me. I hope there are no syphilitic old goats, because sometimes the doctor’s potions fail and sometimes a pretty face is scabbed, or a narrow waist beginsto swell until it can no longer be concealed, and Tip takes the belly plea away, and who knows where to, but I think I do now. I think it must be ‘down Limehouse way’.
I have learned not to get too fond or attached. There are only two constant things in this house. One is Mrs Hibbert. The other is Tip.
And now, Mrs Hibbert is at my door. I hear the hushing of her veils and the snapping crunching of her feet as they tread the shards of broken glass. She does not ask me why it is there, only murmurs gruffly under her breath, something about Sarah coming up, to sweep the mess, to clean the room. She extends an arm of thin black silk. She caresses my cheek with a silk-gloved hand and her voice is as clear as a tolling bell when she says that I must wash and dress, because we are to walk in Cremorne again.
I don’t answer. I keep looking out of the window.
I am gasping, gasping. I cannot breathe.
ANOTHER LETTER FROM FREDERICK HALL
53 Burlington Row
Tuesday, April 19th 1864
DEAR FRIEND, AUGUSTUS
Forgive the delay in sending news. As you will note from this letter’s address, I have recently up-sticked, as they say, though only the shortest of distances, leaving my lodgings ‘above the shop’ for one of the houses opposite. The intention has been to create more space. You would not believe the growth in trade – as your next remittance will demonstrate!
But far more important is the fact that, within these new walls and without the sad ghosts of memories past, you might feel yourself somewhat more inclined to accept an invitation; for the country mouse to visit the town, when I thought we could make a trip to Cremorne, where, as you will see from the cutting enclosed, a ‘mermaid’ is to be displayed during this coming month of May. I beg you refrain from telling the twins, even though they are well beyond the age when such things could be viewed as ‘actual’. Even so I should like to surprise them. And it is very fitting, do you not think, considering your latest published work? What could be more appropriate!
However, I shall not press this point. Should you choose to decline nothing more will be said and I shall content myself once more with making my annual pilgrimage to the rural splendour of Kingsland House
.
I am, as ever, Your Own True Friend
,
FREDERICK HALL
LILY
So mind all fast young gentlemen, who journey to Cremorne
,
Or any other gardens, or where crinoline is worn
,
Do not propose to wed strange girls, however well they dress
,
Or else like me you perhaps may get in such another mess
,
Be sure you know her station well, before you say you’ll wed her
,
A little care is just as good, as good and a great deal better
.
Final verse of the popular song ‘As Good and a Great Deal Better’
It promised to be a glorious day, though only twenty-four hours before when we’d waited on Leominster station the air had been dreary, drizzling, grey. Not that anything could have dampened our spirits, even if the train was late, the minutes dragging on like hours, during which we had amused ourselves by viewing the posters on platform walls. One was headed up with the words ‘
Times Past
’ and depicted a cart and a shabby horse driven by a curmudgeonly looking old man. (I suppose it was cruel that we giggled so – but that man did look very much like Papa.) The one at its side, ‘
Times Present
’, that showed a gleaming passenger train with great puffs of steam rising up above and the faces of passengers peering out, every one of them young, smiling, gay. To be honest, I couldn’t stop smiling. I was breathless with all the excitement, though as it turned out we might just as well have travelled to London town by cart, for even when the train arrived the journey proved to be dreadfully slow, the engine crawling to a stop at every
I have learned not to get too fond or attached. There are only two constant things in this house. One is Mrs Hibbert. The other is Tip.
And now, Mrs Hibbert is at my door. I hear the hushing of her veils and the snapping crunching of her feet as they tread the shards of broken glass. She does not ask me why it is there, only murmurs gruffly under her breath, something about Sarah coming up, to sweep the mess, to clean the room. She extends an arm of thin black silk. She caresses my cheek with a silk-gloved hand and her voice is as clear as a tolling bell when she says that I must wash and dress, because we are to walk in Cremorne again.
I don’t answer. I keep looking out of the window.
I am gasping, gasping. I cannot breathe.
ANOTHER LETTER FROM FREDERICK HALL
53 Burlington Row
Tuesday, April 19th 1864
DEAR FRIEND, AUGUSTUS
Forgive the delay in sending news. As you will note from this letter’s address, I have recently up-sticked, as they say, though only the shortest of distances, leaving my lodgings ‘above the shop’ for one of the houses opposite. The intention has been to create more space. You would not believe the growth in trade – as your next remittance will demonstrate!
But far more important is the fact that, within these new walls and without the sad ghosts of memories past, you might feel yourself somewhat more inclined to accept an invitation; for the country mouse to visit the town, when I thought we could make a trip to Cremorne, where, as you will see from the cutting enclosed, a ‘mermaid’ is to be displayed during this coming month of May. I beg you refrain from telling the twins, even though they are well beyond the age when such things could be viewed as ‘actual’. Even so I should like to surprise them. And it is very fitting, do you not think, considering your latest published work? What could be more appropriate!
However, I shall not press this point. Should you choose to decline nothing more will be said and I shall content myself once more with making my annual pilgrimage to the rural splendour of Kingsland House
.
I am, as ever, Your Own True Friend
,
FREDERICK HALL
LILY
So mind all fast young gentlemen, who journey to Cremorne
,
Or any other gardens, or where crinoline is worn
,
Do not propose to wed strange girls, however well they dress
,
Or else like me you perhaps may get in such another mess
,
Be sure you know her station well, before you say you’ll wed her
,
A little care is just as good, as good and a great deal better
.
Final verse of the popular song ‘As Good and a Great Deal Better’
It promised to be a glorious day, though only twenty-four hours before when we’d waited on Leominster station the air had been dreary, drizzling, grey. Not that anything could have dampened our spirits, even if the train was late, the minutes dragging on like hours, during which we had amused ourselves by viewing the posters on platform walls. One was headed up with the words ‘
Times Past
’ and depicted a cart and a shabby horse driven by a curmudgeonly looking old man. (I suppose it was cruel that we giggled so – but that man did look very much like Papa.) The one at its side, ‘
Times Present
’, that showed a gleaming passenger train with great puffs of steam rising up above and the faces of passengers peering out, every one of them young, smiling, gay. To be honest, I couldn’t stop smiling. I was breathless with all the excitement, though as it turned out we might just as well have travelled to London town by cart, for even when the train arrived the journey proved to be dreadfully slow, the engine crawling to a stop at every
Similar Books
