Poor Little Rich Girl (8 page)

‘Oh, Kitty, how ever did you get up there?’ Lonnie cried, horrified at her pet’s daring. ‘Come down at once, and come down carefully!’

For a moment it seemed as though Kitty were going to obey her, but then the wind caused the bough to sway again and the kitten either lost her hold or decided to try for a safer perch, for one moment she was peering at Lonnie through the tossing leaves and the next she was sprawled on top of the brick wall.

‘Oh, Kitty, hang on! I’ll … I’ll fetch a ladder from Mr Mimms’s tool shed and rescue you,’ Lonnie gabbled, even more afraid for her pet, for the wall seemed to have no sheltering spot into which the kitten might scramble and the wind caused the branches to sway and even brush against the bricks every now and then. ‘Stay there! Don’t move!’

Lonnie dashed towards the shed but before she so much as unlocked the door she glanced back towards the top of the wall upon which the kitten had been crouching. It was empty.

Without a second thought, Lonnie ran towards the green door in the wall, opened it and shot through. She dreaded seeing Kitty flattened on the pavement, but instead her pet was dancing jauntily along the road in the direction of Everton Brow. Lonnie shouted and felt a moment’s relief when the little cat turned her head, but since Kitty then set off again at twice the pace, such relief was short-lived. Haig Street was a quiet road with very little traffic,
but Everton Brow, stretching as it did between Shaw Street and Cazneau Street, was a different matter altogether. Traffic roared along it and the pavements were crowded with folk doing their messages before the shops closed.

By dint of running as hard as she could, Lonnie was only a few yards behind Kitty when she reached Salisbury Street. She was greatly relieved when the kitten did not attempt the crossing, but turned into Salisbury Street and ran along the left-hand pavement, occasionally glancing back as though keen to encourage her little mistress to continue the chase. The cat kept ahead of her with ease, for Lonnie was not used to running and was soon nursing a stitch in her side. She was gaining on the kitten, however, and beginning to feel confident that the chase was nearly over when a large, fat woman clad all in black, who was sailing down the pavement towards her, bent and picked Kitty up. Lonnie, thanking her stars, hurried up to the woman and began to explain that the kitten was hers, but the woman did not seem to understand. She shook her head, then addressed Lonnie in an accent so broad that the child had to strain every nerve to understand.

‘Whazzup, chuck?’ the woman wheezed. ‘This ’ere’s me own lickle cat what I lorst no more than a week ago. Whazzat you’re sayin’? Is it like a cat you know, queen? But there’s no doubt in me mind that this is fickle Tibby, what’s been lorst and probably a-frettin’ for kind Auntie Clara to find him … and now I have.’ She beamed, toothlessly, upon Lonnie but her little grey eyes were calculating. ‘Now orf wi’ you, little missie! Tibby and me’s goin’ home so’s he can have a nice saucer of conny-onny to fatten him up a bit.’

Lonnie began to protest, but the fat woman took no notice. She turned on her heel and presently dived across the road, but Lonnie, who was no fool, saw that the woman lingered as she crossed, as though to make certain that Lonnie was still following her. Perhaps this was some sort of game, Lonnie thought hopefully, as she stuck as close to the woman – presumably Auntie Clara – as she could get. She hoped that when they reached the further pavement, Auntie Clara would give her wheezy laugh and return the kitten to its rightful owner, explaining that it had all been a joke.

Nothing of the sort happened, however. The fat woman continued along the pavement, not hurrying, and glancing constantly at her pursuer, then turned down a narrow, blackened alleyway between the houses. Looking up at the street sign, Lonnie saw that they were now in Vine Terrace and thought what a shame it was that such a pretty name should belong to so ugly a street. Ahead of her, Auntie Clara had stopped walking and given a bellow, whereupon a dozen or so children, all ragged and filthy, clustered about her. Auntie Clara held up the kitten and addressed them. ‘Hey, kids, look wharr I’ve got. If it ain’t my own little Tibby wharr I lost last week, come back to his old mam. You remember my Tibby, don’cher, kids? ’cos this lickle girl seems to think it’s her kitten, but we knows better, doesn’t we?’

Lonnie glanced hopefully at the children, then reflected bitterly that she should have guessed. These were kids to whom lying, cheating and probably stealing kittens came as naturally as breathing; she would get no help from them. Wondering what on earth to do next, she looked up into Auntie Clara’s greedy face and saw, with distate, that the
woman’s skin was as grimed as that of the children surrounding her and that the thin strands of grey hair which fell from her headscarf looked as though they had seldom, if ever, been washed.

