So tempted to invite him in again, but unwilling to put Zachariah or herself through the emotion of another goodbye, or what she might say to Johnson when… whenever he returned, “Where is that stupid, drunken man?” the lady said aloud from her observation point behind the drapes of the second floor bedroom window where she’d been watching Zachariah as he’d waited for Johnson, first sitting patiently on the front steps, then impatiently pacing to the corner and back.
****
A carriage turned the corner onto Broad Street.
The passengers, a man and woman dressed in garishly
expensive clothing, were sitting huddled closely together. The man, his face under the woman’s chin, was nibbling on her neck. His left hand, on her chest, was fondling the weight of an overly stuffed bodice, while in his right hand he held an all but empty flask of brandy.
Giggling, “Aye, Elmo, that tickles.” The woman belched into the man’s hairy ear. “Stop now, ya bad boy.” Looking past his head, out of the window, “Eiii! Driver!” Disentangling one of her arms, banging on the carriage roof, “Stop ‘ere!”
The Climbing Boy:11; December 24, 1843; London, England
Turning on the spring seat, looking at the frantic woman through the carriage’s small, oval shaped window, “Whoa!” the driver jerked sharply on the reins. “Whoa!”
In an effort to comply with the driver’s sudden command, the two well-trained horses pulled to the side of the cobblestone road even as they struggled against the forward momentum.
“Stop, driver! Stop!”
Pulling back on the breaking lever, sparks flew from under all four iron-shod wheels and eight iron-hoofed legs. Within the carriage, the suddenly halted forward momentum caused the man and woman to slide off the seat, onto the floor into a tanglement of arms, legs and hooped skirts.
“What the bloody ‘ell!” the man shouted. “Else, why the ‘ell’d ya do that?”
On the start of a return trip to the corner, Zachariah had hardly noticed the carriage as it rounded the corner. Now, stopping dead in his tracks, he watched as the carriage careened towards him, grated against the gutter and—its wheels spewing a shower of sparks on the cobblestone street—slid to an abrupt halt fifteen feet in front of him, and…
Else pulled herself from beneath the man atop her and, with her hat askew, shoving the door open, vaulted out of the carriage onto the street.
…The carriage door sprung open as a disheveled woman wearing a vividly colored, wide hooped, silken dress and a cockeyed, albeit matching, hat hurdled herself onto the street and barreled towards him, and…
His mouth dropping open, “Lordy!” he said. “What’d I do?” as, panicking, glancing over his shoulder he hoped that, maybe, it wasn’t him but someone behind him she was after… but it wasn’t!
Bounding into him, almost knocking the boy off his feet, grabbing him, Zachariah winced as the woman, “Elmo!” shouted into his ear, “Elmo! I got me one!” The boy tried to break from her grasp, but, hanging onto him, “I got me one!”
“Yeah, Else, I sees.” Stepping from the carriage, onto the street, tottering, Elmo saw his friend hanging onto a boy. “What the bloody ‘ell’s gotten into ya? What the ‘ell ya shoutin’ ‘bout? Who the ‘ell’s this?”
“A sweep, ya bloody id’jut!” Holding Zachariah at arm’s length, showing him, “Can’t ya see?” And, as though the boy were a toy doll, lifting him off his feet, Elsa turned him towards Elmo. “I tol’j’ya I be wantin’ to be touchin’ a sweep afore the New Year! Ya know’s, Elmo, for good luck an’ such.”
Almost taking the wind from him, hugging him, she squeezed the boy against her chest.
“Else!” Trying, unsuccessfully, to separate the two by pulling their bodies apart, Elmo looked at the boy, then his hand. “Leave the lad be for Christ’s sake!” he said as, taking a handkerchief from his pocket, Elmo wiped soot from both hands. “Else, you’ll be stranglin’ the lad! An’ I ‘ears it ain’t no good luck a’tall to be killin’ a sweep.”
Standing behind her, much to Zachariah’s relief, Elmo was able to pry Else’s fingers from around his back.
“Aye, ain’t ‘e a pretty one I found Elmo? Just look’a them eyes!” Twisting out of Elmo’s hands, hugging Zachariah again, she kissed him full on the mouth.
Thinking she smelled like Johnson after he’d beendrinking, though he’d never been quite this close to Johnson after he’d been drinking, unable to hold back, “Yaght!”
Shrugging his shoulders, going back to the carriage, standing on the rung, “Else,” Elmo said, “best get your arse back ‘ere. We ain’t got all day, ya know!”
