Off To See The Wild West Show Part 1, Chapter 2 (2/4) By Frank Beill 1886: Hull, Yorkshire

(1/4), (2/4), (3/4), (4/4). 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.

Would he ask me to count backwards from one hundred? Mam could do that. She did it one day while she stirred a big pan of stew on the kitchen fire. A big smile of satisfaction crossed her face when she finished her recitation. I remembered this and another tear welled up inside me. I gave a sniff and held it back. 'Do you know your times tables, boy?'

'Yes, sir,' I lied. I was safe up to my six times table but anything after would be only guesswork. 'Recite the five times table.' He was sitting behind his desk now. I stood to attention but my shoes were still pinching my feet. I began the chant, which I learned in unison with fifty other boys in my class at Runcorn Street. 'One times five is five, two times five is ten ...' and on and on until I reached twelve times five. 'Enough, child.' The Master leant back in his seat. 'Let's try you now with a bigger number.' My heart sank and my eyes fell to the floor. I begged the boards to open up and swallow me, aching feet first. There was a knock at the door and the Master's attention was drawn away from me. 'Come in,' he shouted. The door opened and Mrs Grainger entered with hands and forearms now a glowing pink colour without a sign of flour. I prayed she was going to lead me away to more food. 'Beggin' your pardon, sir.' She looked across the room in my direction and smiled. I was standing as erect as a guardsman. 'Mr Silver is here to measure up the new boy.' 'Ah, good.' He nodded to her before turning back to me. 'We shall continue with this another time, boy. Go with Mrs Grainger and get your uniform sorted out.' He nodded again and turned his attention away from me and onto a pile of ledgers on the desk.

My rescuing angel crooked a forefinger to indicate that I should follow her, but I needed no beckoning and marched behind her like a grenadier. My squashed feet didn't mind stepping out the room, into the hall and up the stairs to where the dormitories lived.

Never before did I climb a flight of stairs so wide or as high as these. How different these stone steps were from the narrow wooden ones in the two up, two down terraced house I used to call home. The house I would never see again. At the top of the stairs Mrs G turned and gave me a motherly smile. It was the first time I could remember receiving such a look since Mam died. 'The sooner we get you in some proper clothes the better, you little mite.' She took a firm hold of my hand. Her hands were rough from years of hard work but her touch was gentle. I didn't resist her leading me along the corridor; it was far too long to be called a landing. I may not have felt happy but with her I felt safe. We went through yet another large door. Were we going outside again? I didn't know doors could be as big as this inside a building. We entered a room bigger than any house I had ever seen. In a circle around the room were twenty or more stools while along the walls were benches on which sat piles of clothes. Were the dormitories hiding in among the clothes? 'This is called the Sewin' Room.' Mrs G waved a hand around the room. 'It's where the girls learn to use a needle and thread.'

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