Читать книгу THE EAST END TRILOGY: Tales of Mean Streets, A Child of the Jago & To London Town - Morrison Arthur - Страница 7

When Billy Chope married Lizerunt there was a small rejoicing. There was no wedding-party, because it was considered that what there might be to drink would be better in the family. Lizerunt’s father was not, and her mother felt no interest in the affair, not having seen her daughter for a year, and happening, at the time, to have a month’s engagement in respect of a drunk and disorderly. So that there were but three of them; and Billy Chope got exceedingly tipsy early in the day; and in the evening his bride bawled a continual chorus, while his mother, influenced by that unwonted quartern of gin the occasion sanctioned, wept dismally over her boy, who was much too far gone to resent it.

His was the chief reason for rejoicing. For Lizerunt had always been able to extract ten shillings a week from the pickle factory, and it was to be presumed that as Lizer Chope her earning capacity would not diminish; and the wages would make a very respectable addition to the precarious revenue, depending on the mangle, that Billy extorted from his mother. As for Lizer, she was married. That was the considerable thing; for she was but a few months short of eighteen, and that, as you know, is a little late.

Of course there were quarrels very soon; for the new Mrs. Chope, less submissive at first than her mother-in-law, took a little breaking in, and a liberal renewal of the manual treatment once applied in her courting days. But the quarrels between the women were comforting to Billy; a diversion and a source of better service.

As soon as might be, Lizer took the way of womankind. This circumstance brought an unexpected half-crown from the evangelical rector who had married the couple gratis; for, recognizing Billy in the street by accident, and being told of Mrs. Chope’s prospects, as well as that Billy was out of work (a fact undeniable), he reflected that his principles did on occasion lead to discomfort of a material sort. And Billy, to whose comprehension the half-crown opened a new field of receipt, would doubtless have long remained a client of the rector, had not that zealot hastened to discover a vacancy for a warehouse porter, the offer of presentation whereunto alienated Billy Chope forever. But there were meetings and demonstrations of the unemployed; and it was said that shillings had been given away; and, as being at a meeting in a street was at least as amusing as being in a street where there was no meeting, Billy often went, on the off chance. But his lot was chiefly disappointment: wherefore he became more especially careful to furnish himself ere he left home.

For certain weeks cash came less freely than ever from the two women. Lizer spoke of providing for the necessities of the expected child: a manifestly absurd procedure, as Billy pointed out, since, if they were unable to clothe or feed it, the duty would fall on its grandmother. That was law, and nobody could get over it. But even with this argument, a shilling cost him many more demands and threats than it had used, and a deal more general trouble.

At last Lizer ceased from going to the pickle factory, and could not even help Billy’s mother at the mangle for long. This lasted for near a week, when Billy, rising at ten with a bad mouth, resolved to stand no nonsense, and demanded two shillings.

“Two bob! Wot for?” Lizer asked.

“‘Cos I want it. None o’ yer lip!”

“Ain’t got it,” said Lizer, sulkily.

“That’s a bleed’n’ lie!”

“Lie yerself!”

“I’ll break y’in ‘arves, ye blasted ‘eifer!” He ran at her throat and forced her back over a chair. “I’ll pull yer face auf! If y’ don’t give me the money, gawblimy, I’ll do for ye!”

Lizer strained and squalled. “Le’ go! You’ll kill me an’ the kid too!” she grunted, hoarsely. Billy’s mother ran in and threw her arms about him, dragging him away. “Don’t, Billy!” she said, in terror. “Don’t, Billy — not now! You’ll get in trouble. Come away. She might go auf, an’ you’d get in trouble!”

Billy Chope flung his wife over and turned to his mother. “Take yer ‘ands auf me,” he said; “go on, or I’ll gi’ ye somethin’ for yerself!” And he punched her in the breast by way of illustration.

“You shall ‘ave what I’ve got, Billy, if it’s money,” the mother said. “But don’t go an’ git yerself in trouble, don’t. Will a shillin’ do!”

“No, it won’t. Think I’m a bloomin’ kid? I mean ‘avin’ two bob this mornin’.”

