The Urchin's Song by Rita Bradshaw Read Free Book Online Page A

forgive me ’cos I can’t forgive meself.’
    ‘Oh, Mam.’ Josie had been standing very straight, her face grim, but now she visibly deflated and what she said was, ‘I can’t leave you here with him, Mam. You must come with us, and the lads too.’
    ‘I ain’t goin’ nowhere.’ It was Jimmy who spoke and in spite of his nine years, his voice was adamant. ‘Neither’s he.’ He pointed to Hubert who was cowering against the edge of his platform, clearly overwhelmed by the amazing turn of events.
    ‘Lass . . .’ Shirley hesitated, and then, as the man on the floor tried to move and, swearing profoundly, fell back again against the table and into silence, she continued, ‘He’s passed out. You go, eh? These won’t go’ - she indicated her two sons with a sharp movement of her hand - ‘an’ I can’t, lass. For better or worse me place is here, but you’re young. You’ve got the rest of your life in front of you, an’ you’ve got to get Gertie out of it. If you don’t, he won’t rest until she’s gone the same way as Ada an’ Dora.’ She didn’t add that with all that had transpired this night, the fragile protection Josie’s singing had given her - or more to the point the income it had brought in - would be no defence now. Bart would kill the bairn.
    Josie said again, ‘Oh, Mam,’ but in answer to the unvoiced plea, Shirley said, ‘I can’t, lass, an’ that’s that. An’ you have to. There’s an end to it. I’ll be all right. Old Maud an’ Enoch are good, an’ many’s the afternoon we spend together. They’ll not see me in a fix. I know I can always go upstairs. You both get off quick now, afore he’s on his feet.’ Shirley turned and clasped the sobbing Gertie to her, and then pushed the child towards her sister. ‘Get your coats an’ skedaddle,’ she said urgently. ‘An’ not a word as to where, mind. Little cuddy lugs are twitchin’.’
    Josie glanced towards her brothers and met two pairs of wary, watchful eyes. For a moment the dire urgency of the situation was overshadowed by the bitter knowledge that Jimmy and Hubert would have no compunction in betraying their sisters’ whereabouts to the man who was intent on harming them. But then they’d been brought up knowing their best chance of survival was to side with the strongest camp. It wasn’t really their fault.
    A dazed groan from the man on the floor brought her reaching for her sister’s hand. She edged them both carefully round her father’s sprawled legs and then hurried Gertie through to the kitchen. Once the door was shut behind them, Gertie clutched hold of her, saying nervously, ‘Josie, where are we goin’? Where was Da goin’ to take me?’
    Josie looked down into the little girl’s face. Gertie gave the appearance of being no more than six or seven - which had been to her advantage when her father had sent her out to beg - and she wasn’t smart like their Jimmy. He might not be able to read or write but he was cuter than a cartload of monkeys, and intuitive too. She didn’t doubt Jimmy had got a fair idea of the fate which had been about to befall Gertie. But she had to make Gertie understand the danger she was in for her own protection, although she worried what effect the knowledge might have on her sister.
    She explained as gently as she could, her arm round the skinny shoulders, and at the end of it Gertie’s brown eyes with their short stubby lashes were glittering with tears and her voice was quivering when she said, ‘I hate me da. I really hate him.’
    That made two of them. Josie now chivvied Gertie into her coat and hat before donning her own, her ears cocked for any sound from the room next door. Their few items of spare clothing were in one of the orange boxes in the living room; they’d have to leave with nothing, not that that mattered. She had to get Gertie out of here. She picked up the poker again, holding it tightly.
    As her sister managed a wobbly smile, Josie’s shoulders