Read Online The Petticoat Men by Barbara Ewing - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Barbara Ewing
Tags: Fiction, Historical
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the Prince of Wales in a certain way that promised much.
And knelt before him.
To – among certain other things that pleased him – undo his boots.
6
I LAY WIDE awake after I first started writing all that stuff, about Ma and me and Billy – our life. That was all I cared to write. Some things are just our business.
But – oh… well…—
Well, I missed out some things. But I knew I would have to write at least one more bit down. Because of Freddie. I dont really want to write this next bit, it’s my private story.
But also it’s about Frederick William Park. One of the Gentlemen in Female Attire. So I put my shawl around my nightdress and lit the lamp again and went back to sit by Hortense with her big painted eyes.
When I spewed that time when the man smoked all those cigars in the carriage when we went to see them acting in Clapham, I was pregnant. I was seventeen by then, but should’ve known better, me, course I should’ve, because I’d tried and tried to get a baby when I was younger and I didn’t, so I thought I couldn’t. I have to keep explaining in case you’re getting the wrong picture, I’m not stupid , I’ve just got something wrong with my foot that’s all, that hasn’t stopped me having all sorts of adventures in my life. Neither however am I a crippled whore, and nor was our house at 13 Wakefield-street a bordello. And I hadn’t fallen pregnant when I’d so wanted to, so I thought I wasn’t going to fall pregnant at all in my life. Well then.
Ronald Duggan had a room at 13 Wakefield-street. Ronald Duggan. He worked at the railways and kept odd hours because of bringing a train back from Liverpool or wherever. He actually drove a train, that was his work, and one day he took me all the way to Birmingham and back again, it was wonderful, you should’ve seen that engine with all the steam puffing out like big white clouds, and the coal to heap on to the fire to make the engine go blazing, and the chuffing huffing sound as we raced along – Ronald said sixty miles an hour, easy , well that was the fastest speed my body had ever, ever been – oh it was a lovely exciting adventure, rushing past the country. I wished I could have stayed on the train for ever, the bell ringing, people crowding on at all the different stations, other people waving from the roads and the fields. Ronald had put me in a first-class compartment (with the guard knowing), I wore gloves and one of my nicest hats, and waved to people all day, even Ma and Billy were impressed when I told them all about it, for when you live in the centre of London you dont have much call to go on a train, people come to London, but we’re already here, in our funny lovely old city.
London’s where me and Billy was born and our Ma and Pa too, he was a stage carpenter and painter (and magician we called him), he built rooms and mountains and rooftops on stage and he painted big white clouds that he could make blow across from one side to the other. And he always had this one particular idea: always he wanted to make real doors and windows on stage, doors that opened and shut, not pretend painted ones. But the theatre managers always said the doors would only get stuck, something about the way the scenery was hung, so our beloved Pa was dead before proper doors got used on stage.
But we have seen real doors now, Ma and me and Billy went to the Prince of Wales Royal Theatre to see this new play with ‘real doors’ – Ma knew the manager of the theatre and he specially gave us tickets to a performance because of knowing our Pa and we sat there in the audience and saw doors opening and shutting, and a blind going up and down at the window, and everyone clapped and clapped at it all being so lifelike. But then sure enough, after the interval, one of the doors did get stuck, with an actress trying to get out, she’d said goodbye to the others and she was rattling the doorknob over and over and the other actors who were on stage
And knelt before him.
To – among certain other things that pleased him – undo his boots.
6
I LAY WIDE awake after I first started writing all that stuff, about Ma and me and Billy – our life. That was all I cared to write. Some things are just our business.
But – oh… well…—
Well, I missed out some things. But I knew I would have to write at least one more bit down. Because of Freddie. I dont really want to write this next bit, it’s my private story.
But also it’s about Frederick William Park. One of the Gentlemen in Female Attire. So I put my shawl around my nightdress and lit the lamp again and went back to sit by Hortense with her big painted eyes.
When I spewed that time when the man smoked all those cigars in the carriage when we went to see them acting in Clapham, I was pregnant. I was seventeen by then, but should’ve known better, me, course I should’ve, because I’d tried and tried to get a baby when I was younger and I didn’t, so I thought I couldn’t. I have to keep explaining in case you’re getting the wrong picture, I’m not stupid , I’ve just got something wrong with my foot that’s all, that hasn’t stopped me having all sorts of adventures in my life. Neither however am I a crippled whore, and nor was our house at 13 Wakefield-street a bordello. And I hadn’t fallen pregnant when I’d so wanted to, so I thought I wasn’t going to fall pregnant at all in my life. Well then.
Ronald Duggan had a room at 13 Wakefield-street. Ronald Duggan. He worked at the railways and kept odd hours because of bringing a train back from Liverpool or wherever. He actually drove a train, that was his work, and one day he took me all the way to Birmingham and back again, it was wonderful, you should’ve seen that engine with all the steam puffing out like big white clouds, and the coal to heap on to the fire to make the engine go blazing, and the chuffing huffing sound as we raced along – Ronald said sixty miles an hour, easy , well that was the fastest speed my body had ever, ever been – oh it was a lovely exciting adventure, rushing past the country. I wished I could have stayed on the train for ever, the bell ringing, people crowding on at all the different stations, other people waving from the roads and the fields. Ronald had put me in a first-class compartment (with the guard knowing), I wore gloves and one of my nicest hats, and waved to people all day, even Ma and Billy were impressed when I told them all about it, for when you live in the centre of London you dont have much call to go on a train, people come to London, but we’re already here, in our funny lovely old city.
London’s where me and Billy was born and our Ma and Pa too, he was a stage carpenter and painter (and magician we called him), he built rooms and mountains and rooftops on stage and he painted big white clouds that he could make blow across from one side to the other. And he always had this one particular idea: always he wanted to make real doors and windows on stage, doors that opened and shut, not pretend painted ones. But the theatre managers always said the doors would only get stuck, something about the way the scenery was hung, so our beloved Pa was dead before proper doors got used on stage.
But we have seen real doors now, Ma and me and Billy went to the Prince of Wales Royal Theatre to see this new play with ‘real doors’ – Ma knew the manager of the theatre and he specially gave us tickets to a performance because of knowing our Pa and we sat there in the audience and saw doors opening and shutting, and a blind going up and down at the window, and everyone clapped and clapped at it all being so lifelike. But then sure enough, after the interval, one of the doors did get stuck, with an actress trying to get out, she’d said goodbye to the others and she was rattling the doorknob over and over and the other actors who were on stage
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