“Be with ya in a flash, Elmo. ‘old ya water!” Reaching into the bag hanging from the crook of her arm, rummaging a moment, “‘ere ya be, lad,” pressing a coin into his hand. “I just know’s ya be bringing’ me some bit’a good luck. Good Christmas to ya, boy!”
“Uh… thank ya, Mum.” Zachariah replied. “Ya be ‘avin’ a good Christmas, too.”
Winking at him, her dangling hat held onto one fallen curl by a hatpin, Else rushed back to the carriage.
“Aye, Driver!” Elmo pounded on the roof.
“Giddyap!” With a slapping of the reins, the carriage pulled away from the curb.
“Well, Else, ain’t ya the sight!”
“Me, Elmo? Sure, me ‘at’s a bit off, an’ me ‘air’s a bit messed, but I’ll ‘ave ‘er fixed in a jiffy.” Looking in the mirror affixed to the front partition, “Yeek!” Elsa shrieked because her forehead, nose, mouth, and chin, and her scarf, dress, and jacket were coated with soot. “Lord’a’mighty!” Taking a handkerchief from her bag, moistening a corner with the tip of her tongue, she absolutely ineffectively dabbed at her nose.
“Else, I don’t think that’s gonna to be a ‘elp to ya. Yeah, Else, this sure be ya lucky day!”
Watching the carriage until it was out of sight, Zachariah then looked at the coin that had been forced into his hand: the same as the three coins given to him by the lady in the house for the sweep.
Wanting to be sure this coin went into the proper pocket, putting his hand under the long-coat, feeling the bulk of the large silver coin, hearing the “clink” of the coins, he dropped it into his right side pocket. A thought occurring to him, stretching his index finger into the breast pocket of the coat, relieved it hadn’t been crushed in Else’s grip, scratching its head, “Mousy, ya sure brought me a bit’a luck today,” he said out loud, then again looked about to be sure that no one had heard him.
****
“Zachariah! Aye, Zachariah!” Having rounded the corner, weaving drunkenly towards him, “Com’on boy!” Looking at him sternly, slapping him on the back of his head as though the boy were the reason for his tardiness, “We ain’t got all day, ya know!” Johnson said. “We’s got one more job to do, ya know! Ol’ ‘obbins, ya know!” Coughing, spitting bloody phlegm onto the street, holding his hand forward, “Ya gots me money?” Johnson demanded.
Reaching into his left pocket, “The lady, she paid a bit more’n necessary,” the boy said as he fished within its depth a moment, found, removed, and dropped the three coins into Johnson’s waiting hand.
Glancing at the coins, somehow taking the overpayment as his due, Johnson dropped the three coins into his trouser pocket.
Turning, going back to the steps, Zachariah hoisted the unequal bulk of the equipment around his shoulders and into his arms.
From the window above, watching until the man and boy were out of sight, sighing, “May the Lord Jesus be with you, my boy.” The lady pressed her palms together, “May the good Lord be with you!”
The drapes in the window of the second floor bedroom fell into place.
Late Noon:
The afternoon show was nearing completion in a music hall not too far away where the audience awaited the appearance of the theater’s main attraction:
“Garibaldi The Great: Master Magician”
The muffled sounds of the stagehands moving the trapeze, high wire, and parallel bars of the preceding act came from behind the closed curtains, but could only be heard by those sitting in the first few rows.
The happy pre-Christmas crowd of people in the audience sat back, relaxed, and waited.
Cigars were lit and flasks of brandy or gin were passed between friends.
“‘ow dare ya say such a thing to me? I’s a lady, I is!”
A woman in the sixth row stood, and to the laughter and approval of the people in the neighboring seats, slapped the man sitting next to her.
Stalking through the aisle, the woman stood a moment looking for another seat, spotted one and made for it.
A drum roll.
Receding dimly into the theater’s dome, chandeliers pulled upward on greased pulleys and the theater was cast into a flimsy, nervous darkness.
A cough.
“Shhhh!”
The rustle of clothing.
“Shhhh!”
The sounds of the audience subsided slowly.
The squeaking of the parting of the curtains.
Quiet…
The transparent darkness…
Quiet.
Suddenly, amidst motes of dust, swirls, and spirals of cigar smoke that formed floating phantoms in its narrowing, gelatinous yellow beam, a gas-lit reflecting spotlight shone fully upon the bare stage for the time of three heartbeats… then the light abruptly disappeared leaving only the ghostly, flickering gaslight from the chandeliers above.
“LADIES AND GENTLEMEN!”
To be continued
