Read Online The Lights of London by Gilda O'Neill - Free Book Online Page A

at least it was a roof over our heads. Any odd jobs on the farm, Mum’d do ’em. And if there wasn’t any, she’d sell bits and pieces around the cottage doors. She used to get a right earful from some of the cottagers, mind. They didn’t take kindly to a woman with a baby on her hip and no ring on her finger.’
    ‘It must have been hard,’ said Kitty, trying to understand.
    ‘No, not all the time. Some of it was a laugh, like when she helped out in the Romford alehouses of a market day. She was right popular there. Used to give the customers a song while she worked. Lovely singing voice she had.’
    ‘Can you sing?’
    Tibs snorted with laughter. ‘Ever heard a cats’ chorus? Anyway,’ she went on, ‘one day she was serving in the Golden Lion and she caught the eye of one of the wagoners. He took a right shine to her. Told her that with a beautiful face like hers and with that voice she could make a good living up in the big city. Said she’d love it up there, he did. And that all the lights made it like the middle of the day even at midnight, and that all the streets was paved with gold. Even said he’d give her a ride up there in his cart, if she fancied it.’
    ‘So that’s how you got here?’
    ‘Not exactly. When Mum turned up the next morning,with me in tow, he couldn’t take her with him after all, could he?’ Tibs smiled bleakly. ‘Another bloke what let her down ’cos of me. But by then, Mum was right set on the idea of seeing all them bright lights, so she decided we’d walk. Well, to be truthful, she carried me most of the way, ’cos like I said, I was only a little nipper. But I’ll always remember it. As soon as me gran was asleep we crept out of the cottage and sneaked by the back of the cow byre so’s the farmer’s wife wouldn’t see us from the farmhouse. Me mum reckoned it was ’cos she was such a good worker and the farmer’s wife wouldn’t have liked the idea of losing her. But once I got older and wiser I reckon she’d had it away with some gear from the farm.’ Tibs winked. ‘Just in case, like. Well, it had just got dark, and she was telling me how we was going on this big adventure and how I wasn’t to make any noise.’
    Kitty nodded, drawn into the story.
    ‘We went on for what felt like a really long time, and I was really tired and moaning. So Mum said we should stop for a little sleep. Know what we did?’
    She waited for Kitty to shake her head.
    ‘We climbed over this stile and spent the rest of the night cuddled up in a big sweet haystack. Like a pair of little field-mice we was. I always think of me mum when I smell a wagon of new-mown hay.’
    She hesitated, then pinned on a smile. ‘It took a few days for me to realise we weren’t ever going back to me gran’s. And that, Kitty, my dear, is the true story of how Miss Tibs Tyler, a country girl by birth, grew up to be a genuine cockney sparrow.’
    ‘And you liked it, being up in London?’
    ‘At first. ’Cos me mum was with me. She used to make me laugh. But then, when I was about seven she buggered off and left me.’
    ‘She left you all alone?’
    ‘Yeah.’
    ‘How did you manage?’
    Tibs shrugged, dismissing the question. ‘I’ve always been a chirpy little thing, me. Things have to be really bad to get me down.’
    ‘But how did you live?’
    ‘Well, once I’d fought my way into getting a decent pitch along the shore, I tried my hand at mud-larking. That was all right for a while.’
    ‘Mud-larking?’
    ‘Underfed kids and battered old women toshing for driftwood; raking along the banks at low tide for coal, bits of rope and lumps of old metal. Picking up anything you can sell to the junk dealers.’
    ‘Wasn’t it dangerous by the river?’
    ‘Sometimes, yeah. But after a few years of getting by and running wild with a gang of young hooligans down there I decided I’d had enough of it anyway. Thought it was time I got a proper business.’
    ‘But you were still only a