Lonnie was still wondering what on earth to do next when Auntie Clara spoke again. ‘But it seems as though you’ve took a rare likin’ to me lickle cat, young lady,’ she said, leering down at Lonnie. ‘I’m as fond of it as though it were me own child, but I won’t deny I’ve hard work enough to feed meself and me brats, so I dare say it’d be better off wi’ you. What say you give me half a crown? Then I’ll hand it to you and no more said. Wharrabout it, eh?’

‘But I haven’t got half a crown,’ Lonnie said helplessly. ‘My aunt doesn’t give me pocket money. I don’t even have an
anna
.’ She looked desperately around her. ‘If you will come home with me, though, I’m sure my aunt would pay for the kitten.’

The fat woman laughed scornfully. ‘Come home wi’ you? An’ have you tellin’ everyone as how I’d stole your kitten and tried to sell it back to you?’ She turned to the children, still hovering restlessly. ‘That’s likely, ain’t it? I’m not such a fool as to put me head straight into the trap so’s you can set the scuffers on me.’ Her bright, mean little eyes swept over Lonnie from top to toe. ‘That’s a decent lickle dress you’ve gorron, an’ them socks an’ sandals is worth a penny or two down at uncle’s. Hand ’em over and we’ll say no more … I might even give you the kitten, just to show willin’.’

Lonnie stared at the old woman with disbelief. Surely she could not seriously expect Lonnie to take off her clothes and run home through the streets in her white pleated knickers, liberty bodice and vest? She was beginning to say she would do no such
thing when the fat woman held up the kitten and began to squeeze. The kitten gasped and struggled and Lonnie saw its mouth open to miaow a protest and realised, with horror, that it could not do so. ‘Stop it!’ she shouted. ‘You’re hurting Kitty and she’s never done anything to hurt you! I promise I’ll give you money if only you’ll let Kitty alone!’

‘Tek your dress off and them nice sandals,’ the woman said remorselessly. She squeezed the kitten again and Lonnie saw Kitty’s eyes begin to bulge. The small mouth gaped and abruptly Lonnie lost her temper. Screaming abuse in Hindustani, she elbowed the children aside and went for her tormentor’s face with her nails, stamping briskly on the woman’s feet in their cracked old boots and kicking at her dirty white legs. The woman staggered back, loosing her hold on the kitten for a moment. Lonnie snatched the trembling bundle of fur, punched the fat woman as hard as she could in her enormous, drooping chest, and made off up the terrace as fast as she could run, all thoughts of her recent stitch forgotten. As she turned into Salisbury Street she glanced behind her, confident that the fat woman could not possibly chase after her, and saw, with real dismay, that the filthy, ragged children were pursuing. As she tore up the road towards Everton Brow, she heard shouts of ‘Thief! Stop thief! She’s stole our mam’s cat! Stop her, someone!’

Lonnie continued to run and was passing Shaw Terrace when she realised that all sounds of pursuit had ceased and, glancing over her shoulder, saw that the children had abandoned her. Much relieved, she slowed to a walk and was comforting the kitten with promises of warm milk and many cuddles as she drew level with Elizabeth Terrace. Suddenly, with a
triumphant whoop, the ragged children were before her. They must have cut round the back and lain in wait to trap her – hands outstretched to grab, mouths jeering defiance.

Desperately, Lonnie turned on her heel and fled the way she had come, with the pack in close pursuit. Doubling back and forth among the narrow streets and crowded tenements she was very soon lost, but when she emerged once more on to a main road she realised that the pursuit, at least, was at an end. Amongst so many people she would be safe, for though the children from Vine Terrace had been willing enough to bully her on their own ground she guessed they would not do so when surrounded by people who would probably condemn their behaviour – might even call the police.

It was a great comfort to be able to slow to a walk, and for the first time since her encounter with the fat woman Lonnie began to wonder what would happen to her when she arrived home. She had directly disobeyed Hester and it must be long past her bedtime, for the sun was very low in the sky and there were far fewer children about in the streets than there had been earlier. Glancing up at a street sign, she realised she was on Netherfield Road and felt tears come to her eyes. The road was a busy one with trams and a good many other vehicles roaring along it, but since she had no money she could not board a tram and in any case had no idea in which direction she should be heading.

