You know you look a sight. You may have survived the smallpox, but your face is still knobbly with sores. You wish you did have some oatmeal to soothe the itchy scabs.
A girl who introduces herself as Annie – a tough, cheeky sort, with a dimple in her chin – shows you the work for the day. You must unwind and pick apart chunks of the old rope. The bosses will then take the rope fluff – oakum – to sell to the shipyards, where it will be jammed between joints in ships’ hulls to stop them from leaking. ‘So this old bit of oakum,’ laughs Annie, ‘will see more of the world than we poor girls ever will!’
At first it seems boring, but easy: just unwind the rope into smaller and smaller threads until you have a fluffy, fibrous mass that reminds you of Da’s unruly beard. After three hours, however, it’s still boring, but certainly not easy. The tiny, tough rope fibres slice your fingertips. The room is filled with fluff and dust, and the oakum irritates your skin. Your fingernails fill with blood, and blisters pop up on your hands.
By dinnertime, your hands are such a wreck you can’t hold a spoon to eat, but instead have to lift the bowl of gruel to your mouth and swallow. Bed is some wooden planks and a rough blanket. The next day is more of the same.
For the first couple of days, it’s a shock to wake up and find yourself in the workhouse – but the grim, repetitive days just keep coming, and you soon find yourself retreating into your own faraway thoughts. The life you shared in Kilkenny with Ma, Da and Erin now seems like a distant, pretty dream.
ABOUT A WEEK after your arrival, a lady comes to the poorhouse. A fine lady she is, too, with button-up boots of leather, a crisp skirt that makes a shushing sound as she walks, and a parasol in her hand. She introduces herself as Madam Miriam, and says she runs a school to train young girls to be maids in rich men’s houses.
You imagine yourself holding a steaming plate of golden roast potatoes in your hands, serving them to the master’s dark wooden table with its gleaming cutlery and starched napkins. All the other girls get stars in their eyes too. You suddenly know that you will give anything on God’s green earth to convince Madam Miriam that you are the most impeccably mannered, thoughtful, righteous, hard-working and obedient girl in that poorhouse. You are going to Madam Miriam’s maid school.
In an instant, it all comes true. Madam Miriam chooses you! And so you find yourself whisked out of the poorhouse by the side of this fine, good-smelling lady.
But, as your ma used to say, If something seems too good to be true, then it probably is. Down an alleyway, through the back door of a tavern, behind a red velvet curtain you trot, wide-eyed, like a lamb to the slaughter, only realising when you see a man with black teeth and a knife that this is no school for girls.
‘This is our thieves’ den, pretty girl,’ says ‘Madam Miriam’, unbuttoning her jacket and shaking it off to reveal her tattooed arms. She suddenly switches back to the upper-class accent she used to fool the owner of the poorhouse: ‘And you’ll join us as a pickpocket from now on, or I’ll have your throat slit and your body dumped in the Thames. Isn’t that right, Earl?’
The black-toothed man just snickers.
‘You’re to be the amuser’s accomplice,’ Madam Miriam continues, ‘on account of you looking so sweet and innocent. Earl here, the amuser, will throw snuff into someone’s face, to make them cough and sneeze, and then you run to their aid, patting them on the back, helping them find their hanky, and helping yourself to their wallet. You bring that wallet right back here to dear Uncle Earl and Aunty Miriam. Then we might get you a lovely roast dinner – can’t say fairer than that, now, can we? Unless you’d prefer to dine with the fishes?’ she leers.
As the following week passes, and Miriam and Earl train you in how to be a thief – to slip your fingers into coat pockets, lift the contents swiftly, and conceal your pickings – you go over your options again and again in your mind. When your training is finished, you will be set loose on the streets of London as Earl’s apprentice.
It would be a tough, dangerous life, but part of you quite likes the idea of evening the score a little: the poor taking something back from the rich. And if you stick with Miriam and Earl, you might learn a thing or two – and avoid them tossing you in the River Thames as a bonus.
Or you could do a runner. You’re fast on your feet, and if you disappeared down a crowded street there’d be a good chance that bony, hunched Earl couldn’t keep up with you. From there, you could find yourself an honest job and a place to stay – although you could also find yourself back in the poorhouse.
As the week draws to a close, Miriam announces that she’s satisfied with your training, and that tomorrow will be your first day of ‘work’. Now’s the time to make your decision.
If you choose to become a pickpocket for Miriam and Earl, turn to scene 10.
If you choose to run away from them once you’re in a crowded street, turn to scene 11.
To read a fact file on child pickpockets click here, then return to this page to make your choice.
You leave your ma with tears in your eyes and a full cup of water by her
