A Mother's Choice

fine, he thought, but really he wanted to go back to the busy Market Place and watch the local folk; the way they behaved and talked. He couldn’t understand all of what they were saying. They spoke quite differently from people in the south, especially those from London or Brighton. Those were the places he knew best, even though – he mentally counted where else he had been – he also knew Oxford, where they had stayed for a couple of seasons, and Manchester, where his mother had been booked for a season but left after a week, for it wasn’t a theatre at all but a tavern where customers chatted and drank whilst she sang … and then there was Glasgow. He had overheard her telling Arthur Crawshaw, when they returned to the south, that she would never in her life go to Scotland again, for the patrons were bawdy, rude and very suggestive.

What the patrons had suggested he never did find out, as his mother hadn’t said and Arthur Crawshaw had just shaken his head and tutted and said that it wasn’t fitting for a lady to visit such places. Now he wished that he had taken more notice, but then, he reminded himself, he had only been about six or seven years old at the time.

‘Would you like to go inside the church?’ his mother was asking.

‘No thank you,’ he answered. ‘Can we go back to the market and watch what’s happening?’

The town was getting busier and bartering was taking place; they saw some of the young lads who had been taken on strutting about, safe in the knowledge that they had a year’s work ahead of them with bed and board provided, and a shilling in their pockets now to spend on whatever they wished for. Most were heading towards one of the inns to dispose of it.

‘I’m getting hungry again,’ Jack said as an aroma of food from one of the market stalls wafted their way, and he saw a look of anxiety cross his mother’s face. ‘Well,’ he hedged. ‘A bit peckish.’

‘We haven’t much money,’ she said. ‘I’ll be honest with you. But we could afford a slice of bread and beef, how would that be?’

He nodded. ‘That would be all right. If you’re sure?’

‘Yes,’ she said, sounding positive. ‘We’ll go into the Sun Inn. It always had a good reputation and a warm fire if I remember right.’

The Sun Inn was a long narrow red-brick double-fronted building with bow windows and an arched entrance big enough for a coach and horses to drive through. Before they went inside, Jack noticed that at the other side of the entrance were stables and horse boxes. It was a bigger place than he had expected and he went off to explore some of the rooms whilst his mother ordered a portion of bread and beef from the bar, which had a large kitchen behind it. There were a lot of customers in there already, and there was a strong smell of tobacco. In another room was a glowing fire and big tables suitable for large families or groups of friends; just by the door was a small table with two chairs and he sat down on one of the seats and put his cap and scarf on the other to claim it. It was a perfect place to watch from, he decided as he settled himself comfortably.

‘There you are,’ his mother said over his shoulder. ‘Why have you come in here?’ She put down a tray holding a plate of beef, bread and a dollop of mustard, and moved his cap and scarf to sit down next to him.

‘Cos there are people,’ he said, observing those at the long table nearest the fire. A plump and comely woman who was either the mother or the grandmother of several children was divesting herself of numerous woollen scarves, though keeping on her bonnet which covered thick reddish hair; a younger woman with sharp features was chastising a slight, brown-haired girl; an older man with a short grey-streaked beard was looking towards a red-haired man who was ordering food and drink from a serving maid. Around them the children milled about and argued over who was sitting where and next to whom. At the table next to them were more people; both groups obviously all knew one another and even looked alike.

Jack turned to his mother to say something but her eyes were fixed on the man who was ordering food. She had shrunk back into the shadow of the wall as if she didn’t want to be seen.

‘Mother,’ he whispered.

‘What?’ She gave him a quick glance and then looked again in the direction of the family. She pushed the plate towards him and got up. ‘I’m going to the privy,’ she mumbled. ‘Eat up. Won’t be long.’

He put some of the beef between two slices of bread and took a bite. The little brown-haired girl who had been scolded had wandered off and now came towards him. ‘Hello,’ she said shyly. ‘Who are you? I don’t know you. I thought I knew all of ’bairns round here.’

‘Erm, no, we’ve just arrived.’ He swallowed a large piece of beef and gave a choking cough. ‘Come for the hiring fair, you know.’

She gazed at him, her lips apart. ‘Aren’t you too young? How old are you? I’m ten.’

‘I’m ten as well,’ he said. ‘When’s your birthday? Mine was last week.’

‘Mine was in October,’ she pronounced gleefully, ‘so I’m older ’n you.’

‘You don’t look older,’ he said defiantly. ‘You’re only a little girl.’

‘I know,’ she answered. ‘Are you on your own? Do you go to school here?’ and before he could reply, she added, ‘We’ve got ’day off school cos it’s Hiring Day.’ She giggled. ‘None of ’bairns would turn up anyway, so we all get ’day off. You can come to our table if you like. We’re having meat pie. There’ll be plenty. Da allus orders too much, and we