It was a week since Raven, their mysterious lodger, had moved into Jacob’s room. Very little had changed in number seven White’s Rents, but Essie had to admit that Raven’s contribution to the housekeeping had made their lives easier. They had paid off the arrears on the rent and had eaten well every day, although Essie had kept some of the money aside, hiding it beneath a loose floorboard in her bedroom. Their lodger would move on soon, or so she hoped, but Jacob was not yet fit to return to the river and she would have to earn enough money to keep them both until he was strong enough to work. She was still curious and not a little worried about Raven’s activities, but he kept himself to himself and neither she nor her father had seen him to speak to since that first night.
Essie hitched up her damp skirts, wishing that she could wear breeches like the men, but it was difficult enough for a girl to find gainful employment, without shocking the male population and antagonising them. She had many acquaintances on the wharves and amongst the lightermen and watermen, but she knew that they tolerated her for her father’s sake, although he came in for a certain amount of criticism for allowing his daughter to take his place. She did not want to be an object of pity, but she was realistic enough to know her limitations when it came to physical strength. She had always thought of the turbulent River Thames as an entity in its own right, with a throbbing heart that would go on for ever: the river was to be respected, feared and never taken for granted. She climbed Duke Shore Stairs and had just reached the wharf when she spotted Ben, who was chatting to one of the crane operators. He broke off his conversation and hurried to meet her, dodging between piles of crates and coils of rope.
‘You’re looking very serious. Is anything wrong, Essie?’
She shook her head. ‘No, I’m fine, thanks.’
‘I’m sorry I haven’t managed to come round to see your pa, but we’ve been working day and night for the last week.’
‘That’s all right. Pa doesn’t feel up to having visitors.’
‘How is he doing? It’s going about that he might not walk again.’
‘Whoever is spreading such lies should mind their own business,’ Essie said sharply. ‘Pa’s improving every day. He’s moving about the house, although he can’t make the stairs yet, but he’ll be back to work soon.’
‘All right, don’t bite my head off. I was only asking.’
‘I’m sorry, Ben. I’m not having an easy time. It’s just hard to make a living with such a small boat. I’ve taken Saul to work again this morning, and he could only afford to give me a penny.’
‘If you’re short of money I might be able to help.’ Ben’s weather-beaten features creased into a worried frown. ‘You’ve only got to ask.’
‘Thank you, but we’ll manage.’ Essie glanced round, hoping to spot a likely customer. ‘Why are you here, anyway? Shouldn’t you be working?’
‘Engine trouble. These new-fangled steam engines break down too often. Sometimes I think we were better rowing the wherries, even if it was hard work.’
‘Will it take long to fix it?’
‘I dunno, but the guvnor told me to take the morning off, or what’s left of it.’ Ben gave her a searching look. ‘Have you eaten today?’
‘Not yet. I was hoping to find another job, but it looks a bit quiet.’
‘There’s a pie seller in Shoulder of Mutton Alley. Come on, Essie. I’ll treat you to a pork pie and a cup of coffee.’
It was an offer that was too good to refuse. Someone had eaten the last crust of bread and had scraped out what remained of the dripping. Essie had two suspects in mind, but her father was sound asleep on the sofa and there was no sound of movement from Raven’s bedroom. She had heard him come in at dawn, but she had given up trying to find out anything more about him, and so far his stay in their house had been uneventful. It was not his fault that the milk had gone off, although he was guilty for using the last of the tea. She would have to go shopping later, but that could wait.
‘That sounds wonderful.’ Essie linked arms with Ben. ‘I’m starving after all that rowing. The river is in a funny mood today, full of eddies and cross-currents. It’s behaving like a grumpy old man.’
Ben threw back his head and laughed. ‘The things you say, Essie Chapman. It’s a river, it can’t think. It just does what it has to do and flows down to the sea.’
‘You say that, Ben, but I grew up in Limehouse like you, and I know the river. It’s the heart and soul of London and despite its moods and tantrums, I love it.’
He patted her hand as it lay on his sleeve. ‘You need food inside you, love. You’re light-headed.’
The pies contained more gristle than meat, but the pastry was thick and filling, and the coffee was hot and comforting. With a full stomach Essie felt more optimistic as she parted from Ben and walked to the wharfinger’s office.
Riley, the wharfinger, a stocky man with a broken nose and grizzled grey hair, had once been a bare-knuckle fighter. What he lacked in stature he made up for with lightness of foot and dogged aggression. He had floored many a would-be champion, and the dockers, crane operators and watermen all treated him with respect.
Riley looked up from the ledger he had been studying and his lined face crumpled into a smile. ‘Essie, me darling, how are you today?’
‘I’m well, thank you, Mr Riley. Have you any work for me?’
‘Is that father of yours still not able to work?’
‘He’s getting better each day,’ Essie said firmly. ‘He doesn’t like being idle.’
‘It’s true I haven’t seen him in the Grapes recently, so he must be poorly.’
‘But I can take his place, Mr Riley. I’m as good at rowing as any man and I know the river better than most.’
‘’Tis also true, me darling, but you have to admit that you cannot match the men for strength.’ Riley leafed through a pile of paperwork. ‘Nothing today, I’m afraid. Go home, Essie, there’s a good girl.’ He bent his head over the book on his desk and she was effectively dismissed.
Essie knew what he said was true but it still rankled. ‘Thank you, Mr Riley. I’ll pop in this afternoon, just in case anything turns up.’ He did not look up and she left the office, acknowledging the cheery waves from one or two of the men on the wharf and ignoring the salacious comments of those who regarded her as fair game, Diggory Tyce being one such person. If it were not for Ben’s watchful eye and strong arm, Diggory might have become a nuisance, but Essie knew of the waterman’s reputation with women and she kept out of his way as much as possible. Not that it was easy in the relatively small world of the river people at Limehouse, where brawn ruled and the strongest came out on top. Essie knew from past experience when to stand up for herself and when it was better to back away. Women’s work, according to almost all the men of her acquaintance, was to stay at home, marry, keep house, bring up children and cook and clean. Whether it was their father or their husband, men were their masters and it was a woman’s duty to do as she was told. Essie refused to believe this. She was certain that there must be more to life than drudgery and giving birth every year. She made her way to the grocer’s shop and purchased a few necessities before making her way home.
She had just reached the door of number seven when it opened and she was almost bowled over by a tall man wearing a reefer jacket. His cap was pulled down over his brow but she was aware of a pair of intelligent, startlingly blue eyes set beneath straight black brows. The lower half of his face was covered by a small moustache