Read Online The Urchin's Song by Rita Bradshaw - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Rita Bradshaw
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being something of a character among folk who were all characters in their own way. Stamp was another one. ‘’Tis the fair Vera.’ Cyril Stamp was a little roly-poly figure of a man, his shape made the more incongruous by the ancient swallow-tail coat and pork-pie hat he wore on all occasions. ‘Never mind the bitter chill of an unkind winter outside, it is summer in me heart now I’ve set eyes on the fair Vera.’
‘Oh, stop your blatherin’.’ Vera sniffed loudly, but Josie knew her friend was trying to keep a straight face. ‘I’m lookin’ for a few things for these two.’ She indicated Josie and a wide-eyed Gertie. ‘An’ none of your rubbish mind, I want decent stuff.’
‘Vera, Vera, Vera.’ The little man put his hand to his heart, his expression pained. ‘You cut me to the quick, lass. Aye, you do. Have you ever known me sell rubbish in me life?’
‘Aye, I have, to them as are daft enough,’ Vera returned smartly as she began to rootle amongst the heaped clothing after motioning with her hand for Josie to do the same.
‘Do good to them as despitefully use you, as the Good Book says.’ Cyril wasn’t about to let Vera have the last word, winking at Gertie as he spoke and making the child giggle. ‘Here, cast your lovely eyes, eyes that would make a man leave hearth an’ home for sure, on this little lot.’ From beneath the stall he drew out an orange box. ‘Come from a nice place near West Park, an’ if I remember rightly, the bonny wife had a couple of bairns about these ones’ ages.’
He did remember rightly, and Josie had to stifle a gasp of delight as numerous items of underwear - all seemingly as new - and several plain but good frocks were revealed, along with a thick coat in a dove-grey tweedy material that looked to be her size and was just beautiful.
‘Hmm.’ Vera flicked at the items with a critical finger. ‘Not bad, but a bit shabby round the edges.’ She was playing the game, and Josie, Cyril and Vera were all aware of it, but protocol had to be maintained before serious haggling commenced. ‘Is that the best you can do, then?’
‘The best?’ Cyril raised his eyes heavenwards, apparently wounded beyond words, and then he smiled as Gertie, shyly stroking one of the dresses with the tip of her finger, said, ‘I think they’re bonny.’
‘A lady after me own heart. Here, hinny’ - he drew a small slab of hard toffee out of his pocket - ‘I was just wonderin’ what to do with this stickjaw afore you come.’
Ten minutes later Josie and Gertie were the possessors of vests, drawers, petticoats and two dresses each, along with the grey coat for Josie and a smart hat to match it. The whole lot had come to twelve shillings, which seemed an inordinate amount to Josie, but which meant - Cyril had mournfully assured them - he wouldn’t be eating all week, the great loss he’d had to incur.
‘They’re good stuff, really good stuff, lass,’ Vera had murmured once they were making their way into High Street East, for the walk to Central Station further along in High Street West. ‘An’ kept real nice. You want to give the right idea when you’re lookin’ for work, now then, an’ these are a cut above.’
Josie nodded, her arms tight round the brown-paper package containing the clothes. She would pay Vera back every penny but she knew better than to mention it now.
Although the beautiful clock-tower and brick façade of the station on the High Street side was familiar to Josie, she had never ventured inside, and now, as she accompanied Vera and Gertie into the building, her first impression was of the height of the arched ceiling. It seemed to rise up and up, and it was when she was turning round in a circle to admire it fully that she became aware of a small figure darting out of view outside.
Jimmy. She glanced at Vera who was pointing out the weighing machine to an entranced Gertie, and the other machine which apparently enabled the user to punch out
‘Oh, stop your blatherin’.’ Vera sniffed loudly, but Josie knew her friend was trying to keep a straight face. ‘I’m lookin’ for a few things for these two.’ She indicated Josie and a wide-eyed Gertie. ‘An’ none of your rubbish mind, I want decent stuff.’
‘Vera, Vera, Vera.’ The little man put his hand to his heart, his expression pained. ‘You cut me to the quick, lass. Aye, you do. Have you ever known me sell rubbish in me life?’
‘Aye, I have, to them as are daft enough,’ Vera returned smartly as she began to rootle amongst the heaped clothing after motioning with her hand for Josie to do the same.
‘Do good to them as despitefully use you, as the Good Book says.’ Cyril wasn’t about to let Vera have the last word, winking at Gertie as he spoke and making the child giggle. ‘Here, cast your lovely eyes, eyes that would make a man leave hearth an’ home for sure, on this little lot.’ From beneath the stall he drew out an orange box. ‘Come from a nice place near West Park, an’ if I remember rightly, the bonny wife had a couple of bairns about these ones’ ages.’
He did remember rightly, and Josie had to stifle a gasp of delight as numerous items of underwear - all seemingly as new - and several plain but good frocks were revealed, along with a thick coat in a dove-grey tweedy material that looked to be her size and was just beautiful.
‘Hmm.’ Vera flicked at the items with a critical finger. ‘Not bad, but a bit shabby round the edges.’ She was playing the game, and Josie, Cyril and Vera were all aware of it, but protocol had to be maintained before serious haggling commenced. ‘Is that the best you can do, then?’
‘The best?’ Cyril raised his eyes heavenwards, apparently wounded beyond words, and then he smiled as Gertie, shyly stroking one of the dresses with the tip of her finger, said, ‘I think they’re bonny.’
‘A lady after me own heart. Here, hinny’ - he drew a small slab of hard toffee out of his pocket - ‘I was just wonderin’ what to do with this stickjaw afore you come.’
Ten minutes later Josie and Gertie were the possessors of vests, drawers, petticoats and two dresses each, along with the grey coat for Josie and a smart hat to match it. The whole lot had come to twelve shillings, which seemed an inordinate amount to Josie, but which meant - Cyril had mournfully assured them - he wouldn’t be eating all week, the great loss he’d had to incur.
‘They’re good stuff, really good stuff, lass,’ Vera had murmured once they were making their way into High Street East, for the walk to Central Station further along in High Street West. ‘An’ kept real nice. You want to give the right idea when you’re lookin’ for work, now then, an’ these are a cut above.’
Josie nodded, her arms tight round the brown-paper package containing the clothes. She would pay Vera back every penny but she knew better than to mention it now.
Although the beautiful clock-tower and brick façade of the station on the High Street side was familiar to Josie, she had never ventured inside, and now, as she accompanied Vera and Gertie into the building, her first impression was of the height of the arched ceiling. It seemed to rise up and up, and it was when she was turning round in a circle to admire it fully that she became aware of a small figure darting out of view outside.
Jimmy. She glanced at Vera who was pointing out the weighing machine to an entranced Gertie, and the other machine which apparently enabled the user to punch out
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