The Grind

3. Home, sweet home

3

HOME, SWEET HOME

In the eastern quarter of London, in Spitalfields and Bethnal Green, Shoreditch and Wapping, the markets were much closer to each other. Mary was not the first and would not be the last who gravitated towards this part of town. Here, food could be scavenged more easily and vagrancy was almost tolerated. Here, she could blend into the human soup, get lost in the crowd.

Privately, beneath the surface, she grew more desperate with the passing of each new day. Then at night, she wandered aimlessly until dawn, wearing her protective scowl, feeling more alone than she had ever thought possible.

She’d had no more than scraps for three days and was begging outside the Ten Bells public house when she first encountered Jake.

“Got a spare penny, mister?” she’d asked, head bowed, hands outstretched, trying to appear pitiful and not even coming close.

Jake took note of the pretty young girl with the angry eyes. He stopped in his tracks, patting his pockets as though searching for change.

She’d looked him in the face then, impatiently and only for a second. She registered his firm jaw, his buttoned shirt, his pristine white collar. b****y tourist! she thought, already deciding that he was wasting her time.

“Well?” she demanded.

“Sorry, luvvy, I ain’t!” he’d replied honestly, with a sympathetic smile. She’s so proud, he thought, with no good reason at all.

She snorted and looked away. He ignored the gesture.

“What do you need the penny for?” he asked.

She turned back to face him, utter contempt oozing from every pore. She looked as though she was about to reply, but ended up just shaking her head and turning away, dismissing him as insignificant, already moving on to the next face in the crowd.

Jeesus, she thought, who does he think he is in that bright blue suit?

She’s got some nerve, taking that attitude with me! he thought, mildly amused despite himself.

Jake was always on the lookout for those who stood out from the crowd. To him, beneath the shabby exterior she showed potential.

“Don’t want to say?” he enquired, knowing full well that she was likely to explode if he kept needling her.

She turned around again, this time fixing him with a withering stare. “You still ‘ere?” she asked. She spat aggressively on the floor and turned her back on him again.

Jake came around her, so they were face to face, eye to eye. A big grin spread right across his face. “’Cos if it’s a doss you’re after, I might be able to assist yer.”

Mary had frowned deeply. Nobody had shown her any kindness for so long that she was instantly suspicious.

“I know about men like you!” she spat out.

Jake chuckled.

“What’s so fuckin’ funny?” she demanded.

And with a friendly gesture, he had begun to work his magic.

“Easy, easy!” he said, raising his fists as though they were about to engage in a quick bout.

Reluctantly, Mary had to concede he moved well; danced so lightly on his toes, he was clearly no novice to the Queensbury rules.

“You ain’t goin’ to hit me, are you?” He asked the question with amusement in his eyes, still dancing around her, fists at the ready.

Mary said nothing, just watched, scowling, as he moved.

“Just tryin’ to be friendly,” he said, finally standing still and letting his hands fall to his sides with that huge grin still spread across his face.

“I ain’t gonna ‘urt ya!” he declared.

“You can try!” she threatened. Immediately, her suspicions returned in droves.

She needs to be taken seriously, this one, he decided.

He wiped the smile from his face. “I’m Jake!” he said, offering his hand.

She stared at him, hands on hips.

“Got a name, ‘ave yer?” he asked, his hand falling to his side and just the faintest of smiles remaining.

“Mary,” she muttered eventually.

“Well, Mary, there’s a*****e down there.”

He pointed down Dorset Street. She followed his finger but declined to reply.

Jake smirked. Jeesus, she’s hard work, this one, he thought. Good job I love a challenge!

“You can always find me there,” he said.

She still didn’t answer.

“Just walk in the shop and say you’re lookin’ for Jake!” He grinned. “Any time, day or night.”

Mary studied him in silence.

He’s a mobster, she suddenly realised. Now he had her attention. She looked him up and down more carefully, taking in his polished boots, the derby hat tilted slightly over his left eye, the houndstooth suit that fitted him as only made to measure will. For a split second, she almost smiled.

He noticed and leant in closer. “Well, princess, if you need a friend, you know where to find me,” he said.

She nodded.

“Ah!” he said, beaming. He winked at her taking a step backwards.

“Well, Mary, it’s been a pleasure talkin’ to yer but I’m goin’ now.” His voice was again filled with amusement. He waited for a response but none was forthcoming.

“We must do this again sometime!” he said.

Jake clicked his heels together before turning around, walking away and disappearing into the pub.

That night saw the first chill of autumn in the air. Mary roamed from Bethnal Green to Bow, half frozen and wishing the hours away.