The Urchin's Song Read Online Free PDF Page B

outside.’
    ‘So how come this bit warm-up was all night, eh? An’ where did this lot come from? Or are you after tellin’ me it was Vera who gave her the night’s takin’s out of the goodness of her heart?’
    ‘Bart--’
    ‘Not a word, not a word from you, mind. I’ll get round to you later.’ Bart swung to face his wife for a moment, his expression murderous, and Shirley sank back into the quilt, her hand plucking at her scrawny throat.
    ‘You touch her or me, or any of us, and I’m out of here, I mean it. There’s plenty’d take me in and you know it. I’ve had offers from them touts who’re on the lookout for talent to play the halls. I’d do just fine.’ Josie’s voice was low and quivering with hate, and the fact that she was speaking the absolute truth lent a weight to her words that was undeniable. It wasn’t the voice or manner of a twelve-year-old child, but there were many in Sunderland’s East End who knew that age was relative. Childhood was short in Long Bank.
    Bart was dumbfounded but he recovered almost immediately, and as the meaty hands went to the belt of his trousers, Josie knew a moment of searing panic before she warned herself not to lose control. ‘If you want me money then think on,’ she said in a voice that was not shrill and high as might have been expected, but almost guttural. ‘You do all right now but if I go you’d soon feel the pinch.’
    ‘You wouldn’t leave her.’ He gestured with his thumb over his shoulder at his wife without taking his eyes off Josie’s white face. ‘Soft as clarts, the pair o’ you.’
    Josie stiffened, her spirit rising up against the arrogant self-assurance that he had them all where he wanted them. ‘You would be surprised at what I am capable of, Father.’
    Quite unconsciously she had spoken in what she termed her ‘night’ voice, a voice she had purposely cultivated to enable her to deal with any difficult or over-familiar individuals in the pubs. The words of the songs she needed for her nocturnal activities came easy to her - she only had to hear something once and it was locked in her memory - but the way they were pronounced, the right way of speaking so that the song wasn’t distorted by her broad northern accent, had taken some time to learn. However, once she had mastered the knack for her singing, she’d found that if she used what Vera called her ‘iron knickers’ voice, adopting the confident, cool manner which seemed naturally to accompany it, even the worst drunk or ruffian was put in his place. ‘Twelve goin’ on thirty’ was another of Vera’s maxims, but always said with an approving wink or nod. Josie didn’t tell Vera she didn’t feel thirty inside, that half the time she was scared out of her wits when she pretended to be this other person, this other Josie Burns. And that had never been so true as right at this minute.
    Bart stared into the defiant, uplifted face of his daughter, and they could all hear his strong discoloured teeth grinding over each other. That she had surprised him for the second time in as many minutes was clear, but none of them were sure what he would do next. Bart himself wasn’t sure. What he would like to do was to flay her alive, and if any of the others, including that useless bit of scum behind him - here he turned and glared at his wife for a second - had said half as much, he’d have marked them for life. But Josie was different.
    He couldn’t bring himself to admit that he was being held over a barrel by a mere lass; rather that this one had never responded to a leathering like the others. ‘I’ll do what I want in me own house, an’ don’t you forget it.’ But his hands had moved from his belt. ‘An’ you - you’re still sayin’ you got that afore you went to Vera’s?’ He was speaking to Gertie, and when the little girl nodded and said, ‘Aye, aye I did, Da. Honest,’ he let the pause stretch and grow as Gertie, sensing the time was right, went down on