The Sweeping Saga Collection: Poppy’s Dilemma, The Dressmaker’s Daughter, The Factory Girl. Nancy Carson

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СКАЧАТЬ bisn’t anything, other than a great heap o’ shit. As far as I’m concerned thy lottery’s a sham, and I’ll kill thee.’ Buttercup was about to land a second punch when Jericho pulled him away.

      ‘He’s mine, Buttercup.’

      ‘Nay, lad. I’ve been itching to do this vile bastard some damage. Take your turn.’

      ‘But he took six quid off me. Six quid!’

      Glasses, bottles and tankards began flying. Beer was swilling over tables, spilling onto the sawdust-sprinkled floor. Men struggled one with another as the fighting instantly spread. Tweedle Beak, free of Buttercup’s unwanted attention for a second, saw his chance to escape. He turned round to pick up his hat, which contained further evidence of bias in the number of tickets bearing the name of Dandy Punch.

      The hat had gone.

      So had Dandy Punch, though nobody made the connection, for Dandy was not thought likely to get mixed up in any fighting.

      ‘What are you looking for, Tweedle?’ Jericho screamed at Tweedle. ‘The hat with the tickets in? Just when I want to see if my tickets was ever put in there.’

      ‘They was in there,’ Tweedle tried to reassure him.

      ‘I’ve only got your word, and that don’t count for much any more. You’re a sly, sneaky bastard. Now, if you can’t show me me tickets, I want me money back.’

      ‘That you won’t have, Jericho.’

      ‘Then outside.’

      ‘Aye, I’ll go outside with yer, you cocky young bastard.’ Tweedle had got nothing more to lose. He had lost his credibility and what friends he’d had. He might regain some respect if he could beat Jericho in a fistfight. If he couldn’t, he might win some sympathy as the loser.

      The room full of angry men became quiet as the dispute between Jericho and Tweedle Beak flared. Those closest stood back to let the two men pass, then they all finished what beer still remained in their tankards and followed them outside. At once, Selina and her father set about clearing up the debris.

      Buttercup felt robbed that he was not about to get a crack at breaking Tweedle’s jaw, but he was sufficiently content to let the swine suffer at the hands of Jericho, since there was no doubting the outcome of that fight. A trickle of blood appeared from Tweedle’s mouth as they fought. Buttercup turned his back on the struggle. There was a more important task in hand.

      As Buttercup reached the encampment, the women were standing in the centre, gossiping and laughing with expectation. When they saw him strutting towards them looking agitated they fell silent.

      ‘Who’s the lucky chap then?’ Ma Catchpole enquired. ‘We’n got the broomstick ready and Poppy’s all dressed up, a-waiting.’

      ‘Good,’ he said and walked past them.

      The women looked from one to the other with puzzled expressions.

      ‘Is it you, Buttercup?’ one asked. ‘Shall you be jumping the broomstick wi’ young Poppy?’

      ‘Not me,’ he called, and went inside Rose Cottage, slamming the door behind him.

      Sheba, Poppy, and the other children were all waiting apprehensively for the result of the draw. Poppy was in her best red flannel frock and the boots that Robert Crawford had bought her. She was pale and trembling as she looked anxiously at Buttercup.

      ‘What happened?’ Sheba asked.

      ‘I’ll tell thee in a minute. I want a crowbar.’

      Buttercup entered the navvies’ sleeping quarters and came out bearing one. At once he strode over to the line of lockers.

      ‘Which is Tweedle’s?’

      ‘This one.’ Sheba pointed it out.

      ‘He tried to fix it so as he won,’ Buttercup informed them as he shoved the end of the crowbar between the door and its stout frame. ‘That means as he was planning to leave thee, Sheba.’

      ‘Does he know as it ain’t his child I’m a-carrying then?’ She showed little emotion.

      ‘He does now. But I reckon it meks no odds to him either way. The fact as thee bist a-carrying, whether or no ’tis his, meks no odds to him. He’s a bad un, Sheba. Yo’m well rid of the bastard.’

      ‘Does that mean as I ain’t got to jump the broomstick with anybody?’ Poppy asked.

      ‘When the lottery got drawn proper, Dog Meat’s name came out o’ the hat.’

      ‘Dog Meat!’ Poppy groaned. ‘I can’t stand him. Oh, tell me this is a vile nightmare I’m having.’

      ‘It’s a vile nightmare,’ Sheba agreed.

      ‘Fret thee not,’ Buttercup declared earnestly. ‘It was a fiddle from start to finish. Nobody’s having thee, Poppy. Not Dog Meat, nor Jericho, nor Dandy Punch. Least of all Tweedle bloody Beak. There’ll be nothing left of him any road once Jericho’s finished with him.’

      ‘Honest, Buttercup? You mean I’m free to do as I please?’

      ‘I’d never let anybody take thee as thou didn’t want, wench,’ he said resolutely. ‘Tweedle Beak had no right to do as he did. He wasn’t thy father. He was nothin’ to do with thee.’

      ‘But what about Dog Meat? He’ll come and claim me before long.’

      ‘Don’t worry about Dog Meat. I’ll sort him out.’ Buttercup had managed to break the lock and the door swung open. He reached inside and took the leather pouch that he knew contained most of the money Tweedle Beak had collected. He tossed it to Poppy. ‘Here … The money’s thine, Poppy.’

      ‘But that Tweedle Beak,’ Sheba said, the news impacting on her. ‘He was intending to run off with me own daughter and spared not a thought for me, or even the child I’m carrying.’

      ‘Aye, and he’s took money off a good many besides, knowing full well as he was gunna fix it for himself to win. But he was never clever enough to see it through proper. Well, he’ll be leaving tonight any road, if he can still stand. But not with his money.’ He turned to Poppy. ‘Take the money, my flower. Tomorrow, get theeself away from this camp and navvydom. There’s enough there to see thee through many a month. Even a twelvemonth. Tek theeself off and wait for that young engineer thou’st got thy eye on.’

      Poppy looked enquiringly at Sheba, then at Buttercup. ‘If Tweedle Beak intended to cheat everybody, don’t you think we should give the money back to the men who’ve been cheated?’

      Buttercup took his clay pipe out of the top pocket of his waistcoat and put it in his mouth. ‘If we could be sure who’s paid what,’ he said, taking a stick of twist tobacco from his pocket and cutting a piece off it. ‘Somebody else must’ve been in on it besides, ’cause the hat suddenly went missing with all the damned tickets. And if we ask who paid money, every bugger will say he paid for two tickets when he only bought one. Nay, wench, have the money thyself and let it do thee some good. Besides …’ He tapped the side of his nose. ‘Everybody’ll think СКАЧАТЬ