Blood On The Cobbles

It was clear what had happened. But who had done this dreadful deed?

JOEY heard the commotion as he finished filling the bucket at the pump. Men with rough voices, shouting round the corner in the next street, nailed boots clattering on the cobbles.

Frightened, he abandoned the bucket and, crossing to the nearest wall, slipped into the shadows.

It had been late when his mother sent him out to fetch water for tomorrow’s porridge. Leaving the house, he had heard the church clock chime ten.

Now, Joey’s heart hammered as he pressed himself against the rough bricks and listened to the curses and thuds only yards away.

As long as the men stayed in that street he was safe. If they rounded the corner and found him hiding here, things could get nasty.

Ma would be wondering what had kept him so long, but when he considered making a dash for home he decided that would be too risky. Better to remain where he was.

Others had heard the disturbance. Across the road a bedroom window opened. A house door was flung open but rapidly closed again.

There came a groan, a gasp and more shouts.

“You’ve done it now, Norrie!”

“Come away!”

Joey heard heavy boots fading into the distance. A sliver of a moon drifted through a cloud and as his eyes adjusted in the darkness, he noticed the gleam of metal on the cobbles. One of the men had dropped something; a coin, perhaps?

Cautiously he stepped forward and scooped it up. It was too dark to see what sort it was, but money was scarce and even the smallest coin was precious.

All was quiet, so he picked up the bucket and staggered back home, the cold water splashing over his feet.

In the downstairs room of the small house, his mother was feeding the baby.

The solitary candle in the room lit up the picture of the Queen, Victoria, which hung on the faded wall.

“You took your time, Joey.”

“There was a fight. I kept out of the way. Where’s Father?”

“He’ll be back soon. You get up to bed.”

Joey kissed her and touched the baby’s downy head, then crept upstairs. As usual, his two younger brothers had spread themselves over the narrow bed.

He pushed them aside gently, then undressed and slid under the blankets.

As he was settling to sleep, he remembered the last shout.

“You’ve done it now, Norrie!”

His father’s name was Norrie . . .

When Joey stumbled downstairs the next morning his mother was stirring the porridge and his sister, Ellie, was helping the little boys to dress.

“When did Pa get back?” he asked as they ate their porridge.

“Late. He brought a couple of rabbits.”

The children smiled. Rabbit stew tonight! Meat didn’t come their way often.

Their mother needed more water so after breakfast Joey and Ellie collected the buckets and went outside.

There was a crowd near the pump, but no-one was filling buckets. People were staring at the corner of the street close to where Joey had hidden the previous night.

Joey saw that a policeman was blocking the way and another was walking slowly, peering intently at the ground.

He felt a thudding in his chest.

“There was a fight. Reuben Cramp’s injured,” someone whispered.

“Like to die,” an old man added.

Ellie gasped. Joey stiffened with fear.

“Found in the street this morning. Been there all night.”

“Blood all over the cobbles.”

“Poor fellow!” No-one had liked Reuben Cramp, but now he was hurt they were prepared to forgive him his sneaky ways.

A few minutes later, a tall man wearing a brown overcoat and a bowler hat arrived. He began pointing to the ground and speaking to the policemen.

“That’s the detective, Inspector Potts,” Chas Brown said.

He should know, for Chas had been in trouble with the law many times. He was a thief,

but he would never injure anyone.

Joey felt an overwhelming need to get back home. He began to work the pump.

“Ellie, pass that bucket. Ma’s waiting!”

When they reached home, Ellie told their mother the news. Joey listened. He wondered if his mother would remember what he had told her about last night’s fight, but to his relief she seemed more concerned for Reuben Cramp’s wife and children.

“How will she manage for money without his wages?”

For the rest of the morning Joey hung around the safety of the house, while his brothers squatted outside in the sunshine playing marbles.

His mother was swishing the washing round in the big tub with her posser while Ellie rinsed out the first load.

“Just look at the state of your pa’s shirt!” Ma said. “Put it to soak in the old tin bowl, Joey, and sprinkle it with salt.”

The shirt was heavily stained with blood!

As Joey picked it up, a shadow loomed in the open doorway.

“Good morning, lady. I am Inspector Potts. I’m investigating the attack on Mr Cramp. Perhaps you have heard about it?”

“Only what the bairns told me when they came back from the pump.”

“He was injured over in Norton Street. Did you notice a disturbance last night?”

“No. It was very quiet here. I was feeding the baby.”

“Your husband, perhaps? Did he hear anything?” She shook her head. “He didn’t say. He’s at work, at the mill. You could ask him when he gets home tonight.”

The inspector nodded and had turned to leave when he spotted the shirt, still in Joey’s hand.

“Those marks. Is that blood?”

Joey shot a frightened glance at his mother.