For a moment she stood on the pavement’s edge, glancing up and down and hoping to be able to orient herself, then turned to a passer-by. She was a tall and angular woman, with white hair pulled back into a bun on the nape of her neck, and a beaky nose.
Despite the warmth of the evening, she was clad in stout walking shoes and a swirling black cloak. She smiled very kindly upon Lonnie but admitted that she was a stranger in these parts and had never even heard of Shaw Street. It had taken Lonnie quite a lot of courage to ask directions and having made such a poor choice she hesitated to enquire again. In fact she was still hesitating when a voice spoke in her ear. ‘What the devil are you doing out at this time o’ night, and on your own, little Miss hyphenated whatsyername? Cor, an’ you’ve got my kitten. Netherfield Road ain’t no place for a kitten – trams don’t stop for no man, they’d flatten a kitten soon as look at it!’

Lonnie turned and stared at the boy and had great difficulty in refraining from bursting into tears of relief. It was Ben, the boy from the pet shop! He might not like her – well, he did not like her – but at least he was a familiar face and she remembered that he had once owned the kittens and been kind to them. Convulsively, she grabbed at his arm with her free hand. ‘Oh, oh, Ben, you don’t know how glad I am to see you! I’m lost … this fat old woman tried to steal Kitty … some wicked children chased me, and I’ll be in dreadful trouble when I do find Shaw Street again! Please,
please
can you take me home?’

She expected Ben to comply at once but instead he continued to stare severely down at her. ‘Have you
seen
yourself?’ he said incredulously. He took her arm and guided her to the nearest shop window, pointing at her reflection in the glass. ‘Your dress is filthy, there’s blood running down your knee and your elbow is scraped. Your hair’s come loose and if them socks were white once, they ain’t now. What’s more, them shoes is caked with mud, if not
worse, and how did you come by that bruise on your forehead?’

Lonnie, regarding her dishevelled reflection with fascination, remembered that she had fallen in her efforts to escape from the gang and was only glad that she had managed, on each occasion, not to fall on the kitten. ‘I
told
you some kids chased me,’ she said reproachfully. ‘I fell once, rounding a corner too fast. The second time I tripped on an uneven paving stone and went down with a real bang. But Kitty’s all right, although that wicked woman tried to squeeze her to death.’ She heaved a deep sigh and held the kitten under her chin, feeling the small body vibrate with purrs. ‘I don’t care what they do to me, but suppose they send Kitty away? Because I
am
in a state, anyone can see that.’

‘Tell you what,’ Ben said, after a pause for thought, ‘why don’t you come back to Elmore Street where I live and let me mam tidy you up a bit? I dare say your folk won’t be near so mad with you if you’re clean and tidy and just say you got lost. After all, anyone can get lost. It’s only when you get filthy as well that mams and dads holler at you.’

‘Is it far to Elmore Street?’ Lonnie said, rather timidly. ‘And what o’clock is it, Ben? Hester was going to come down for me when it was time for my supper. Will your mam mind? Oh, if only Hester doesn’t tell my aunt, it might be all right. My aunt doesn’t like children, or cats – in fact, she doesn’t like anyone very much,’ she added truthfully.

‘Mam won’t mind at all. She’s used to us kids comin’ in pretty dirty, so one more won’t make a deal of difference, and it won’t be much past seven o’clock. You don’t go to bed that early, do you?’

‘No, but Hester could have come down at any
time, I suppose,’ Lonnie said. Nevertheless, she fell into step beside him. ‘But I’ll come back with you if you’re sure your mother won’t mind.’

‘I said she wouldn’t mind and she won’t,’ Ben said. ‘Shall I carry the kitten? It’d give you a bit of a rest, like.’

The two set off together and presently Lonnie found herself telling Ben the whole story, starting from her digging in the garden to the moment when she had burst on to Netherfield Road and lost her pursuers. Ben, holding the kitten gently, was deeply interested and whistled with either amazement or admiration – Lonnie could not tell which – upon hearing of Lonnie’s attack on the fat woman. ‘Serves her right for trying to strangle me kitten,’ he said approvingly, when Lonnie described the kicks, scratches and punches she had administered to her foe. They stood on the edge of the pavement, waiting for an opportunity to cross, and Ben said instructively: ‘This ’ere’s Everton Road, queen, and Elmore Street is right there.’ He pointed. ‘We live at Number 27 but we won’t go to the front door, ’cos no one ever uses that. We’ll go down the jigger an’ round the back and I’ll fetch a bucket of water for me mam and you can wash as soon as we get inside. While you do that, I’ll find Kitty a bite to eat and then our mam will tidy you up like what I said she would.’