Off To See The Wild West Show Part 1, Chapter 1 (3/4) 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.

I dawdled to take in the amazing sights. George gave me another sharp tug but he didn't need to pull too hard. The gorgeous aroma of fresh baked bread was wafting down the yard and he was leading me in its direction. Heads were turning to look at me, eyes staring. I was as much a novelty to them as everything was to me.

At the end of the yard was another short flight of stone steps to yet another solid looking door. Next to the door was a half-open sash window. This was the source of the enticement, which was more delicious than the aroma whenever Grandmother baked bread. There was also the smell of meat simmering in a pot and the loud clattering of metal pans being shuffled around. Above it all were the high-pitched sounds of women and girls chattering. George mounted the steps and at last he let go of my hand. He knocked on the door and waited. When the door opened a large woman with beetroot cheeks appeared. George got a stern look before she turned her head to regard my ragged countenance. 'The Master sent us,' George stammered apologetically. 'Is this the new boy?' Before he could answer, she turned her gaze back on me again. 'And what's your name, young man?' 'Sammy,' I mumbled with my eyes cast down towards my aching feet. 'Speak up! Can't abide mumblers.' 'Sammy.' George came to my assistance. 'Let the bai'n speak for himself, George Smith!'

I took a closer look at her, although most of her large frame was hidden by a dark dress stretching all the way down to her ankles. A spotless starched apron went down from her neck to where I guessed her knees must have been. Hands white with flour were on the ends of bare pink forearms that were like hams while flecks of white were dotted on her cheeks too. Though her voice was fierce, there was kindness in her eyes or was it my later experience of her clouding my memory? 'Sammy!' I found my voice. 'Sammy Smyle.' I didn't want George, my new friend: my only friend here to get into trouble because he was trying to help me.

'That's better.' The fierce expression broke into a smile; the first smile seen since I entered the building. 'And I suppose the Master has sent him to get some't to eat.' She turned to George again. 'An' a mug of tea,' he added. 'We'll see what we can do.' She nodded and looked back at me. 'Do you like beef drippin', child? Thick with brown jelly on a fresh white crust?' The sight of my tongue licking my lips must have been all the answer she needed and she disappeared back behind a closed door. 'That's Mrs Grainger. Mrs G everyone calls her,' George confided. 'Not a bad sort. Bark's worse 'an her bite. As long as you stay on the right side of her. Won't tolerate no nonsense, though. Thick dripping if you're a good lad, thick ear if you're not!' George gave a wink and he smiled for the first time, exposing gaps where milk teeth were making way for their replacements. This was the first time I looked at his face, having seen only the back of his head as he pulled me along. His pale face was covered with freckles while above it was a shock of short cropped hair which still managed to stick out at every angle possible.

Continued Next Page

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