“That’s right, Inspector. My husband brought two rabbits home last night. He bought them from his cousin. They weren’t well wrapped up.”

“Bought, eh?” Inspector Potts smiled. “Well, I’m not here to catch poachers. Was your husband out late? I’ll need to speak to him – he may have seen something. And I’ll have to take the shirt for now.”

“Why? He had nothing to do with Reuben Cramp. That’s a good shirt and it needs soaking in salt while the stains are fresh!”

“Sorry, lady. It’s procedure.”

He took it from Joey, tipped his bowler and left.

Joey agonised. He knew he should have told the policeman about the fight, but he couldn’t. That last cry he had heard before the men ran away echoed through his mind.

Pa did sometimes go poaching with his cousin, and gutting a rabbit was a messy business, but was it rabbit blood on the shirt? Or something worse?

He fetched some logs in but felt restless and couldn’t settle to anything. He was glad when his mother sent him to the greengrocer’s for vegetables for the rabbit stew.

His basket was heavy with carrots and onions when he left the shop. He perched on a low wall to count his change.

Amongst it was the coin he had picked up last night. It was silver, polished so smoothly that he could hardly make out the head of some king on one side. There was a hole drilled in it, close to the rim. “What’s that, Joey?” His friend, Bertie, joined him.

He spotted the silver disc. “Hey, my uncle Matt’s got one just like that. It’s not proper money, though. He carries it around for luck.”

Joey put the coin in his pocket with the others and Bertie began to talk about the attack on Reuben Cramp, repeating what he had heard from the gossip.

“He bashed his brains out on the road; blood all over the cobbles!”

“I’ve got to go. Ma’s waiting for the vegetables.”

Joey shuddered, picked up the basket and began to walk towards home. Bertie tagged along.

Outside the house, Ellie was waiting.

“Hurry, Joey, Ma wants to get the stew on,” she said, then turned to Bertie. “Your mother’s been hollering for you, Bertie Norris, so you’d better look sharp and get home!”

At five o’clock Ma sat the children down to eat. Their father was not back from work so his share of the rabbit stew waited on the stove.

When the meal was over and the little ones were getting ready for bed, Joey and Ellie went to fetch more wood.

They returned and found several neighbours hovering outside the door. Their mother was crying.

“They’ve taken him, all because of that shirt. Your pa’s been arrested for injuring Reuben Cramp!”

“Pa wouldn’t do that,” Ellie cried.

A tumble of thoughts in Joey’s mind suddenly fell into place.

“No! He wouldn’t, it wasn’t Pa!”

He rushed to the door, knowing what he had to do. “Look after Ma, Ellie!” Shouldering his way past the folk outside, he ran across the square, into the next street and along the main road, dodging people, horses and cabs.

Reaching the police station, he rushed up to the desk.

“I have to see the Inspector!” he told the officer on duty.

“Now, lad, steady on. What’s your name?” “Joey Gray.” “What’s all this about, then, Joey?”

“They’ve got my pa but it wasn’t him who hurt Reuben Cramp!”

A door opened. Joey turned and saw Inspector Potts.

“Mister, it wasn’t my pa. I know who did it!”

“I saw you this morning. You’re Norrie Gray’s boy? You’d better come and speak to me.”

He led Joey into a small room and told him to sit down. Another policeman joined them.

“Now, you’ve something to tell me?”

Joey nodded.

“I didn’t know Reuben was hurt. He must have been lying there but I didn’t see him. If I’d known, I’d have fetched help.”

Tears ran down his face. He wiped them away. “When was this, Joey?” “Last night. I was fetching water from the pump. I heard the fight.”

“You were watching?” “No, hiding. They didn’t see me, but I heard one of them yell. I thought it was ‘Norrie’ he shouted.” “Your pa’s name?”

The boy nodded.

“But it wasn’t – I know that now. Not Norrie. It was Norris! And I found this on the cobbles after the men had run away.”

Joey pulled the silver coin out of his pocket.

“He must have lost it when he was fighting. Matt Norris. It’s his lucky coin. I think it was him who attacked Reuben.”

“That’s a serious accusation, Joey,” Inspector Potts said. “Think carefully now, because I want you to tell me everything that happened last night. Constable Gott here is going to write it all down . . .”

Matt Norris was arrested and the following day Joey’s father returned home. In the evening, the family gathered round the table to eat the second of the rabbits, which had been roasted with onions and potatoes.

“They say that Reuben Cramp will likely live,” Ma said, lifting a suet pudding off the stove.

“I wish I’d gone for help,” Joey fretted.

“It wasn’t your fault, son.” His father put an arm round his shoulder. “If you hadn’t found the coin, I’d still be in that cell!”

Joey smiled and dug his spoon into his pudding.

“I’ll fetch the water soon,” he said. “But before it gets dark!” n