which was littered with paperwork.
He pulled the chair over to the table and sat.
‘I’m grateful to you for looking after Evie like you did,’ Ma said, pouring them both a liberal measure of rum. ‘Not many would have come to her rescue.’
‘Oh that’s not so, Ma,’ he protested modestly. ‘Any gentleman would have done likewise, I’m sure.’
She gave a pig-like snort of derision, which Mick sensed was personally directed at him rather than the inanity of his remark. He would need to take a different tack, he realised, if he were to find favour with Ma Tebbutt, charm was obviously not enough.
‘To be honest with you,’ he admitted, ‘if I’d known the fellow had a knife I wouldn’t have called him up at all. That poor lass would be down there now, raped and beaten to a pulp, I fear.’
He was rewarded with a cackle of delight, which pleased him. He knew how to play Ma Tebbutt now. She enjoyed a dose of the downright truth, and he’d be more than happy to oblige – within reason, of course.
‘Cheers,’ she said and raising her mug she drank.
Following her example, Mick took a healthy draught and the effect was instantaneous. He nearly gagged as the rough rum seared his throat and the fumes brought tears to his eyes. As his preference was ale, he rarely drank hard liquor.
‘I could do with a chappie like you around here,’ Ma said, the rum having no apparent effect upon her at all, ‘a chappie who has his wits about him. Since Sid’s gone, some of the men take advantage of my girls.’ She downed the remainder of her liquor and poured herself another, Mick wordlessly waving aside the bottle she offered as he regained his breath.
‘Len looks after the clients and Billy handles the bar,’ Ma continued, ‘and between them they can break up a fight if need be, but they can’t stop one from starting, if you get my drift.’ Another hefty swig of rum found its way down her throat – fresh company being a rarity, Ma was enjoying herself. ‘Just between you and me,’ she said confidentially, ‘Len and Billy aren’t all that bright. They can’t sense trouble and deal with it the way Sid used to do. I need someone with wits and diplomacy. Someone who can pick the troublemakers, and steer the girls clear of the bastards before things get out of hand, because frankly some of the girls aren’t all that bright either. Think you can handle that, Mick?’
Having recovered himself, Mick looked her straight in the eye. ‘I know I can.’
‘Good lad.’
They toasted each other and Mick downed the remainder of his rum with comparative ease. After weathering the initial assault, the second time around was much easier to take. He accepted Ma’s offer of another tot, but rested the mug on the table while he took a bit of a breather.
‘I’ll only need you nights; the days are no trouble,’ she said. Digging a wad of tobacco from the pouch she started tamping it into her clay pipe. ‘But that’ll give you time to sort yourself out, won’t it? Get the lay of the land as it were, being newly arrived in town. Like I said, there’ll be no money to speak of, but I’ll sling you the odd bob now and then, and board and lodging’ll be thrown in. Do we have a deal?’
‘We most certainly do.’ Mick was about to offer his hand, but Ma gave another salute and, realising it was the way she did things, he once again returned the gesture.
‘It’ll be good to have someone about the place with a bit of a brain,’ Ma said, clenching the stem of her pipe between her teeth and lighting a taper from the flame of the oil lamp. ‘God, but I’ve missed Sid.’ She applied the flame to the tobacco and sucked away furiously, her face disappearing behind a thick, grey cloud. ‘Sid was a smart bugger, sharp as a tack.’
‘Sid was your husband, I take it?’’
Ma was so obviously in the mood for a chat that Mick had no qualms about asking the question, and indeed Ma displayed no hesitation in
He pulled the chair over to the table and sat.
‘I’m grateful to you for looking after Evie like you did,’ Ma said, pouring them both a liberal measure of rum. ‘Not many would have come to her rescue.’
‘Oh that’s not so, Ma,’ he protested modestly. ‘Any gentleman would have done likewise, I’m sure.’
She gave a pig-like snort of derision, which Mick sensed was personally directed at him rather than the inanity of his remark. He would need to take a different tack, he realised, if he were to find favour with Ma Tebbutt, charm was obviously not enough.
‘To be honest with you,’ he admitted, ‘if I’d known the fellow had a knife I wouldn’t have called him up at all. That poor lass would be down there now, raped and beaten to a pulp, I fear.’
He was rewarded with a cackle of delight, which pleased him. He knew how to play Ma Tebbutt now. She enjoyed a dose of the downright truth, and he’d be more than happy to oblige – within reason, of course.
‘Cheers,’ she said and raising her mug she drank.
Following her example, Mick took a healthy draught and the effect was instantaneous. He nearly gagged as the rough rum seared his throat and the fumes brought tears to his eyes. As his preference was ale, he rarely drank hard liquor.
‘I could do with a chappie like you around here,’ Ma said, the rum having no apparent effect upon her at all, ‘a chappie who has his wits about him. Since Sid’s gone, some of the men take advantage of my girls.’ She downed the remainder of her liquor and poured herself another, Mick wordlessly waving aside the bottle she offered as he regained his breath.
‘Len looks after the clients and Billy handles the bar,’ Ma continued, ‘and between them they can break up a fight if need be, but they can’t stop one from starting, if you get my drift.’ Another hefty swig of rum found its way down her throat – fresh company being a rarity, Ma was enjoying herself. ‘Just between you and me,’ she said confidentially, ‘Len and Billy aren’t all that bright. They can’t sense trouble and deal with it the way Sid used to do. I need someone with wits and diplomacy. Someone who can pick the troublemakers, and steer the girls clear of the bastards before things get out of hand, because frankly some of the girls aren’t all that bright either. Think you can handle that, Mick?’
Having recovered himself, Mick looked her straight in the eye. ‘I know I can.’
‘Good lad.’
They toasted each other and Mick downed the remainder of his rum with comparative ease. After weathering the initial assault, the second time around was much easier to take. He accepted Ma’s offer of another tot, but rested the mug on the table while he took a bit of a breather.
‘I’ll only need you nights; the days are no trouble,’ she said. Digging a wad of tobacco from the pouch she started tamping it into her clay pipe. ‘But that’ll give you time to sort yourself out, won’t it? Get the lay of the land as it were, being newly arrived in town. Like I said, there’ll be no money to speak of, but I’ll sling you the odd bob now and then, and board and lodging’ll be thrown in. Do we have a deal?’
‘We most certainly do.’ Mick was about to offer his hand, but Ma gave another salute and, realising it was the way she did things, he once again returned the gesture.
‘It’ll be good to have someone about the place with a bit of a brain,’ Ma said, clenching the stem of her pipe between her teeth and lighting a taper from the flame of the oil lamp. ‘God, but I’ve missed Sid.’ She applied the flame to the tobacco and sucked away furiously, her face disappearing behind a thick, grey cloud. ‘Sid was a smart bugger, sharp as a tack.’
‘Sid was your husband, I take it?’’
Ma was so obviously in the mood for a chat that Mick had no qualms about asking the question, and indeed Ma displayed no hesitation in
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