Off To See The Wild West Show Part 2 Chapter 3 (2/6) By Frank Beill

(1/6), (2/6), (3/6), (4/6), (5/6), (6/6). Part 1 Chapter 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20. Part 2 Prologue, Chapter 1, 2, 3, 4.

'You're not from round here.' Her tone was accusational. Why did everyone in Hull seem compelled to state this obvious fact? Were strangers such a rarity? 'Used to be. Long time ago.' My reply was almost mechanical. 'Sammy?' The weak voice was familiar. 'Is it you, Sammy?' The cowl slipped back slightly revealing a few strands of hair. Even in the darkness I could see they were red. A movement in the folds of her skirt distracted me. Two dark eyes were staring up at me again.

'Sal. Is it you?' I looked up. Before the woman could answer the child tugged at the long skirt and began to mewl. 'Give over, bai'n!'

She bent to lift the child. The shawl slipped back further and fell onto her shoulders. Those long red tresses flowed onto her shoulders just as they did that first time outside the orphanage kitchen when she pulled off her cloth cap. Nearly twenty years fell away too. The child was in her arms and blue eyes looked right into me. 'It's your Uncle Sammy come to see us.' 'How you doing, Sal?' It was obvious she was not doing well. Her clothes were old and worn and she looked exhausted. This was not what I expected, not what I'd hoped to see.

'Not as well as you, Sammy. Not by the looks of you.' The words seemed to choke in her throat. She swayed. My hand went to her shoulder to steady her. I feared she'd collapse and drop the child.

I wanted to throw my arms around her and hug her like I used to hug Laughing Waters. Seeing her again aroused unanticipated feelings in me but she looked so frail I was afraid of hurting her. My sudden movement might have frightened the child who was hanging precariously to her mother's neck. 'You look as though you could do to be sitting down, Sal.' 'Reckon I could.' Her weary body leant into the strength of my arm. 'D'you want a cup of tea?' 'Not had a decent cup of tea in nearly twenty years.'

She turned and led me into the dark passageway, which was burrowed beneath the first floor level of the houses. About five yards down the passage was a door to the walled yard behind number forty-two. There was a water tap and sink in the yard corner while at the far end were two outhouse doors; one hiding the family's own privy and the other, a coalhouse. These facilities were much better than I remembered from my pre-orphanage days but still it wasn't my idea of gracious living.

Continued... Next Page (3/6)

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