Out Now......

The Long Walk Home

 

Young Mikey Quinn, scavenging on the streets of Hull, is thrown into prison for stealing a rabbit from the butcher. His chief accuser, a well-to-do lawyer, has a daughter, Eleanor, whom he badly mistreats. When Mikey is released he finds that his mother has died and his sister and brothers taken into the workhouse - determined to find a better life for his family, he walks all the way to London to seek his fortune.

There he finds that the grim realities of city life are even worse than they were in Hull, and comes under the evil patronage of the sinister Tully, first encountered when he was in prison. But he also meets Eleanor again, and between them they face the dangers of London and gradually make a new life for themselves. Together they have to face journeying back to Hull - the long walk home.

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Chapter One

He ran; swift as the estuary tide, spry as the breeze which rocked the barges and lashed the cracking canvas sails; full gallop as the gypsy horse escaped from its harness and bidding for glorious freedom.
One rabbit slipped from his pocket to be caught up by other grasping hands, but its mate was clutched ever tighter, the blood matted fur sticky on his fingers.
Voices shouted; the butcher waving his arms. ‘Stop him! Stop thief!’ A crony, ‘Go on, Mikey,’ giving away his name.
A woman stopped to watch, her fingers clutched to her mouth, a tenseness in her stance urging him on. A man who took a tentative step towards him and then thought better of it.
But still he was caught. The tall gentleman in black coat and top hat put out his arms and Mikey ran into them. From beneath the man’s armpit which smelt faintly of sweat and spice, he looked at the young girl. If it hadn’t been for her he would have swerved and got away but she was standing so close to the man, that without checking his headlong flight he would have knocked her over.
They stared at each other, she from sea blue eyes, and he from dark brown. Mikey gave a sudden grin as he thought of how he might look from her standpoint with only his face showing beneath the man’s armpit; but she tossed her fair head in a haughty gesture, turned up her nose and darted out the tip of her pink tongue.
A constable came rushing up, his baton swinging, followed by the butcher brandishing a cleaver. ‘What’s all this then?’ the officer asked no one in particular but expecting an answer from someone.
Mikey wriggled. ‘I’m choking,’ he gasped. ‘Let me out.’
‘I’d say you will choke, my lad.’ The gentleman eased his grasp on Mikey’s neck. ‘One day you’ll swing from a rope if you don’t mend your ways.’
Mikey saw the girl grow pale and put her hand over her mouth. He shook his head to reassure her. No, he wouldn’t.
‘Pinched two rabbits from outside my shop, Mr Kendall,’ the butcher complained. ‘How am I expected to make a living when these young ruffians are forever stealing?’
‘Not me mister.’ Mikey shook himself like a young dog when the gentleman released him into the constable’s firm grip. ‘I’ve never pinched owt from you afore.’
‘Haven’t been caught more like,’ the butcher retaliated. ‘I’ve seen you about looking for mischief.’
‘Well ‘evidence is here.’ The constable pointed to the rabbit. ‘I’ll have to confiscate it,’ he told the butcher. ‘It’s proof of theft.’
The butcher put his hands on his hips, the cleaver glinting dangerously. ‘That’ll be ‘last I’ll see of it then. Some copper’ll have a nice rabbit pie. I might as well give it to ‘lad!’
The gentleman broke in. ‘He has to be taught a lesson.’ He wagged a finger at Mikey. ‘He must learn that he can’t get away with such misdemeanours. Society would break down if we allowed it.’
The girl pressed her lips together and from wide blue eyes stared anxiously at Mikey, but said nothing.
The butcher turned away. ‘Tek it then and him as well.’ He glared at Mikey. ‘And if I should see you within a mile o’ my shop.’ He waved the cleaver. ‘You’ll be sorry.’
‘I am sorry!’ Mikey said hastily. ‘It’s just that my ma ---.
‘Come on!’ The constable reached into his pocket and brought out a pair of handcuffs. ‘No excuses. We’ve heard ‘em all before. Your ma’s dying, your da’s done a runner and you’ve nowt to eat in ‘house!’
I don’t think she’s dying; at least I hope not. But she is poorly. Mikey glanced over his shoulder at the girl as he was led away. She too turned her head as the man put his hand on her shoulder and ushered her across the road. She looked frightened, he thought, and winked at her to re assure her.
His da! No, he hadn’t done a runner. He’d gone to sea and the ship never came back. Lost somewhere in the fishing grounds in search of cod. That had been nearly four years ago when Mikey was ten and his mother had struggled ever since to work and feed her family. Mikey was the eldest of four children, Ben and Tom and his sister, Rose. He was old enough to work if only he could get a job. But not at sea. His mother refused to let him go. ‘I’ve lost one man,’ she’d told Mikey. ‘I’m not going to lose another.’
‘You’ll spend ‘night here,’ the charge clerk sitting on a tall stool in the Blanket Row police station told him. ‘Then in ‘morning you’ll be up before ‘Bench.’