lord knows, the alleys is full o’ the blighters. Cut your throat for sixpence, some of ’em would, but
that one
. . . I dunno. Just an urchin, like I said. We’ll not see her round these parts again though . . . not now she’s had her collar felt . . . you can depend on that! Don’t you give it another thought, ’cause her kind can take care o’ themselves, believe me.’

In the carriage, with Nelly seated opposite, her son in her arms and her beloved Marlow by her side, Emma thought how very fortunate she was. There had been times during her life when it seemed all hope of true happiness had gone. Times when she had despaired and been wretched. Times when only the thought of revenge had kept her going. She had not forgotten how those she trusted had deserted her when she was most in need of their help. Nor had she forgotten that her dear father had entrusted his daughter and his entire life’s work to Caleb Crowther, who had betrayed that trust. What kind of man was he, Emma asked herself, who would see his own niece transported, and not lift a finger to help? And her father’s hard-earned business – what of that? In all these years, there had been no word from her uncle regarding her father’s assets. But Emma had learned the art of patience. She could be patient a while longer, because there were other matters more close to her heart that took precedence. She had every intention of confronting Caleb Crowther, because there were many questions she must ask of him. Questions which demanded answers, without which Emma knew she would never truly have peace of mind. But, for now, Emma dismissed these disturbing thoughts from her mind.
Nothing
must be allowed to mar the joy of her homecoming. At last she really was home, with her man by her side, and her family about her. At this point in her thoughts, Emma recalled what Nelly had said earlier, that they ‘were packed off from England as branded criminals . . . outcasts in society’. And oh, how true that was, Emma thought now as she relived the awful experience in her mind. Above all else, the greatest horror had been the tragic loss of her first-born. She had her family about her now, yes that was true, thank God, but how truly complete it would have been if only her daughter was here beside them.

Sensing that Emma was lost in some deep private place, Marlow leaned his dark head down towards her. ‘Are you happy, my love?’ he murmured.

‘Oh, yes . . . yes.’ Emma gazed up at this man whom she would always adore, and her heart was brimming over. ‘If only you knew,’ she told him with tearful eyes. ‘Oh, Marlow, if only you knew how very happy I am.’ When he clasped her hand in his and tenderly brushed his lips against her forehead, Emma gazed down at the quiet face of their son. Even in the joy he brought her, there was a sadness in Emma’s heart which would not be denied, for in his dark eyes and in that rich dark hair that was so like Marlow’s, she saw another face, that of a new-born daughter. Emma tried to imagine how that tiny girl might have grown into a woman. Would she have the ways and manner of herself, she wondered, or would she be more like Marlow?

Realising the futility of remembering and tormenting herself about what was gone, Emma shook all thoughts of her first-born from her mind. She was glad that Marlow had learned nothing of what had happened, because, at least, he would be saved the heartache which knowing would surely bring.

Somehow, Nelly sensed that Emma was reproaching herself for the past, and, bending forward, she put her hand over Emma’s, saying in a soft whisper, ‘It’s all over now, me darlin’ . . . it’s all over.’

Emma smiled at her, leaning into the curve of Marlow’s loving arm. ‘I know,’ she said gratefully, ‘bless your heart, Nelly, I know.’ If only Emma had known also that she had been within touching distance of her ‘lost’ daughter, and even her first grandchild, how wonderfully complete her happiness would have been.

But is it not written that if we believe and if our faith is strong enough, then all things will come to pass.