but they could’ve jettisoned that when they saw the arresting officers arrive.’
‘No evidence, eh?’ Billygoat called, loud enough for the throng to hear. ‘No evidence!’ He turned back to the policeman. ‘It strikes me as you should let ’em go, if you got no evidence.’
‘That ain’t up to me,’ the policeman said. ‘There’s nothing I can do. They’ll appear afore the magistrate tomorrow and he’ll decide what should happen to ’em. I’m just doing me duty.’
Billygoat turned to his men. ‘You heard what the constable said,’ he shouted. ‘He’s got no evidence, but there’s nothing he can do about it. There’s nothing he can do for us or our mates inside. He’s just doing his duty. Well, men … we have a duty as well …’
A roar of assent went up and the men surged forward in a mass. The policemen, realising that it was impossible to stand in the way of the mob and live, stood aside while the navvies poured into the police station. Inside, huge muscle-bound men wrenched open doors, pulling some off hinges, until one group came across the cells. Another policeman was on duty there. One of the mob asked him to unlock the padlock and set the prisoners free or be killed. Bravely, he refused. Acknowledging his courage and application to duty, Billygoat gave the order to leave him be. They would wrench the cell door down with physical force.
It took no more than five minutes. The two prisoners were helped out, to broad grins and triumphal cheers.
As the triumphant navvies and their women lurched back to the encampment, they dispersed into smaller groups. Poppy had gone up to her father as soon as she could get close to him and asked him if he really was innocent of the accusations levelled against him.
‘I’m innocent, my wench,’ he answered, ‘but I doubt the law will ever regard me as innocent. I had a necklace in me hand, I admit it – I was gunna buy it for you, my flower – but somebody snatched it from me and I don’t know who … Where’s your mother?’
‘She stayed with the kids.’
‘Good … I’m glad.’
‘You look worried, Dad …’
‘If I do, it’s ’cause we ain’t heard the last o’ this.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘What I say. The line will be crawling wi’ police tomorrer. They’ll never be able to let us navvies get off scot-free. They’ll never let us get away with this.’
They walked on together, silently considering the implications, and Poppy was touched that her father had been about to buy her a necklace. A few of the men were singing lewd songs as they trudged drunkenly homewards. Then, as the various clusters of navvies and women lumbered down Vicar Street towards Blowers Green, Poppy was aware of somebody else at her side and turned to see who it was.
‘What’s goin’ on, Poppy?’
‘Minnie! Where did you spring from?’
‘From that alleyway.’ She pointed over her shoulder. ‘I was with that Tom. So what’s up?’
Poppy told her, then asked what she was doing out so late.
‘That Tom,’ Minnie whispered behind her hand, rolling her eyes self-consciously. ‘He’s a bit of a buck. We was having it against the wall in that alley when we heard this commotion and saw all the navvies marching towards the town. I knew Dog Meat would be among ’em, so I thought it was a good time to leave Tom and get back in bed afore Dog Meat got back. Anyway, at that, Tom says, “Hey, I ain’t finished yet,” so we settled back to doin’ it again. It took longer than I thought …’ Minnie giggled unashamedly. ‘So if Dog Meat ever asks, I was with you on the way up to the gaol, as well as on the way back. I’ve bin with you all night. All right?’
Poppy chuckled. ‘You’re a crafty one, Min, and no two ways. Are you seein’ him again, this Tom?’
‘Who knows? I might. He’s worthy.’
Sheba, who had waited up anxiously for news of Lightning Jack, was overjoyed when he returned to Rose Cottage. She took his arm with concern and drew him to her proprietorially as he entered the hut.
‘Are you hurt, Jack?’ she asked, with sympathy in her eyes. ‘Did the police hurt you?’
‘I copped a clout across the shoulder, but I daresay it’s only bruised. Nothing to fret about.’
‘Oh, Jack, I was that worried. Thank God you’m all right.’
‘Aye, I’m all right, my wench. But I’m famished. Get me summat t’ate.’
‘There’s some bread and cheese.’
‘That’ll do.’
Two loaves of bread stood on the table in the communal living room. Sheba cut a hunk off one and handed it to Lightning with an ample lump of cheese. She poured him a glass of beer from the barrel, and treated herself to a smaller one.
While her father ate his supper, Poppy returned to the bed she shared. As she slid between the sheets, her sisters and brother roused but did not wake. Before long, her father and mother came in, carrying an oil lamp. Lightning Jack had sobered up following his experience in the gaol and was conducting a whispered conversation with Sheba. Then he blew out the flame and clambered into the adjacent bed, followed by Sheba. Poppy heard their stifled grunts and the squeaks of the iron bedstead as they performed their inevitable horizontal exercise. In the adjoining dormitory, the navvies who lodged with them clumped about as they stumbled over each other and swore profusely before they settled down. Poppy pulled the pillow over her head to shut out the various violations of her peace and tried to drift off to sleep, to the accompaniment of her own imaginings. It had been an eventful night.
Morning came. Sheba and Lightning were up and dressed by the time Poppy awoke. Lightning was tying his clothes up in a bundle and Sheba was regarding him fretfully.
‘I’ll be back as soon as it’s safe,’ Poppy heard him say.
Alarmed, she sat up in bed and called, ‘Where you goin’, Dad?’
‘I’m goin’ on tramp, my wench. The police’ll be swarmin’ round this place like flies round shit, afore you can catch your breath. If they find me they’ll arrest me again. I’m gunna mek meself scarce. In the meantime, I’ll find work on another railway. The bobbies won’t know where I’ve gone and they won’t send men everywhere just to look for me. I’ll either send for yer all or, if the job’s no good, I’ll come back when the dust has settled.’
‘Will Dover Joe go with you, Dad?’
‘He’ll leave here if he’s got any sense, I reckon. But it’ll be best if we don’t go together.’
‘Oh, Dad, I shall miss you,’ Poppy declared with a flush of tenderness for this man, who protected her from the perils and coarseness of living among so many uncultured men. ‘Come back as soon as you can.’
He