“I was a-keepin’ it for the rent, Billy but —”

“Yus; think o’ the bleed’n’ lan’lord ‘fore me, doncher?” And he pocketed the two shillings. “I ain’t settled with you yut, my gal,” he added to Lizer; “mikin’ about at ‘ome an’ ‘idin’ money. You wait a bit!”

Lizer had climbed into an erect position, and, gravid and slow, had got as far as the passage. Mistaking this for a safe distance, she replied with defiant railings.

Billy made for her with a kick that laid her on the lower stairs, and, swinging his legs round his mother as she obstructed him, entreating him not to get in trouble, he attempted to kick again in a more telling spot. But a movement among the family upstairs and a tap at the door hinted of interference, and he took himself off.

Lizer lay doubled up on the stairs, howling; but her only articulate cry was: “Gawd ‘elp me, it’s comin’!”

Billy went to the meeting of the unemployed, and cheered a proposal to storm the Tower of London. But he did not join the procession following a man with a handkerchief on a stick, who promised destruction to every policeman in his path: for he knew the fate of such processions. With a few others he hung about the nearest tavern for awhile, on the chance of the advent of a flush sailor from St. Katherine’s, disposed to treat out-o’-workers. Then he went alone to a quieter beer-house and took a pint or two at his own expense. A glance down the music-hall bills hanging in the bar having given him a notion for the evening, he bethought himself of dinner, and made for home.

The front door was open, and in the first room, where the mangle stood, there were no signs of dinner. And this was at three o’clock! Billy pushed into the room behind, demanding why.

“Billy,” Lizer said, faintly, from her bed, “look at the baby!”

Something was moving feebly under a flannel petticoat. Billy pulled the petticoat aside, and said: “That? Well, it is a measly snipe.” It was a blind, hairless humunculus, short of a foot long, with a skinny face set in a great skull. There was a black bruise on one side from hip to armpit. Billy dropped the petticoat and said: “Where’s my dinner?”

“I dunno,” Lizer responded, hazily. “Wot’s the time?”

“Time? Don’t try to kid me. You git up; go on. I want my dinner!”

“Mother’s gittin’ it, I think,” said Lizer. “Doctor had to slap ’im like anythink ‘fore ‘e’d cry. ‘E don’t cry now much. ‘E—”

“Go on; out ye git. I do’ want no more damn jaw. Git my dinner!”

“I’m a-gittin’ of it, Billy,” his mother said, at the door. She had begun when he first entered. “It won’t be a minute.”

“You come ’ere; y’aint alwis s’ ready to do ‘er work, are ye? She ain’t no call to stop there no longer, an’ I owe ‘er one for this mornin’. Will ye git out, or shall I kick ye?”

“She can’t, Billy,” his mother said. And Lizer sniveled and said: “You’re a damn brute. Y’ought to be bleedin’ well booted!”

But Billy had her by the shoulder and began to haul; and again his mother besought him to remember what he might bring upon himself. At this moment the doctor’s dispenser, a fourth-year London Hospital student of many inches, who had been washing his hands in the kitchen, came in. For a moment he failed to comprehend the scene. Then he took Billy Chope by the collar, hauled him pell-mell along the passage, kicked him (hard) into the gutter, and shut the door.

When he returned to the room, Lizer, sitting up and holding on by the bed-frame, gasped hysterically: “Ye bleedin’ makeshift, I’d ‘ave yer liver out if I could reach ye! You touch my ‘usband, ye long pisenin’ ‘ound you! Ow!” And, infirm of aim, she flung a cracked teacup at his head. Billy’s mother said: “Y’ought to be ashamed of yourself, you low blaggard. If ‘is father was alive ‘e’d knock yer ‘ead auf. Call yourself a doctor — a passel o’ boys! Git out! Go out o’ my ’ouse, or I’ll give y’in charge!”

“But — why, hang it, he’d have killed her.” Then to Lizer. “Lie down.”

“Sha’n’t lay down. Keep auf; if you come near me I’ll corpse ye. You go while ye’re safe!”

The dispenser appealed to Billy’s mother. “For God’s sake, make her lie down. She’ll kill herself. I’ll go. Perhaps the doctor had better Come.” And he went: leaving the coast clear for Billy Chope to return and avenge his kicking.